They were framed. The Mayor and Chloe had stolen the money, and when the auditors got too close, Chloe had offered up my brother on a silver platter to protect her father's political career. And the guilt, the absolute terror of facing a ruined life and a forged federal crime, had driven Leo to the bridge.
The papers in my backpack didn't prove my dad was guilty. They proved his signature was forged. But Trent and Chase had the backpack. They had the original forgery.
Without the paper, this audio recording was just a digital file. A good lawyer could claim it was AI-generated, a deepfake created by a grieving, angry sister. I needed the physical proof. I needed the original document with the fake signature and the date.
I stared at the screen, my mind racing. Where would the Mayor have filed the original forged transfer forms?
I pulled the blue notebook from my pocket, desperately flipping through the pages of locker combinations and numbers. Leo was tracking something. He had found the locker, but why didn't he take the papers? Why did he leave them there?
Then I remembered the date on the audio file. October 22.
I looked at the blue notebook's list of dates and codes.
October 22nd. 11:30 PM. 748291.
Leo hadn't just broken into the school's lockers. He had broken into the school's administrative server network. These weren't just locker combinations. They were IP addresses and administrative access codes. The blue notebook was a map of every backdoor Leo had built into the town's digital infrastructure.
Chloe had taken the backpack. She had the physical papers.
But she didn't know I had the map.
CHAPTER 3
The digital clock on my nightstand glowed 4:00 AM. I hadn’t slept. I hadn't even taken off my hoodie. I sat cross-legged on my bed, the blue notebook open on my lap, staring at the sequence of numbers that corresponded to October 22nd.
748291.
I needed the original transfer forms. If Trent and Chase had given my backpack to Chloe, she had likely destroyed the copies I found in the locker. But school policy dictated that all official financial documents had to be physically filed in the school archives before being transferred to the municipal building at the end of the year.
If Leo had found copies in Locker 409, it meant the originals were still in the school’s basement archives.
I had to get them before Chloe realized what they were and sent her goons to burn the entire room down.
By 6:00 AM, the sun was barely beginning to bleed over the horizon, casting long, freezing shadows across the frost-covered lawns of Oakridge. I slipped out the back door, quietly shutting it behind me, and walked the two miles to the high school. I couldn't risk driving the Honda; Trent would spot it a mile away.
The campus was eerily quiet when I arrived at 6:45 AM. The custodial staff was already unlocking the perimeter doors, preparing the building for the massive Founder’s Day Assembly scheduled for that evening. The front gates were wide open.
I slipped inside through the loading dock entrance, moving like a ghost through the dim, heating-pipe-lined corridors of the sub-basement.
The archives were located behind a heavy, fire-rated steel door at the very end of the lowest hallway. According to school lore, no one went down here except Mr. Harrison when he needed old yearbooks, and the janitors when they needed to hide.
I reached the steel door. It was locked with a heavy electronic keypad.
I pulled out the blue notebook. I found the section labeled 'Basement Sub-Routing'. Next to it was a four-digit pin.
4829.
I punched the numbers into the keypad. A green light flashed, and the heavy internal locking mechanism clicked open with a satisfying clunk. I pulled the door open and slipped inside, letting it shut softly behind me.
The room smelled like decaying paper, dust, and ozone. Aisles of towering metal filing cabinets stretched back into the darkness. A single flickering fluorescent tube cast a sickly yellow light over the space.
I pulled my phone out, using the flashlight to navigate. I found the section marked 'Athletics Foundation – Current Year'.
My fingers were trembling as I pulled open the heavy metal drawer. It screamed in protest, metal grinding against metal. I ignored the sound, frantically thumbing through the thick green hanging folders.
September. October.
I pulled the October folder out and dumped its contents onto a nearby reading table. Stacks of receipts, requisition forms, and bank statements spilled out.
I tore through them. My heart was beating so fast I felt dizzy.