Evidence that someone had been living in that warehouse recently. A laptop, burner phones, documents spread across a makeshift desk.
Russo was analyzing everything now. But I had a sick feeling I knew what we'd find.
I'd been driving back to the penthouse to review Russo's findings when I'd realized I needed something from this room. The original files on Vincent's associates—the ones I'd compiled before putting it in digital form.There was a connection I'd missed, something that would tie Lorenzo and Isabella together properly.
I'd let myself into the house quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. It was past midnight. I'd climbed the stairs to the third floor, entered my private room, and immediately known something was wrong.
The photo on my desk had been moved. Just slightly, but enou
