By the time Damian finished cataloguing the contents of Hartley's folder, the sun had come up over the city, and the conference room that had held so much fear only hours earlier now held nothing but exhausted, methodical work. "It's thorough," Damian said, sliding another page into its evidence sleeve. "Almost obsessively so. Dates, account numbers, the original settlement agreement with Richard Cole's signature, correspondence with the attorney who helped him establish Ashford Meridian Trust. He documented every step of this for twenty years, as though part of him always intended for it to be found." Reyes, still in the same clothes she'd worn since the night before, nodded slowly. "That's not unusual, in my experience. People who spend that long building a case against someone else, even a case built on real grievance, often want it understood as much as executed. He wasn't only trying to win. He wanted to be believed." "Does the confession hold up?" Adrian asked. He sat across
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