Grant’s hand moved toward his pocket.
Every officer in the laundry room tightened, but Romero had already warned them: Grant built traps around visible panic. Do not let every movement become the one he wants. The nearest officer shifted angle instead of firing. Another pulled Laura’s shoulder line slightly with a hooked tool, just enough to create separation if Grant lunged. Grant noticed and dragged her back.
“You don’t know what she did,” he said.
Romero said, “Then tell us.”
Grant laughed. “On camera?”
“Yes.”
That answer surprised him.
Like most men who lie professionally, Grant expected the truth to be dangerous only for other people. He did not expect police to invite his words into evidence.
He looked down at Laura. “She stole from me.”
Laura’s voice was raw. “I copied what you hid.”
“That was my business.”
“Those women were your business?”
The room went still.
Grant’s face changed.
Romero kept him talking. “What women?”
Grant answered too quickly. “She’s confused.”
Laura coughed, then forced the words out. “Emily Carver. Dana Wilkes. Marlene Cho.”
Grant shook her hard enough that one officer stepped forward.
Romero snapped, “Hold.”
Laura winced but continued. “All accidental. All insured. All reviewed by Carl Denton.”
Grant’s mouth opened.
The command post heard it all.
Torres turned to a detective beside her. “Run those names now.”
Daniel did not take his eyes from the screen.
Emily Carver.
Dana Wilkes.
Marlene Cho.
The names transformed the room. This was not one domestic assault. Not one attempted murder. Not one staged explosion. Laura had uncovered a pattern before Grant tried to turn her into the newest accident.
Grant’s voice dropped into something colder. “You should have stayed out of old files.”
Laura looked at Romero. “USB behind dryer wall. Pipe gap.”
Grant exploded into motion.
Not toward the officers.
Toward the wall.
He released Laura with one arm and reached back toward the panel, desperate to grab what she had just named. The team moved instantly. One officer pulled Laura away. Romero drove forward. Grant twisted, trying to reach the gap, but slipped on the water from the disconnected dryer hose.
He hit the floor hard.
Two officers pinned him before he could regain balance.
“Hands!”
Grant screamed, not like a man in pain, but like a man watching his real life leave his body.
“You don’t know what’s on that drive!”
Daniel, watching from outside, said softly, “That’s why he kept her alive.”
Torres looked at him.
“He didn’t just need the voice.”
Daniel nodded toward the monitor as an officer removed a small taped flash drive from the wall.
“He needed the proof.”
And the moment that drive came out, Grant stopped struggling.
That was how everyone knew Laura had told the truth.