Page 83 of The Enforcer’s Pawn

“Boring is useful,” I say, leaning toward the screen. “People trust dull systems. They stop checking the corners.”

Halden Rowe did vendor reviews for a Boston charity processor a year ago. The processor later appears inside Morozov’s humanitarian network under a new name, then again under another one.

Evan’s credentials touched review windows, payment holds, flagged batches, staff assignments, and maintenance dates. None of it looks dramatic. That’s why it works. I hate how easily I can think like Patrick. A normal person would see date ranges, account teams, flagged payments, and notes about system downtime. Patrick would see a map. He’d know who touched what, which clerk stayed late, which batch froze, and which woman might talk in a kitchen while her boyfriend felt useful.

My fingers slow over the keys. Kathryn’s kitchen rises in my head. The chipped mug by the sink. Pasta steam on the window. Mikhail’s cartoon playing in the living room. Toy cars near the rug. The blue lunchbox by the door.

Evan leans against the counter in my memory with his easy, forgettable smile, and my stomach turns hard.

Patrick didn’t break through my wall. He walked in through a man who wanted to feel important.

Yuri leans forward. “Recovered fragment from Patrick to Evan.”

“Put it up,” I say.

The message appears in a plain gray box.

Tell K she worries so much. You’re the only one who gets her to relax.

My hands stop over the keyboard.

Yuri scrolls to the next fragment.

Cara always thinks she’s in a spy film.

My mouth goes dry. Evan worked at Halden Rowe. Halden Rowe handled money for a charity processor. That processor later became part of Morozov’s humanitarian network. Patrick looked into Evan’s private life and found Kathryn. After that, he found her preschool. Mikhail spends his mornings at that same school.

Evan wasn’t only useful for finance. He was useful because he stood near my son.

“Water,” I say.

Yuri starts to rise.

Dmitri stops him with one look. “Sergei.”

Sergei steps out.

I keep my attention on the screen. If I turn my head, the room might move with me. My head feels blank. My hands don’t feel like mine.

Dmitri says my name once. “Cara.”

“Don’t,” I say.

He stops. His hand doesn’t touch my shoulder. His voice doesn’t turn into another question. He knows I’m hiding something, but he doesn’t force it out of me. That is harder than pressure. I don’t know what to do with a man who stops when I ask him to.

Sergei returns with a glass of water and sets it beside my left hand. “Miss O’Connell.”

“Thanks,” I say, and my voice comes back thin.

Panic can have me later. Right now, panic can sit down and hold a pencil.

I drink, set the glass down, and drag the file list back into order. “Search Halden Rowe vendor reviews against Morozov-linked medical shipments. Use Evan’s access windows.”

Yuri turns back to his monitor. “Running.”

The search moves through names and numbers. I draw two columns on a legal pad. Evan’s work access goes on one side, and Kathryn’s life goes on the other. Dates start matching. Neighborhoods repeat. Evan’s work files and Kathryn’s daily routine begin showing up near the same places. He could hear something at Kathryn’s kitchen table, then use his job to check it later.

Evan heard pieces at home. Patrick gave him work reasons to search for them.