Chapter 9: The Key Fob in the Dust
The sharp clatter of the plastic key fob echoing off the brick walls broke the tense stillness of the loft. Dr. Vance winced as Julian twisted his wrist slightly, though the older man’s eyes remained defiant.
“Step back, Julian,” Evelyn commanded sharply, her voice cutting through the adrenaline in the room. She kept her posture rigid, her teal suit jacket serving as her armor. “We don't need a physical altercation. If you assault him, we lose the moral high ground and give the police the exact excuse they need to lock Clara away permanently.”
Julian hesitated, his chest heaving as he stared down at Vance. The scratch on his cheek burned, a crimson streak against his pale skin. Slowly, he released the doctor’s arm and stepped back, keeping his body positioned between Vance and Clara.
Vance rubbed his wrist, smoothing his jacket sleeve with an air of practiced dignity. He didn't bend down to retrieve the key fob. Instead, he met Julian’s glare with a chilling calmness. “You are as reckless as your wife, Mr. Hayes. Violence solves nothing, and it certainly won't erase the digital footprint already synchronized to our secure off-site servers.”
Clara clutched the small silver flash drive tighter in her palm, her knuckles white. “Your off-site servers only mirror what was uploaded before midnight, Vance. This drive contains the encrypted root directory. The moment I plug it into a public terminal, your redundant backups automatically self-destruct.”
Vance’s expression finally flickered, a genuine flash of panic crossing his stern features. “You wouldn't. The data corruption would wipe out three years of legitimate neurological research alongside the fraudulent files.”
“Then you should have thought about that before you rigged my brakes,” Clara retorted, her voice unwavering.
Evelyn walked over to the drafting table, looking down at the laptop screen that still glowed with lines of green code. She reached out and gently touched Clara’s shoulder. “My dear, if what you’re saying is true, we need to get you out of the city entirely. Vance has contacts within the municipal police department. If we stay here much longer, his backup will arrive.”
May you like
“There’s no need for backup,” a new voice echoed from the shadows near the stairwell entrance.
Everyone turned in unison. A heavy-set man in a plain grey trench coat stepped out from the darkness of the stair landing, holding a small leather badge case open in his palm. It was Detective Miller, the lead investigator assigned to Clara’s car accident. His face was weathered and expressionless, framed by thinning grey hair.
