The line disconnected.
I rubbed both hands down my face and stared back at the screen.
Outside, wind rattled lightly against the office windows.
Inside, anger settled low and steady in my chest.
Because somebody saw this evidence.
Somebody chose to ignore it.
My phone buzzed nearly forty minutes later.
“I found traces of the footage,” Blaze said immediately.
I sat forward. “Traces?”
“The original file was pulled from evidence storage.”
“By who?”
“Access logs are wiped.”
Of course they were.
“Can you recover it?”
Keys clicked rapidly in the background.
“I’m trying.”
A long pause followed.
Then suddenly—
“Wait.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
“What?”
“There’s a partial backup.”
My pulse kicked hard.
“Send it.”
The file hit my inbox seconds later.
I opened it immediately.
Grainy black-and-white footage flickered onto the screen.
A dark intersection.
Rain-slick pavement.
Headlights cutting through the night.