Maya looked through the glass toward the hallway where Isaiah was resting. "I knew he'd come after whatever he couldn't erase."
The specialist opened an index file attached to the USB archive. One name appeared beside several export dates: Michael Turner, former communications contractor.
Paul straightened. "There he is."
Karen looked at him. "The same Turner from the closed complaint?"
"Yes."
The room's focus shifted immediately: the files were damaging, but Harland's attorney could still claim they had been fabricated, altered, or assembled by someone with a grudge. They needed the person who created the copy—someone who could explain where the material came from, how it was obtained, and why it existed before Isaiah ever touched the drive.
Paul picked up his phone. "Get me everything current on Michael Turner: address, employment, attorney if he has one. Nobody contacts him until we know who else is looking."
Across the hospital, Thomas Keller received an electronic filing from Harland's counsel challenging the authenticity of the black USB and demanding that all conclusions drawn from it be suspended pending independent verification.
Paul's phone vibrated with the notice minutes later. He read it once and handed the screen to Karen.
Maya did not need to see it. "What did he challenge?"
"The entire drive."
Maya looked at Michael Turner's name on the monitor: Harland understood the same thing they did—finding the evidence had not ended the fight; now they had to prove the evidence had existed before anyone had reason to invent it.
Paul did not contact Michael Turner the moment the address appeared on his screen. Instead, he asked the state legal team to verify the information through two independent records and determine whether Turner had retained counsel during his earlier dispute with the city. If Harland was already looking for the same man, an unexpected visit from investigators could frighten Turner into disappearing again.
The first address belonged to an apartment Turner had left almost a year earlier. The second led to a small telecommunications repair company on the west side of Baltimore, where Turner now worked as a systems consultant. His name appeared nowhere on the company website, but payroll and licensing records confirmed that he was there.
Paul made the call through an attorney. Less than an hour later, the answer came back: Turner would speak, but only with counsel present and only at a neutral location.
Maya received the update in the hospital conference room. She had remained outside direct evidence operations, just as she had agreed, while Isaiah rested under observation several floors away.
"Is he coming here?" she asked.
Paul shook his head. "His attorney won't allow it. They want the state administrative office downtown."
"That's smarter."
"You're not coming."
Maya looked at him. "I know."
Paul softened his voice. "I didn't mean it that way."
"You meant exactly what you said, and you're right." She glanced at the cold coffee still sitting near the edge of the table. "If Turner authenticates that drive, Harland needs to have no argument that I influenced him."
Paul nodded. "I'll call you when counsel clears an update."
Michael Turner arrived wearing a charcoal work jacket over a button-down shirt, carrying nothing except his phone and a thin folder. At 46, he had the guarded manner of someone who had spent enough time around institutions to stop believing that official titles automatically meant safety. His attorney, Susan Bell, sat beside him.
Paul introduced himself and the independent digital forensic specialist. He deliberately did not begin with accusations.
"Mr. Turner, we recovered a black USB storage device earlier tonight. Your name appears in an index file associated with the material. Before I show you anything, I need to know whether you created such a device."
Turner did not answer immediately. He looked at Bell; she nodded once. "Yes."
Paul kept his expression neutral. "When?"