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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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a plan. A structure. Damage control. Something. He knew that too. But asking would have required him to stand below me for one conversation, and Derek would rather commit a felony than do that.

He shifted. “The buyer messaged fast. Too fast. Like he’d been waiting.”

“What did he ask?”

“He wanted extra photos. Wanted to know if the machine still had the continue reading …

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