Page 37 of Her Last Vow

"Then Sloan just became the biggest threat to whatever this person believes in that's ever existed." Rachel felt the shape of it solidify as she said it and just like that, she became a bit more certain. "He's not just some outsider criticizing the app from a distance, like Tanner. He's the founder. If he stands up and calls it flawed or dangerous, or wrong, that carries the sort of weight that nobody else's criticism does. To somebody who thinks of that model as gospel, Sloan denouncing it isn't just a business decision.”

“It's heresy, coming from the one person whose voice could actually kill it for good," Novak said, and she could see that he, too, was coming around to the idea. Novak sat with that for a second, taking another mouthful of food as he did. "So instead of Sloan being our guy, Sloan just made himself a target."

"Maybe." Rachel pulled the legal pad toward her and flipped to a blank page, more out of habit than having any real plan to write something down yet. "Which means I need to stop asking who wants Apogee to fail and start asking who can't survive watching it fail. Who's deep enough inside that company to see every prediction, manipulate the data if they needed to, and cares enough about being right to kill over it."

"That's a shorter list than the suspect list we started with."

"It's a shorter list than I want it to be, honestly." She started scratching out names as she spoke, more thinking aloud than actually taking notes. "Oakley's client-facing, she doesn't touch the model itself. Hartley's cleared, and even if he wasn't, he leaked data out of anger at the company, not devotion to it. That's the opposite instinct." She underlined one name twice and looked at it for a moment. It fit…but it didn’t make much sense. "Sloan built the framework originally, but if he's the one trying to kill it now, that doesn't fit either."

"Which leaves…"

Rachel didn't answer right away. She looked at the name on the page for a long moment before she said it out loud, like saying it might make it more real than she wanted it to be.

"Kline."

Novak's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "You're serious."

"I don't want to be." Rachel tapped the name with her pen. "But think about it. She's the one person who's had total access to that model from day one. She built the recalibration logic herself. I mean, she told us that in her own lab. She's the one who found Hartley's export pattern and handed it to us on a plate, which at the time felt like a win."

"And now?"

"Now I keep asking myself how convenient that was. We show up asking hard questions about her team, and less than twenty-four hours later she calls us with a clear, tidy explanation that happens to point everywhere except at her." Rachel felt something cold settle in her stomach as she said it out loud for the first time. How the hell had she overlooked this until now? "She built Hartley's access herself, if you think about it the wrong way," she continued. "Not literally…but she's the only person at that company who could have engineered exactly the kind of trail she found, if she'd wanted to."

"That's a hell of an accusation to build on hindsight."

"I know. It could just as easily mean she's exactly who she looks like, a brilliant engineer who happened to catch something the rest of us missed." Rachel pushed the legal pad away slightly, frustrated with herself. "But brilliance, access, and enough physical strength to hold a needle steady against a moving target. All of that describes her fine. So does the zeal. She didn't just build that model. She talked about it like…like scripture. Every conversation we've had with her, she's defended it like it was something sacred, not something she got paid to maintain."

Novak was quiet for a moment, turning it over. "And if she's the one who's been steering us this whole time, feeding us just enough to look helpful while keeping us away from her."

"And from that point of view, Sloan going public this morning didn't just embarrass the company. It made him her enemy. Shit, it could have maybe even made him her next target, if we're right about any of this."

“If,” Novak said.

Rachel closed the legal pad, feeling the shape of the theory even as she doubted parts of it. "It's a stretch. I know it's a stretch. We don't have anything close to proof, just a pattern that fits a little too well once you squint at it the right way."

"Doesn't mean it's wrong."

Rachel drained the rest of her coffee, the third cup since they'd sat down, and set the mug back on the table with a soft clink. "But it's enough reason to go back out there and look her in the eye again. After Sloan’s announcement this morning, if she is what we’re thinking she is, I’d imagine her demeanor has changed quite a bit. We can see if she still feels as helpful the second time around."

Novak was already signaling the waitress with one hand raised, making the universal gesture for the check. "Then let's get moving right before I talk myself into a fourth plate of bacon."

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Less than two hours had passed since they'd left the Apogee lot, but the parking area looked nothing like it had at seven o'clock. A cluster of news vans had claimed the curb near the main entrance, satellite masts angled up over the building's glass face, and a handful of reporters stood near the property line with microphones and cameramen already rolling. A single security guard in a poorly fitted blazer was trying to hold a rough perimeter with orange cones and a length of retractable belt strap. Rachel could tell at once that his training had stopped at "look for badges and IDs." He didn't seem at all prepared to manage a press siege.

"That's not going to hold," Novak said, already reaching for his phone as Rachel pulled into a spot near the far end of the lot. "I'll get Corbin to send a couple of uniforms over here before somebody gets run over trying to get a shot of the building. That poor security guy looks very much out of his element."

He had the call connected before Rachel shut off the engine, walking a few steps away to talk while she watched the guard get jostled by a reporter angling for a better position. By the time Novak climbed back into the car, the guard had given up on the cones entirely and was mostly just standing in front of the door with his arms crossed.

"Corbin's sending two cars," Novak said. "Should be here in ten, fifteen minutes."

"Good. That poor kid looks like he's about two questions away from a breakdown." Rachel got out and shut her door, and the two of them cut a wide path around the edge of the media cluster. They ignored the two reporters who called out toward them.

Once they got inside, the lobby seemed almost eerily calm by contrast. The noise from outside swallowed the moment the glass doors slid shut behind them. The young man behind the reception desk sat up straighter when he saw them coming, and Rachel recognized him as the same one from their first visit the day before—the same one who'd walked them up to Oakley's office without complaint.

"Agents." He stood this time, unprompted. "It's, uh, a lot out there today. Is that why you’re here?"

"Not exactly," Novak said. "We need to see Dr. Sloan."