"Brandon."
"Brandon, wake up. We’ve got work."
Brandon was stretched out in a chair in the break room, a jacket flung over his face as he tried to nap. He’d barely drifted off when someone shook him awake.
"Come on, up. Now."
He groaned. "What is it? Your wife finally in labor?"
His coworker kicked him in the leg. "Wilma’s case. We’ve got a lead. Check your phone—watch the video."
"This woman is unreal. She put together all the evidence, posted it online, and nailed them. With what’s in this video, we could go after Emerson for real."
Brandon bolted upright, heart pounding, and grabbed his phone. He scrolled to the news, and a woman’s calm, steady voice played through the speakers. She spoke so clearly, so smoothly, like she’d practiced these words a thousand times. Every sentence hit hard.
All around him, coworkers started buzzing.
"Where has she even been this whole time? We searched everywhere and came up empty."
"She’s gotta have someone powerful backing her."
"Seriously, who could teach her to pull something like this off?"
As Brandon listened, an image popped into his mind—her face, pale and striking. His fingers tightened around his phone without him even realizing.
His coworker waited for the video to end, then nudged him. "Pretty impressive, right?"



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