Page 112 of Split Decision

I think about the sedan. The dark car idling at the curb outside the gym, months ago, that I noticed and filed, and never found an explanation for.

"Someone's been watching a long time," I say.

"Yes." Andi looks at the table. "I think they've been waiting for us to be ready."

The house is quiet around us. Outside, Atlanta does what it does on a late July morning—the sprinklers, the neighbor's dog, all of it completely ordinary in a way that feels strange now. Someone was in this house. Someone who is connected to a woman who has been running operations against the people I love since before I knew their names.

I reach across the table and cover Andi's hand with mine.

She turns her hand over and holds on.

"Tomorrow," she says. "We're going to see Bill tomorrow."

"Together," I say.

She looks at me. "Together."

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ANDI

We go to talk to Bill together the next morning.

Luke drives. I have the folder with the photographs—the board communication analysis, the Katelyn donor list connection, and the notes from yesterday's break-in. The documents themselves are already in Bill's office. What I'm bringing now is everything that happened after I left.

Bill's assistant waves us straight through when we arrive, which means he's been expecting this too.

He looks at Luke when we walk in—not with surprise, but with the discerning look of someone who has beenworking on a case alone with one person and is now receiving the complete picture. He stands and shakes Luke's hand.

"Luke Woods," he says. “Good to meet you.”

"You too, Bill." Luke sits in the chair beside me rather than behind me, which is where I'd half-expected him to position himself. Side by side. That's what we are now.

Bill sits back down. "Tell me what happened after you left yesterday."

I tell him about the break-in. The back door, the study, and the laptop were moved and replaced at a slightly different angle. Nothing taken. Professional entry.

He listens without writing anything down, which is what he does when he's mapping rather than recording.

"When did you leave the house yesterday morning?" he asks when I finish.

"Eight-fifteen. I came straight to you."

"And the break-in was discovered when you came home? When was that?"

"Early afternoon."

He nods slowly. "So the window was roughly six hours. Professional entry, assessment only, clean exit." He picks up his pen. "This is not someone acting desperately. Thisis someone who sent a resource to establish what you have."

"That's what I thought," I say.

"She knows you have her name," Bill says. "The board communication language you brought me in June—specific phrasing, specific framing that tracks back to conversations between the two of you. She's been informed. Someone in your circle has been feeding her." He looks at me directly. "What she doesn't know is whether you have documentation. If she knew about Daniel's package, she wouldn't have sent someone to look—she'd have moved differently."

"She thinks we're working on pattern and inference," Luke says. "Not documents."

"Yes. Which gives you a window." Bill sets the pen down. "A short one. When she concludes you can't produce documentation, the operation shifts. She repositions. Everything you've built becomes harder to act on."

"How long?" Luke asks.