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As we walked into Guy's study, the murmurs died, replaced by a palpable silence. The room was full of expectation, the air thick with anticipation.
The time had come to spill the beans. My heart pounded in my chest, my throat felt dry, and I could barely hear anything over the sound of my own heartbeat. But when I glanced at Courtney, her hand still in mine, I found the courage I needed.
Guy's announcement that Courtney had returned to San Diego took everyone by surprise. After a moment of stunned silence, Amy was the first one to find her voice. She stood up, her eyes welling, looking at Courtney with admiration and concern.
There was an unspoken agreement in the room, a united front ready to back Courtney up. After all, we were not just colleagues. We were a family. And we stood by our own.
"Alright, everyone. Settle down," Guy told us, his voice echoing in the room full of attentive faces. "Courtney has returned for more than a reunion, although that is indeed a very pleasant reason. She and Brad are bringing a matter of significant importance to our attention."
Everyone looked around, their surprise evident. The room was filled with a flurry of whispered questions and confused glances bouncing from one to the other. After all, they'd all been under the impression that Courtney was merely resuming her position at Rosedale perhaps for the sake of her own safety.
Giuseppe, always the voice of reason, addressed the group. "We kept the real purpose under wraps for security reasons. This concerns an ongoing investigation that has repercussions for all of us here at Rosedale that I only heard about yesterday.”
As the murmurs subsided, Courtney started explaining the bizarre circumstances.
"Last week, a package arrived for me from Nanc," she began and described her friend's unusual encounters at City Deli. She spoke about the strange man who watched Rosedale's office from inside the deli. Courtney shared how the man had a peculiar taste for the lemon and ginger Olipop, an order she herself had placed a few times while working delivery. The oddity of it all was not lost on us.
Then, Courtney unfurled the pictures. "This man," she said, pointing at the images of the back of the man's head and his partial profile, "is Clint Tyree."
Gasps echoed in the room.
“And he's been trying to get in touch with me. He even left his card at the deli," she concluded with a hint of steel in her voice.
The room fell silent again, everyone grappling with this unexpected turn of events. I looked around, studying the shocked faces. Here was the first tangible lead to a mystery that had been haunting us for years, and it felt like we were on the cusp of something monumental.
With the room in hushed silence, Chase shot up from his chair, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. "That Clint! That goddamned Clint!" he spat out, the harsh words echoing in the room. His anger was palpable, his usual calm composure replaced with a fiery rage.
He glared at the pictures of Clint, his eyes hard. "He left us in the lurch during the grant writing process for the Golden Key Project. Abandoned us without a second thought," Chase continued, his voice laced with bitter resentment.
"But thank God for my wife, Meagan," he added, casting a glance at Meagan. She nodded back, a look of grim determination on her face. "She stepped up to the plate when we needed her most, filling in the gaps Clint had left."
The room filled with murmurs of agreement, heads nodding at Chase's words. Courtney and I exchanged a glance, the revelations bringing new light to Clint Tyree's actions.
But that wasn't the end of it. Daniel rose from his seat, his face clouded with a mix of anger and disbelief. "And let's not forget his proposition," Daniel added, his voice steady. "He wanted us to move Rosedale Tech to Seattle soon after we'd established it here. Just because he hailed from there."
A few murmurs of surprise rippled across the room at Daniel's revelation. It seemed Clint's ambition and personal interest knew no bounds.
"The rest of us — Ryder, Guy, Chase, Mitch, Brad and myself — wanted to stay in Southern California," Daniel explained further. "We knew most of the big ten tech companies were here. We initially wanted to start up in Silicon Valley, but the real estate prices were exorbitant."
As more details about Clint's past actions came to light, the atmosphere in the room grew more tense, everyone grappling with the implications of the newly unearthed information. It was clear that Clint Tyree was more enmeshed in the mystery of Rosedale than anyone had initially thought.
After Courtney's shocking revelation, an uneasy silence hung in the air. Among the shocked faces, there was one man who seemed unusually composed. Agent Kenneth Downing, a seasoned FBI agent who had been part of the Rosedale crew for months.
His association with us was an unlikely one. Downing was known in some circles as a dirty agent on the payroll of the Russo crime family, a connection that had initially raised more than a few eyebrows among the Rosedale crew. Giuseppe, a member of the same family, had been the link that brought Downing into the fold.
Despite his murky affiliations, Downing was far from a typical dirty agent. He had come to appreciate the camaraderie and unity within the Rosedale group and, over time had developed a genuine fondness for them. His loyalty was no longer dictated by money alone. Yes, Giuseppe's payments facilitated his work, but he also saw himself as a part of our unconventional family.
Downing was one of those rare individuals who managed to balance a perilous double life. Despite his ties to the underworld, he used his position to aid the Rosedale crew rather than exploit us, often leveraging his access to FBI resources for our benefit. It was a complicated dynamic, one fraught with risks, but it was a dynamic that had served us well thus far.
As everyone was absorbing the shocking revelation, Downing was already moving into action.
"What's Tyree's full name?" he asked, his tone matter-of-fact. "I'll create an FBI profile on him."
Courtney held up the image of the business card for everyone to see. "His full name is Clinton Brighton Tyree," she announced, her voice steady. As I glanced around the room, I saw a mixture of emotions on everyone's faces: shock, disbelief, and a hardening resolve to solve the mystery that had plagued us for far too long.
It was Giuseppe who broke the silence, rising to his feet to face Courtney and me. He looked both solemn and proud. "I think we owe you two a debt of gratitude," he began, his voice strong yet filled with genuine concern. "You've faced a danger that we've been hoping to confront. I won't pretend to understand what you've been through but know this — we are here for you and stand by you."
His sincere words were met with murmurs of agreement, the room echoing with sentiments of solidarity. Even amid the fear and confusion, a powerful sense of camaraderie prevailed.
