The paper trembled in Victoria's hand.
She read the name again. Nathaniel Cross. The letters didn't change. They stayed there, black ink on white paper, accusing.
"This is a mistake," Victoria said.
Catherine shook her head. "I thought so too. I ran the numbers three times. They match. Payments to Nathaniel Cross, routed through a shell company in the Caymans. Five hundred thousand dollars a year, every year, for five years."
"Five years," Olivia repeated. "That's before Richard died."
"Long before." Catherine sat back on the couch. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady. "I'm sorry. I know he's your—"
"He's not my anything." Victoria's voice was flat. She set the paper down on the coffee table. "He's my client. That's all."
Catherine looked at her for a long moment. "If that's what you need to tell yourself."
Victoria didn't answer.
---
Olivia picked up the paper. She studied it, her brow furrowed.
"This doesn't make sense," Olivia said. "I've seen Richard's files. Every transaction. Every payment. I never saw anything linking Nathaniel to Webb."
"Richard hid it," Catherine said. "The second list was in a separate encryption. Different password. Different folder. He didn't want anyone to find it."
"Then how did you?"
"I'm married to a man who lies for a living. I learned how to find things people want to hide." Catherine stood up and walked to the window. The White House glowed in the distance. "The question isn't whether Nathaniel took the money. The question is why."
"Blackmail," Victoria said.
"Maybe. Or greed. Or fear. Or all three."
Victoria thought about the past few days. The way Nathaniel had looked at her. The way he'd held her hand. The way he'd said, "I want you, if you'll have me."
Had it all been a lie?
"I need to talk to him," Victoria said.
"Not yet." Catherine turned from the window. "If he's working for Webb, confronting him will get us all killed. If he's not, we need to know who's framing him."
"Framing him?"
"Someone put those payments in Richard's files. Someone wanted them found. The question is who."
Olivia set down the paper. "It could be Vinson."
"Vinson wants Webb in prison," Victoria said. "Why would he frame Nathaniel?"
"To control him. To make him dependent. If Nathaniel thinks he's guilty, he'll do whatever Vinson says to protect himself."
Catherine nodded slowly. "That's possible. Vinson is a strategist. He thinks three moves ahead."
Victoria looked at the paper again. The numbers. The dates. The shell company.
"I need to see the original file," she said. "The one Richard encrypted."
"It's on my laptop," Catherine said. "But the encryption is strong. It took me six hours to break it."
"Then show me what you found."
---
Catherine's laptop was on the desk, the screen glowing.
Victoria sat down and began scrolling through the files. The second list was there, just as Catherine had described. Payments to Nathaniel Cross. Five hundred thousand dollars a year. Every year. For five years.
But something was wrong.
"The dates," Victoria said. "Look at the dates."
Catherine leaned over her shoulder. "What about them?"
"The first payment is dated January 2019. But Nathaniel didn't become CEO of Meridian until June 2019. He couldn't have been taking bribes before he had power."
"Maybe Webb was investing in his future."
"Maybe. But look at this." Victoria pointed to the transaction details. "The payments stopped in 2023. The same year Richard died."
"Why would they stop?"
"Because Richard was dead. Someone didn't need to pay Nathaniel anymore. Or someone wanted to make it look like Nathaniel was no longer useful."
Olivia walked to the desk. "Can you trace the shell company?"
"I can try." Victoria opened a new browser window and began searching. The shell company was registered in the Caymans, a typical offshore account. But there was a name attached to the incorporation documents.
"Cole Vinson."
Victoria stared at the screen.
"Vinson set up the shell company," she said.
Catherine's face went white. "He's been playing us."
"Or he's been playing Nathaniel." Victoria stood up. "We need to get back to the farmhouse. Now."
---
The drive took two hours.
Vinson wasn't answering his phone. Neither was Nathaniel. Olivia tried calling three times, then gave up.
Victoria gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. The black SUV ate up the miles, headlights cutting through the dark.
"What do we do if Vinson is gone?" Olivia asked.
"Then we find Nathaniel. And we find out the truth."
The gravel road to the farmhouse was empty. No lights in the windows. No sign of the black SUV Vinson had been driving.
Victoria parked in the barn and killed the engine.
"Stay behind me," she said.
She pulled out the pepper spray and walked to the farmhouse door.
It was unlocked.
She pushed it open.
The living room was destroyed.
Desks overturned. Papers scattered everywhere. The whiteboard had been ripped off the wall, the names and arrows smeared into oblivion.
And in the corner, tied to a chair, was Nathaniel.
His lip was split. His eye was swollen. His hands were bound behind his back with zip ties.
"Nathaniel," Victoria said.
He looked up at her. His eyes were dazed, but he was conscious.
"Vinson," he said. His voice was hoarse. "He knew. He knew about the second list. He's been working for Webb the whole time."
Victoria knelt beside him and began cutting the zip ties with a knife Olivia handed her.
"What did he want?"
"The files. All of them. He took the drives. He took Olivia's laptop. He took everything."
Victoria freed his hands. Nathaniel winced, rubbing his wrists.
"We need to go," Victoria said. "Now."
"Where?"
"Anywhere Vinson isn't."
---
They ran to the SUV.
Victoria drove. Nathaniel sat in the passenger seat, his face bruised, his hands shaking. Olivia sat in the back, her laptop bag empty, her eyes hollow.
"He knew everything," Nathaniel said again. "He knew about the farmhouse. He knew about Catherine. He knew about the second list."
"He set up the shell company," Victoria said. "I found his name on the incorporation documents."
Nathaniel closed his eyes. "I should have seen it. He was too helpful. Too eager. I should have known."
"You didn't know."
"I should have."
Victoria reached over and took his hand. His fingers were cold.
"We're going to fix this," she said.
"How?"
"We find Catherine. We tell her what happened. We start over."
"Start over? We have nothing. No files. No evidence. No leverage."
"We have each other."
Nathaniel looked at her. His eyes were wet.
"That's not enough," he said.
"Then we make it enough."
---
They drove through the night, heading back to D.C.
Victoria's phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
"The files are gone. But I still have the flash drive you gave me. Meet me at the museum. Same bench. Dawn."
Catherine.
Victoria showed Nathaniel the message.
"It could be a trap," he said.
"Everything is a trap. But she's all we have left."
They drove on.
The sky was starting to lighten when they reached the National Gallery. Victoria parked on the street and walked to the East Building alone.
The bench near the Calder mobile was empty.
She sat down and waited.
Five minutes. Ten.
Catherine appeared from behind a pillar. Her face was pale, her eyes red.
"Vinson called me," Catherine said. "He said he has the files. He said he's giving them to Webb."
"Can you stop him?"
"I can try. But I need your help."
"What kind of help?"
Catherine pulled an envelope from her tote bag and handed it to Victoria.
"Inside is a name. The one person Webb is afraid of. If we can get to him before Vinson does, we might still win."
Victoria opened the envelope.
A photograph. A man in his sixties, gray hair, kind eyes.
"Judge Franklin Cross," the caption read. "Nathaniel's father."