Page 73 of His Wall

The fire-escape window in the kitchen. Lock engaged. I tested it with the heel of my hand.

The back door off the laundry room. Lock engaged. Deadbolt thrown. I tested it.

I came back into the living room.

He was standing where I had left him.

He had not moved. His hands were in his pockets. His sandy hair was flat on the left side from where he had hit the wheel well. His hazel eyes were on me and they had not left me since the garage.

"Sit down, Julian."

"No."

"Sit down."

"No."

I let it go.

I took two steps toward the kitchen. I stopped beside the counter. He stayed where he was, 10 ft. across the room, his back to the bookshelf with the records on it.

I took my coat off. I laid it on the back of the chair. I was scared. I didn’t know why. I knew I never meant for him to find out this way — or find out at all.

I looked at him and his face hadn’t changed.

"My name isn't Claire."

He said nothing.

"My name is Leah Calder. I am a federal agent. I work long-term financial investigations out of the New York field office. I have been embedded in your firm for five months."

His face did not change.

"The Bureau has been investigating Conrad Weiss for fifteen months. Ten months ago, intercepted communications between Weiss and an unknown party with deep system access at the Vanguard pointed to you as Weiss's inside man. The Bureau's working theory was that you had been compromised at the founding and had remained Weiss's asset through the transition. I was sent in to prove it."

"Stop."

"Julian — "

"Stop."

He had not moved.

I stopped.

I gave him the space. I gave it to him until his hand came up and he ran it down his face, from the bridge of his nose to his jaw. His breathing went out of him in one long shape and back in.

"Keep going."

"I installed monitoring on your laptop in week three. I have been pulling your file activity. I photographed your private archive — the shell-company maps, the trust records, the judge. I did not yet send them to my handler. I sent them ten minutes ago, from the garage."

He said nothing.

"I came here last night believing you were Conrad Weiss's inside man at the Vanguard. I let you carry me down that hallway believing it. I woke up in your bed this morning believing it. I was wrong about you, Julian. The shooting confirmed it. Conrad does not shoot his assets. He shoots his problems. You were never working for him. You were investigating him. I see that now."

He looked at the bedroom door.

It was open. The bed was visible. The sheets were tangled. His shirt was on the floor at the foot of it.