Evan Burns Files

Evan Rusk burned paper the old-fashioned way because electronic destruction left logs.

He used the maintenance incinerator behind a closed Kind Harbor satellite office and wore gloves too thin for the heat. He had never liked the smell of burning charts. It was too intimate, like destroying a person in slices.

Petra Voss stood several feet away, coat buttoned, face lit by flames.

"You were told to hold routine billing duplicates only," she said.

"And now the police have Greyhaven drives."

"Because you hire nervous men."

"Because Judith keeps choosing public theater."

Petra's eyes flicked up.

Evan regretted the sentence as soon as it left him. Everyone complained about Judith. Only idiots did it where someone might benefit from remembering.

Petra held out her hand. "Give me the Marlow packet."

"No."

"Evan."

"I need insurance."

She smiled. "Poor word choice."

He backed away from the incinerator. In his briefcase was Daniel's original signed intake, Nora's forged witness page, and the work order for the oxygen visit. Enough to ruin him. Enough, he hoped, to keep him alive.

From the alley came a metallic clatter.

Evan turned.

Nora Vale stood behind the chain-link gate, phone raised, recording through the gap.

For one second nobody moved.

Then Petra said, calmly, "Take her phone."

Nora ran.

Evan reached the gate first, but she slammed it into his shoulder. He shouted. Petra did not chase; she pulled out her own phone and made a call.

Nora sprinted toward the street with smoke in her throat and the video uploading to every address Brooke had made her memorize.

A car screeched beside her.

The back door opened.

Cal Reed leaned across the seat. "Get in if you want to leave with that phone."

Nora kept running.

Behind her, Evan shouted her name, but he sounded farther away than the upload bar on her screen. The video mattered now. Her breath could catch up later.