Page 116 of Fatal Pattern

“Am I?” Barclay’s smile widened. “Right now, there’s a data packet sitting in a buffer, waiting for my heartbeat to stop. The moment I die, it uploads to a DOJ server. Kiara Kerns becomes the architect of a massive conspiracy and cover-up.”

Tori saw it all in Blade’s expression. The anger at being trapped. The devastation of watching someone innocent get destroyed. The terrible calculation of a man who’d spent his life protecting people, now forced to choose between them.

“I’m the only one with the abort code,” Barclay continued. “Kill me, and she goes to federal prison for the rest of her life. But cooperate, and maybe we can work something out.”

Stryker’s head lolled forward, and Tori’s chest tightened. Even unconscious, he was running out of time.

Barclay’s attention shifted to Tori. The gun never moved from Stryker’s temple, but his focus became a weapon all its own.

“You’re still chasing ghosts, aren’t you, Victoria?” The name rolled off his tongue like poison. “Worried about poor Jeremy Hoult?”

He said the name with a sneer that made it sound like Jeremy was something he’d just scraped off his shoe.

“Or should I call him Nikos Jr.?”

Her grip tightened on the Glock. “Hoult isn’t my brother. The DNA test will prove that.” Had to prove that.

“Maybe not, but he’ll go down as the . . . what did you call him? Mandelbrot Killer?” Barclay smiled. “I do like that name. Poor Jeremy was just a kid needing a mentor. A mentally unstable man who became obsessed with a woman who’d interviewed him years ago, then convinced himself he was her long-lost twin brother.”

Tori’s stomach dropped. The confession in the interrogation room. Hoult’s detailed knowledge of her childhood, the purple pajamas, the shared bedroom. “You fed him information about me.”

“The beauty of it is how believable it all sounds,” Barclay went on. “A man who used art therapy to restrain his urges to kill finally breaks free and comes looking for his sister. When she rejects him, he snaps. Starts killing people connected to the investigation into their parents’ murders.”

Her hands trembled. The narrative was airtight. Hoult’s obsession with her was real—that part didn’t need fabrication. His mental instability was documented. His presence at her house, the attacks on her and Blade, all of it would support Barclay’s story.

Tori’s heart pounded so hard her chest started to hurt. All she could do was shake her head.

“Even you believed him.” Barclay’s smile turned vicious. “So desperate for a brother, you opened the door and let the monster right in.”

“He is not my brother!” The words tore from her. “You just twisted him into thinking he is.”

Barclay wobbled his head side to side. “Maybe, maybe not. His DNA might not match yours, but it will match what’s found at the crime scenes.”

“No.” Tori snapped the word. “No one will believe you. You manipulated Jeremy, just like you manipulated the narrative around my parents’ murders. Nikos didn’t kill them. You did.”

The words hit their mark. Barclay’s perfect control cracked like glass under pressure. His face contorted, the mask of calm authority replaced by something raw and ugly.

“Of course he didn’t do it!” The roar tore from his throat, rage pouring out like blood from a severed artery. “A terrified boy with a kitchen knife was a gift! A perfect frame for a job that needed to be done right!”

“You butchered them and shattered two kids’ lives. Framed one. Shoved me into the system like trash.”

Tori advanced, two steady strides, Glock locked on his forehead. “Keep spinning lies. It doesn’t matter. We’ve got the evidence that nails you clean.”

“It’s your mother’s fault. She discovered the pattern. Figured out that the Mandelbrot set was the key to regenerative cardiac tissue. The future of organ transplantation. Her research was worth millions!” Fury burned in Barclay’s eyes. “She could’ve been rich beyond imagination, but she wanted to publish it. Give it away to the world.”

Her stomach hollowed. Her parents were tangled in something bigger than anything she’d ever let herself picture.

“Ji-Yeon forced my hand,” Barclay continued. “I gave her multiple opportunities to fall in line. But Nikos convinced her to go public. So I did what had to be done.”

The room fell silent except for her own labored breathing and the echo of Barclay’s words. Her parents’ murders laid bare.

Bootsteps hammered through the building. More than one set locking in rhythm.

“I heard every word, Dean. It’s over.”

Tori recognized that voice. Special Agent in Charge Sebastian Wells.

They’d done it. Wells had heard everything. Barclay’s confession, his threats against Kiara, his orchestration of decades of corruption. All of it.