Dylan nodded wildly. “Yes! Cam knows the logs wipe at 2:00 AM. He made me come here tonight to physically remove the drive he plugged into the external port, so there’s no hardware evidence left.”
Dylan reached into his pocket and held up the silver flash drive.
My eyes locked onto it. The final piece of the puzzle. The weapon that would destroy Cameron Sterling.
“Give it to me, Dylan,” I said softly, holding out my hand.
“I can’t!” Dylan cried, pulling it back to his chest. “If I don't give it to Cam tomorrow, he’ll ruin me! You don't understand how powerful his dad is!”
“I understand power far better than Cameron does,” I said. I took a step closer, letting the frail janitor persona drop completely. I stood up straight. My voice deepened, carrying the cold authority of a CEO who commanded thousands of employees. “Give me the drive, Dylan. If you hand it over now, I will personally guarantee your family is protected. If you don't, you will go to federal prison with him.”
Dylan stared at me, his mouth open. He could hear the shift. He didn't understand how a janitor could speak like that, but he believed it.
Slowly, his trembling hand extended. He dropped the silver drive into my palm.
My fingers closed around it. “Go home, Dylan. Do exactly as you normally would tomorrow.”
Dylan scrambled to his feet, grabbed his laptop, and bolted out the door.
I turned back to the server rack. I had the drive. The evidence was secure.
But as I stepped out into the hallway, a blinding white light hit me squarely in the face.
“Stop right there! Put your hands against the wall!” a voice barked from the darkness.
My stomach dropped. I raised my hand to shield my eyes. Through the glare of the tactical flashlight, I could see the silhouette of a heavy-set man in a black uniform. He was holding a stun gun leveled directly at my chest. Two other men stepped out from the stairwell behind him.
They weren't local police. They weren't school staff.
They were private security. Arthur Sterling’s private security. Headmaster Davis must have called them to sweep the building after the parking lot incident, paranoid that someone might snoop around before the board meeting.
“I said put your hands against the wall!” the lead guard shouted, stepping closer.
I didn't move. I tightened my grip on the silver flash drive in my pocket. If they searched me and found it, Arthur would destroy it immediately. The entire three-year operation would collapse.
The guard closed the distance, shoving the flashlight aggressively into my face.
“Deaf or stupid, old lady?” he snarled. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder roughly, spinning me around to slam me against the brick wall.
As I spun, the harsh beam of the flashlight caught my face in full illumination.
The guard’s hand suddenly froze on my shoulder.
He stared at me. He blinked. Then, he looked up the hallway, toward the Founder’s Atrium, where a massive, velvet-draped portrait hung in the shadows—a portrait of the mysterious billionaire benefactor who had bailed the school out of bankruptcy three years ago. A portrait no one was allowed to look at.
The guard looked back at my face. He looked at the heavy gold signet ring glinting on my exposed right hand.
“Oh my god,” the guard breathed, all the aggression instantly draining from his body. He stumbled backward, dropping his flashlight so it pointed at the floor. He reached frantically for the radio on his shoulder.
My heart hammered against my ribs. The lowest point of my life, trapped in a basement, about to lose everything.
But I didn't press my panic button for Elias.
Instead, I stood up tall, brushed the dust off my shoulder where he had grabbed me, and stared the terrified guard dead in the eye.