Chapter 8: Everything on the Table
They filed at 2:47 in the afternoon.
Garrett submitted the full package to the financial crimes unit — the transfer records, Nora's documentation, the shell account routing, the signature analysis report from a forensic accountant he had retained two days earlier without telling Logan, and a sworn statement from Logan's father detailing the timeline of his discovery.
Logan sat in the waiting area of the law firm while it happened.
He didn't pace.
He sat in a chair by the window and watched the traffic on Market Street and thought about his mother's photograph on the wall of that small office on Clement Street.
His phone showed three missed calls from Marcus.
He didn't return them.
At 4:15, Garrett came out of the conference room.
"It's filed."
"What happens now?"
"Now we wait for them to review the package and determine whether to open a formal investigation.
Given the volume and quality of what Nora documented, Garrett expects that decision within forty-eight hours." He sat down across from Logan.
"In the meantime, Marcus will be aware that something has moved.
He may try to contact your father directly."
"My father knows not to engage."
"Good."
Logan looked at him.
"What about Cara?"
"The transfer to her account is part of the filing.
She'll be a person of interest." Garrett folded his hands.
"She's also still in a position to press the assault charges from last night.
That hasn't changed."
"I know."
"Logan—"
"I know." Logan looked out the window.
"I put her through a table.
Whatever she did, whatever she was, I did that.
Those are two separate things."
Garrett was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Her attorney called my office this morning."
Logan turned.
"She wants to negotiate.
Drop the charges in exchange for immunity from the financial investigation." Garrett watched Logan's face carefully.
"She says she has recorded conversations.
Between herself and Marcus.
She says she was coerced into the arrangement and that she has documentation to prove it."
The afternoon light was long and flat across the floor.
"Do you believe her?" Logan asked.
"It doesn't matter what I believe.
It matters what she can prove." Garrett paused.
"If her recordings are genuine, they may be the most direct evidence we have against Marcus.
His voice.
His instructions.
His plan."
"And in exchange she walks."
"In exchange the charges against her are reduced significantly.
She doesn't walk entirely." Garrett looked at him steadily.
"This is your decision to make.
Not mine.
Not your father's."
Logan thought about the three years.
The dinner where Marcus had introduced them.
The way she had always known the right question to ask after a difficult meeting.
The way she had laughed at his father's jokes while, somewhere in the background, the money was moving.
He thought about her lying in the broken glass, whispering *you did this.*
She wasn't wrong about that part.
"Tell her attorney yes," Logan said.
"Conditional on the recordings being verified."
Garrett nodded.
He stood.
"One more thing," Logan said.
"Marcus called this afternoon and I didn't answer.
What does he do next?"
Garrett picked up his briefcase.
"Men like Marcus, when they realize the walls are closing — they don't go quietly." He paused at the door.
"Make sure your father's location stays private tonight."
He left.
Logan sat alone in the waiting area for another minute.
Then he called his father.
The phone rang twice.
"Logan."
"Are you somewhere safe?"
"Yes.
Garrett's colleague has a guest room.
It's fine." A pause.
"Is it done?"
"It's filed."
His father was quiet for a moment.
When he spoke again his voice was careful and steady, the same voice he'd used in the elevator doorway.
"What happens now?"
"Now Marcus finds out he's out of time."
Another pause.
Longer.
"Logan." His father's voice shifted — something underneath the steadiness, something that had been held back for a long time.
"I should have come to you.
Eight months ago, when I found the first record.
I should have sat down across from you and asked you directly."
"Dad—"
"I let my fear make the decision.
And it cost us both a great deal." A breath.
"I'm sorry for that."
Logan pressed the phone against his ear.
Outside, the traffic moved.
Somewhere a bus hissed to a stop.
"We'll talk about it properly," Logan said.
"When this is over."
May you like
"Yes," his father said.
"We will."
