He slid a paper folder across the table.
Inside were copies of internal police records.
Malik looked up.
“How'd you get these?”
“They were provided through lawful audit access.”
“You look like you stole them.”
Whitaker laughed weakly.
“I feel like I stole my own wallet.”
Malik flipped through pages.
Evidence-destruction logs.
Signatures.
Transfer numbers.
One signature repeated often.
Sergeant Owen Blake.
Malik had not known the name then.
He would learn it well.
Whitaker tapped one page.
“See this batch?”
“Sixteen kilograms.”
“Destroyed fourteen months ago.”
“Okay.”
Whitaker handed him another document.
“Hospital toxicology seizure three months later.”
Same lot markings.
Not all numbers.
Enough.
Malik looked toward him.
“You're sure?”
“I don't guess with numbers.”
“People do.”
“I don't.”
Fair.
Whitaker leaned closer.
“The evidence room is leaking.”
“Could be paperwork.”
“It isn't.”
“You have proof?”
“Not enough.”
Malik closed the folder.
“What do you need?”
“Access history.”
“To what?”
“Restricted case records.”
Malik frowned.
Whitaker continued.
“Somebody has been viewing sealed search warrants before they're executed.”
That was bigger.
“How do you know?”
“Three properties tied to Northstar were cleared out within hours of warrant approval.”
“Could be attorney leaks.”
“Could.”
Whitaker nodded.
“Except one warrant never left the police internal server.”
Malik sat back.
“Who could see it?”
“Five people.”
“Names?”
Whitaker hesitated.
Then shook his head.
“Not here.”
Malik felt irritation.
“Gabriel.”
“Someone is watching the audit trail.”
“We can protect you.”
Whitaker smiled sadly.
“You can protect me after you know which direction to face.”
Four days later, Gabriel Whitaker was found dead in a parking garage.
One gunshot.
Wallet still present.
Laptop gone.
Phone found beneath his car with the SIM removed.
No obvious robbery.
Riverside detectives opened a homicide investigation.
The state opened a parallel corruption inquiry.
Within seventy-two hours, someone leaked the existence of Whitaker's sealed cooperation agreement to a local reporter.
The article did not name the source.
Then a confidential witness connected to Northstar disappeared before a scheduled interview.
Three days later, investigators found his abandoned car near the state line.
He was eventually located alive in another state.
He admitted somebody had warned him federal and state investigators were preparing subpoenas.
That information had been restricted.
Two leaks.
Then three.
Malik began counting who knew what.
Claire began doing something more useful.
She created false information.
Not reckless false information.
Controlled investigative markers.
Different versions of the same future action delivered to different internal groups.
One team heard that investigators were preparing a search of a warehouse on Madison Avenue.
Another was told a storage site on Carr Street.
Another was told Northstar's financial office.
Within six hours, one target location changed security staff.
Carr Street.
Only four people had received Carr Street.
One was Chief Miguel Ramirez.
One was Lieutenant Paul Vance.
One was records supervisor Maya Reynolds.
One was Sergeant Owen Blake.
That narrowed things.
Not enough.
Claire wanted another test.
Whitaker had referred to a physical envelope containing a handwritten chain-of-custody summary.
No such envelope existed.
Claire created one.
Gray.
Tamper seal.
Blank pages inside except for tracking material.
She told only the four Carr Street recipients—through subtly different channels—that the Whitaker envelope would be delivered personally to Riverside headquarters for secure transfer at ten Monday morning.
Each person received slightly different identifying language.
Ramirez was told “audit packet.”
Vance heard “Whitaker financial summary.”
Maya received “sealed transfer.”
Blake's information referred specifically to “Whitaker homicide evidence.”
Malik carried the envelope.
The operation required him to enter anonymously.
No displayed badge.