“No.”
“He doesn’t know we found this archive.”
Christine stepped closer.
“You are a waitress, Sarah.”
“For now.”
“This is not a movie.”
“I know.”
“Men have died.”
“My father died.”
Christine’s face softened.
“That is exactly why I won’t let you.”
Hank spoke.
“She’s right.”
Sarah turned.
“Excuse me?”
“We use Cutter.”
Christine stared at him.
Hank continued.
“Not Sarah alone. We control the setting.”
Diana stepped forward.
“I’m going too.”
Sarah stared.
“No.”
Diana raised an eyebrow.
“Interesting.”
The plan was simple enough to sound dangerous.
Sarah would retrieve the Waterfront box.
Cutter would be allowed to approach.
He would believe he had won.
Then Sarah would tell him they had found the second archive.
Not reveal where.
Just enough to make him panic.
If Vale had spent two decades protecting Cutter, Cutter’s first move after realizing the archive survived would be to contact Vale.
They needed that contact.
Waterfront Park looked almost peaceful at dawn.
February fog hung above the Willamette.
Sarah walked alone toward the third bench.
The phone in her apron pocket transmitted audio.
Hank hated the apron.
“You look like you came straight from work.”
“That’s the point.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s who they think I am.”
He had looked at her for a long time.
“Who are you?”
Sarah answered, “Still figuring that out.”
She reached beneath the bench.
Found the sealed panel.
Inside was the box.
Her birthday opened it.
FEBRUARYSEVENTEENTHNINETEENNINETYNINE.
Frank had been precise.
The lock clicked.
Inside lay accounting ledgers, photographs and handwritten notes.
Sarah had only seconds to look.
One photograph stopped her.
Frank stood beside Hank.
On the back:
BROTHERS UNTIL TRUTH COSTS US BOTH.
“Don’t move.”
The voice came behind her.
Cutter’s man.
Exactly as expected.
Then another.
Then another.
Dale Cutter arrived in a black SUV.
He stepped out wearing a dark wool coat.
Sixty-three.
Silver hair.
No visible weapon.
He looked like an aging attorney or a university donor.
Not a man whose name had haunted three lives for twenty-four years.
He stopped in front of Sarah.
“You have his eyes.”
Sarah hated that those were his first words.
“You’ve said that before.”
Cutter frowned.
She had him.
He looked at the men around him.
“Did she see me?”
“No.”
Sarah smiled slightly.
“Someone’s been talking.”
Cutter understood.
“Phone.”
One of his men searched her.
Found it.
Destroyed it against the pavement.
Sarah’s stomach dropped.
That had not been planned.
Cutter smiled.
“No prosecutor today.”
Sarah said nothing.
He held out his hand.
“The box.”
She gave it to him.
Hank, hidden across the park, would hate that too.
Cutter opened it.
He looked almost emotional.
“Twenty-four years.”
“You killed him for that.”
“Frank killed himself the moment he decided conscience made him smarter than everybody else.”
Sarah’s hands curled.
“Did Vale tell you to kill him?”
Cutter’s eyes moved to her.
There.
Small.
But real.
“Who?”
Sarah smiled.
“Robert Vale.”
Cutter’s face emptied.
His men looked at each other.
“You found the second archive,” Cutter said.
Not a question.
Sarah’s heart hammered.
She smiled.
“Maybe.”
Cutter stepped closer.
“Where?”
“Maybe Claire Donnelly was better at hiding things than you were at finding them.”
His control cracked.
“Where?”
“Ask Vale.”
Cutter slapped her.
The blow knocked Sarah sideways.
Somewhere in the tree line, Hank nearly moved.
Christine held him back.
Sarah tasted blood.
Cutter stared at her.
Then something extraordinary happened.
He laughed.
Not amused.
Relieved.
“You think Vale protected me.”
Sarah looked up.
“He did.”
Cutter crouched.
“No, sweetheart.”
He leaned close.
“I protected him.”
Sarah’s mind stopped.
Cutter whispered, “Robert Vale built the network.”
The twist moved through her like ice.
“He used me to move money. Frank thought I was the spider.”
Cutter smiled bitterly.
“I was just the largest fly.”
“Then why kill my father?”
“Because Vale ordered it.”
Sarah stared.
Cutter looked almost tired now.
“You know what Frank’s mistake was? Believing the government and the criminals were two different buildings.”
He stood.
One of the men approached.
“Boss.”
Cutter ignored him.
“Frank came to me two days before he died. Offered me a deal.”
Sarah frowned.
“What deal?”
“He wanted me to testify.”
“You’re lying.”
“He realized Vale was preparing to eliminate both of us.”
Sarah stared.
“Frank offered you immunity.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you take it?”
Cutter smiled sadly.
“Pride.”
The word sounded almost ridiculous.
“I thought I could beat Vale.”
“And instead you murdered Frank.”
“Yes.”
At least he did not pretend.
Sarah whispered, “My mother said he didn’t give up the evidence.”
“He didn’t.”
Cutter looked toward the river.
“He was tougher than I deserved.”
Sarah’s throat tightened.
“Why have you hunted me for twenty-four years?”
Cutter looked back.
“First ten years? Because Vale wanted you found.”
“And after that?”
“Because I needed the evidence before he did.”
Sarah stared.
“You were afraid of him.”
“Still am.”
A car engine sounded near the park entrance.
Cutter’s face changed.
One black sedan.
Government plates.
His men stiffened.
Sarah saw the fear.
Real fear.
Cutter whispered, “He’s early.”
A man stepped from the sedan.
Tall.