“Who at Arden?”
“You.”
“Harlan?”
“No.”
Naomi’s eyes flicked toward her.
“Keep it that way.”
Evan noticed.
“So you agree with me.”
Naomi looked at him.
“I agree nobody contacts anyone until we understand what we have.”
Maria asked:
“Is that legal advice to your CEO or preservation advice regarding potential evidence?”
Naomi gave her a small smile.
“You are?”
“Evan Mercer’s counsel.”
“Both.”
The evidence specialist photographed the exterior.
Then the cockpit.
They opened a narrow storage compartment behind the seat.
Inside sat a sealed aluminum case about the size of a hardcover book.
The rubber gasket had cracked with age.
On top was a piece of masking tape.
Three words in black marker:
FRANK — NOT VOSS
Everyone looked at Evan.
He swallowed.
“My father’s handwriting?”
Noah asked.
Evan nodded.
Camille stared at him.
“You’ve never seen this?”
“No.”
“You buried the car without opening it?”
“My father buried it.”
“When?”
“I was twenty.”
“After your father’s death?”
“No.”
“After yours.”
Camille frowned.
“Meaning?”
“After Graham Arden’s.”
The evidence specialist photographed the case before lifting.
Naomi said:
“We do not open that here.”
Camille’s frustration returned.
“Why?”
“If it contains documents, media, or anything potentially relevant to litigation or criminal conduct, I want neutral custody.”
Evan asked:
“What neutral?”
Naomi considered.
“Outside forensic firm.”
Maria said:
“And duplicate inventory signed by all parties.”
“Agreed.”
Camille looked between attorneys.
“My father may have left something inside a box twenty-two years ago and I have to wait for paperwork?”
Naomi looked at her.
“Yes.”
Camille hated that answer.
Which meant it was probably correct.
The garage doors opened wider.
A black sedan stopped outside.
Evan looked toward it.
Camille’s stomach tightened.
Harlan Voss climbed out.
He was sixty-four.
Silver hair.
Tall.
Tailored charcoal suit.
The man Camille had known since childhood.
He had attended every birthday after her father died.
He had walked her down the aisle at her first wedding before that marriage ended four years later.
He had been there when she took control of Arden Mobility at twenty-nine.
He had been the one telling her she was ready when everyone else called her too young.
Harlan stepped into the garage.
He saw Camille first.
Then Naomi.
Then Evan.
Then the AR-7.
He stopped.
Camille watched his face.
One second.
That was all she needed.