“No.”
“Escrow?”
“Possibly.”
“Political fund?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you photograph the ledger?”
“Yes.”
“Where are the images?”
Liam hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
“You destroyed them.”
“No.”
“Then where are they?”
“I sent them to you.”
I stared at him.
The heart monitor beside my bed accelerated.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“That is impossible.”
“I mailed them.”
“You mailed financial records?”
“Not to your house.”
My confusion deepened.
“To your office.”
I shook my head.
“I never received them.”
“I know.”
“How could you know?”
Liam looked sick.
“Because two weeks later, Dad’s attorney called me.”
I felt cold despite the blanket.
“Mr. Halpern?”
“Yes.”
“He said the envelope had been delivered to the wrong place.”
“Where?”
Liam’s eyes met mine.
“Apex Development.”
Everything in the room stopped.
Eight years ago, Apex had been operating from a cramped second-floor office above a printing company.
