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My brother actually laughed at dinner and said, ‘I sold that useless laptop of yours for five hundred bucks. Finally got rid of your junk.’ My cousins cheered him on. Then he added, almost proudly, ‘Already handed it off to the buyer.’ I got up, stepped outside, and called my supervisor. By the time I made the report, the FBI cyber team was already tracking the device…

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references you directly. We need to know whether Derek ever discussed your apartment setup or work routine outside the listing.”

My grip tightened. “Did he?”

“That,” Thompson said, “is exactly the question.”

By evening, the request was formal.

Derek wanted to see me.

Not our parents. Not Rachel.

Me.

I stood in my kitchen looking at the visitation form while continue reading …

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