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“She told Costa, the fed,” Colton said wryly.
“Oh. That’s—okay. It’s not him. But he can’t tell anyone.”
“What’s got you so stressed?” Kara asked.
“This morning, I was at LAPD headquarters and realized that almost all your reports,” he said, nodding toward Colton, “weren’t there.”
“I sent them directly to Craig because Gomez was concerned about a potential leak or if someone saw my name, they’d realize I wasn’t dead.”
“But after Craig was killed, everything from his office was sent to the sheriff’s—the detective running the investigation, I talked to him.” He snapped his fingers trying to remember his name.
“McPherson,” Kara said.
“Right. McPherson. He said he had the files and would be looking through them, but he was working closely with this detective Caprese from LAPD. I went today because I wanted to check on Violet, make sure she was okay after everything that happened, and saw the box from Dyson’s office. It was open there on the table and it had hardly anything in it. Someone stole your files—specifically, all the pictures you took outside the group homes and nonprofits.”
“You’re jumping the gun, buddy,” Colton said, trying to calm Will down. “Gomez could have ordered copies made, or she sent them to someone else for analysis. This was a tight case until now.”
“No. There were no photos listed in the log of files taken from Craig’s office. I know he had them—I saw your reports in his office last Friday. Pictures with names, organizational charts, financial statements.”
Colton frowned, and Kara said, “Could he have taken them home? Put them somewhere for safekeeping?”
“Maybe,” Will admitted, “but that’s not the only reason I’m suspicious that someone might have destroyed them.”
“First,” Colton said, “I have copies of everything. You think I would send my only copy?”
“Yes, but your house was tossed, and the police were here. Gina, tell them.”
Gina was biting her thumbnail, but she spoke clearly. “I came in early this morning with Fletch. As soon as I opened up, that detective who was here Tuesday? He walked right in. Said he had a warrant to search the place. Showed me a piece of paper that looked official, but didn’t let me keep it. He was with another guy—the guy from the sketch.”
Kara tensed. “Conrad.”
“Yeah. I guess. Will showed us the sketch and told us to call the police if we saw him. But... I was scared.”
Fletch took her hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, baby. Finish it.”
“This place isn’t big, but they went through the offices, they looked in the cabinets and they took the computer. Gave me a receipt, but...it was weird. I called Will as soon as they left.”
Will put his hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Gina.”
“I’m really sorry,” she said.
“You and Fletch, go home. Stay clean—okay? You need a meeting, go to a meeting. But lie low and I’ll call you later.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Will said and walked them out. He locked the door behind them.
Kara asked Colton, “Where is your copy?”
“Safe.”
“Tell me.”
“You can come with me to retrieve it.”
That told Kara nothing, but before she could argue with him, Will said, “That’s not all. I listened to the press conference and something bothered me. So I listened again to the podcast that exposed Lydia Zarian’s sister as running some of these nonprofits. And it clicked.”
“Explain,” Kara said. “Clearly, as if I’m a child.”
