Page 9 of Code Name: Ember
Call 911.
Run.
Stay hidden.
My fingers hover over my phone in my coat pocket, but I don’t pull it out.The sound of a vibration could give me away.For all I know, he’s standing right outside the door, listening.
Silence for one beat, two, then… footsteps again, but not coming closer.The scrape of shoes retreating across the concrete.The sound grows fainter and seconds later, a car door shuts with a heavy thud.
The engine roars and tires squeal briefly against wet pavement.The sound of the SUV driving away fades into the night beyond.
I don’t move.
Not immediately.
My body is still braced for impact, every muscle locked.The fluorescent light flickers above me and somewhere below, a door slams and someone laughs, unaware.
I finally let my breath leave in a broken rush.
Erik’s dead.Murdered right before my eyes.
Slipping my hand in my pocket, I wrap my fingers around the flash drive.Whatever is on here was harmful enough to get Erik killed, which means, there’s truth to it.
Now I possess the knowledge that could render me the same.
A rational citizen who just saw a man murdered would call the police.But if I did that, I would have to give my name.I would become a witness, and I would then become a target.If RainVest is behind this as I suspect, they’re clearly not averse to killing witnesses.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, a plea to Erik if he’s listening from the beyond that I can’t do anything for him in this moment.
But I can make sure his death isn’t in vain.
By the time I make it home, I’m shaking even worse.I drop my bag, lock every dead bolt, and sink onto the couch.The flash drive sits in my palm, cold metal against clammy skin.
Follow the burn patterns.
I have no clue what he meant by that.I plug it into my laptop and start scanning dozens of files.
Spreadsheets.Purchase records.Environmental assessments.My breath slows as I click through them.Some of this stuff I’ve seen, but most of it I haven’t.It’s not publicly available information.
Land parcels bought days after fires ended.Shell corporations with meaningless names but all linked back to RainVest.
Every file traces back to the same developer.Every burned acre, every “natural disaster,” every community that never recovered.
I glance at emails, internal memos and call logs.Thousands and thousands of pages to weed through.
Erik said the proof is in here and now I have to mine for it.
My stomach twists.It’s the story of my career, but all I can think about is Erik’s face in that garage, the fear in his voice… the sickening crunch of his bones.
My pulse pounds in my throat and I rise from the couch with restless energy.Every instinct screams to push a story through fast, because if I put it out there, it would bring me a measure of safety.But the rational part of me knows better.If RainVest really killed Erik to keep this from going any further, I’m pretty much dead if I’m discovered.
Which means I have to make sure the proof is good enough for criminal charges to be brought against whoever’s behind it all.I’m going to have to dig deeper, and I know for sure I can’t do this alone.
I grab my phone and scroll through contacts, past colleagues, police sources, lawyers.None of them can help me with this.None of them know fire like—
My thumb hesitates over a name.I refused to delete him from my contacts when we parted ways five years ago, because I couldn’t bear the thought of relegating him to oblivion.
Cole Mercer.
