Brooke looked toward the dark backyard.
“Someone came in while we were upstairs.”
Julian studied the footprints.
“They’re too clean.”
“What does that mean?”
He touched one.
The mud smeared like paint.
“Printed,” he said. “Placed.”
I locked the back door.
The envelope remained on the counter.
05:31.
I tore it open.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Ava and Julian entering a hotel room together six months earlier. The image was intimate only because it wanted to be. Her hand rested on his back. His head was turned toward hers.
Behind the photograph was another list.
Friday, 7:30 p.m.—Ava departs.
Friday, 9:10 p.m.—Brooke arrives.
Saturday, 1:00 a.m.—Julian arrives.
Saturday, 1:10 a.m.—Laptop activates.
The final line read:
Saturday, 1:20 a.m.—Decision.
I checked the kitchen clock.
1:17.
The laptop showed 02:42.
The countdown would end at 1:20.
Julian reached for the envelope.
“There has to be more.”
A small black card slipped onto the counter.
One sentence was printed across it.
Choose who leaves with the laptop.
Brooke whispered, “This is a game.”
“No,” Ava said. “It’s a test.”
Julian looked at her.
“You recognize it?”
She nodded slowly.
“Our father used to do this.”
Brooke’s face twisted.
“Dad did not hide laptops and threaten people.”
“Not like this. He used choices.”
“What choices?”
“When I was a child, he would put two envelopes on the table. One had a reward. One had a punishment. He said character was revealed by what people chose when they didn’t know the outcome.”
Brooke stared.
“He never did that to me.”
Ava gave her a broken smile.
“You were his favorite.”
The countdown read 01:44.
Julian picked up the laptop.
“I’ll take it.”
Ava grabbed his sleeve.
“That is what they expect.”
“Someone has to leave with it.”
“No one has to follow instructions.”
01:28.
I looked through the living room window.
The street was empty.
No sedan.
No headlights.
Only rain shining under streetlamps.
01:09.
Brooke moved toward the front door.
“I’ll take it.”
Ava caught her arm.
“No.”
“You involved Daniel. You involved me. Let me fix something.”
“You can’t.”
“Why?”
Ava’s answer came as a whisper.
“Because the list marked you cooperative.”
Brooke stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“It means they already believe you’ll do what they want.”
00:49.
Julian held the laptop tighter.
“Then I’m the least predictable choice.”
“You’re on the list too,” I said.
“Everyone is.”
“My name had a question mark.”
Ava looked at me.
“That’s why you can’t take it.”
“Why not?”
“Because this whole thing may be designed to find out what you’ll do.”
00:26.
I took the laptop from Julian.
The numbers filled the screen.
00:20.
Ava grabbed my hand.
“Ryan, please.”
For the first time all night, she said my name with a softness I remembered from before everything went bad.
That made it harder.
Not easier.
“You chose me as bait,” I said.
Tears filled her eyes.
“I chose the only person I thought would survive.”
00:10.
The laptop emitted a sharp tone.
00:09.
Brooke stepped away from the door.
00:08.
Julian reached toward the screen.
00:07.
Ava held my arm.
00:06.
I placed the laptop on the kitchen floor.
00:05.
Then I covered it with the heavy cast-iron lid from our Dutch oven.
00:04.
Julian stared.
00:03.
I stepped back.
00:02.
Ava closed her eyes.
00:01.
The countdown ended.
Nothing happened.
The house remained silent.
The rain continued.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then every light went out.
Brooke screamed.
The refrigerator stopped humming.
The porch light vanished.
Darkness swallowed the house.
A second later, the laptop screen glowed beneath the iron lid.
A voice came from its speakers.
“Decision recorded.”
Ava gripped my shoulder.
The voice continued.
“Ryan chose containment.”
The laptop went silent.
The lights returned.
Julian removed the lid.
The screen displayed a live video feed.
A man sat behind a desk in a room I did not recognize. His face was hidden in shadow. Behind him, an American flag stood beside a window, and a silver ring flashed on his hand when he folded his fingers together.
“Good evening, Ryan,” he said.
My skin turned cold.
The voice was not distorted.
It was calm, educated, older.
“You have spent the last several hours learning that your marriage was built beside secrets neither you nor your wife understood.”
Ava moved toward the laptop.
“Who are you?”
The man ignored her.
“You were presented with evidence of infidelity, fraud, coercion, surveillance, and possible violence.”
Julian leaned closer.
“Where is the original laptop?”
The man smiled faintly.
“You still believe there is an original.”
The image shifted.
A file directory appeared.
Hundreds of folders covered the screen.
Each carried a name.
Some I recognized immediately.
Executives from my company.
A county commissioner.
A local judge.
Two police officers.
Julian’s employer.
Ava’s father.
My own name.
The folder bearing my name opened.
Inside were photographs taken throughout my life.
College graduation.
My first job.
My wedding.
The day Ava and I bought the house.
Images no stranger should have possessed.
The man spoke again.
“You were not selected because of what you did.”
A document appeared.
It was the compliance report I had submitted six weeks earlier about the suspicious consulting companies.
“You were selected because of what you noticed.”
I stared at the screen.
“You could have contacted me directly.”
“We did.”
“When?”
“The first warning appeared in your wife’s suitcase.”