Page 118 of Keller

Was any of it real?

"Keller." Ridge's voice cuts through, sharper this time. I look up and see all of them are watching me.

"I'm listening."

Ridge doesn’t press me further. Whatever he reads in my face, he shelves it for later. His attention shifts to Wells.

“What are our options?” he asks evenly. “How do we contain this before it turns into something public?”

Wells rotates his laptop so the screen faces both of us, a clean grid of timelines and internal compliance markers replacing whatever he had up before.

“There are three immediate paths,” he says. “First, preemptive document production. We assemble our October compliance materials and voluntarily provide a controlled package before any formal request is served. That signals cooperation and narrows their ability to frame this as obstruction.”

Ridge nods once. “Next.”

“Second, we initiate our own internal audit. Bring in an outside firm with credibility and have them review the routing decisions and override authority during that window. If there’s anything problematic, we find it first. That allows us to shape the narrative instead of reacting to theirs.”

“And the third?”

“Scope management,” Wells replies. “We lean on our relationships to keep this administrative rather than criminal. These inquiries expand or stall depending on how much momentum they get. We can influence how much oxygen this receives.”

Ridge studies him for a moment. “And if momentum builds anyway? Because I'm not a patient man.”

Vin doesn’t hesitate. “Then we identify pressure points.”

“In what sense?” Ridge asks.

“In whatever sense proves efficient. Upstream supervisors, budget approvals, career trajectories. An inquiry can slow considerably if the people driving it decide their attention is better spent elsewhere. If you know what I mean.”

The room stills. Nothing in Vin's tone is overtly threatening, but the implication hangs there, deliberate and unspoken.

Ridge’s expression remains neutral as he absorbs it all.

“I want every path mapped,” he says finally. “Cooperative on the surface. Strategic underneath. We start with Plan A, but we keep a Plan B locked and loaded.”

Wells nods and begins typing again, the quiet tap of keys the only sound in the room.

"Pull everything we have on this Mercer agent. She's our first pressure point. If her report changes, this dies before it ever takes its first breath."

The name lands in the room like a dropped blade.

Wells hesitates. "Parameters?"

"Background. Employment history. Prior casework. Known associations." Ridge pauses. "Everything."

I excuse myself, needing some air. I slip out while Rhodes is talking about something I don't even bother to pay attention to.

I step into the elevator and press the close door button before the floor, because I don't even know where I'm going. I just had to get out of there.

My reflection stares back at me from the polished steel. The man in the mirror looks different than this morning. Something around the eyes has hardened.

Finally, I push the lobby button. Fuck it, I'm leaving. The elevator begins its descent.

My mind arranges the pieces and tries to slot them into place.

My mother. Savannah. Charlton Grant. The hotel receipts and the photographs in the box.

And now Quinn.