I looked at Carter. His hand was trembling slightly as his father held his bicep. Carter’s other hand was instinctively sliding toward the front pocket of his slacks, brushing against the unmistakable rectangular shape of his smartphone.
My mind snapped back to ten minutes ago. Before Carter had attacked my bracelet, before he had noticed me photographing the lapel pin, he had been standing by the water cooler, furiously typing a response to someone on his phone. His expression had shifted from bored annoyance to predatory interest.
He didn't target my medical bracelet because he thought I was faking it. He targeted it because someone told him to.
“He checked his messages,” I blurted out, breaking the standoff. The sudden volume of my voice made Nurse Ellis jump.
Miller turned his silver hair toward me, his tactical flashlight lowering. “What?”
“Before he cornered me,” I said, locking my eyes entirely on Richard Vance's rigid back. I pushed myself up from the chair. My knees trembled for a second before finding their strength. “Carter was texting someone. He looked right at me, put his phone in his pocket, and immediately came for my bracelet.”
I pulled my own cheap smartphone from my pocket and unlocked the screen. I turned it around to face Agent Miller. The high-resolution photo I had taken ten minutes ago was blown up on the display—the interlocking double-triangle logo of Apex Contracting on the heavy gold lapel pin attached to Richard Vance's tuxedo.
“He was looking for proof of my identity,” I said, my voice finally rising, ringing with the absolute clarity of truth. “Because his father’s old shell company is sitting right on his jacket lapel. The same company that signed the structural papers the day the C-wing stairs fell three years ago.”
Haddock gasped. The pieces were finally locking into place in his administrative brain, horrified that he was caught in the blast radius of a federal crime.
Vance slowly turned around. The polished, elegant donor was gone. The man standing there now possessed the cold, lethal eyes of a cornered predator.
“Agent Miller,” Vance practically hissed, his mask slipping entirely. “Confiscate her phone. That is a baseless, slanderous accusation from a deranged child looking for a payout.”
“Don't tell me how to do my job,” Miller growled. He snapped his fingers and pointed directly at Carter. “Trooper. Seize the boy’s phone.”
A state investigator stepped forward, holding out an evidence bag. “Hand it over, son.”
“Carter, give them absolutely nothing. You invoke your right to remain silent, and you wait for our lawyer!” Vance shouted, stepping in front of his son.
But Carter was an eighteen-year-old high school student who had only ever known the protective armor of wealth, and he was currently staring down four state troopers with guns on their hips. He didn't have his father's criminal discipline. He was cracking under the sheer terror of federal prison.
“Dad, they're going to arrest me!” Carter whimpered, stepping out from behind Vance. His hands shook as he pulled his heavy, thousand-dollar smartphone from his slacks.
“Don’t do it!” Vance ordered, grabbing for the phone.
Miller stepped between them, his hand resting aggressively on his holster. Vance stopped dead, his chest heaving, realizing in one horrible instant that his money could not save him in this room.