Nolan was quiet for a moment. Outside a wave broke against the rocks below the property, the sound of it reaching us through the glass — heavy and final, the ocean making its point the way it always does, without particular interest in whether anyone is listening.
Then Nolan Calloway reached across the desk and picked up his phone.
“I’ll call the counsel,” he said.
We were back in the car by nine thirty.
The coast road south was bright now, the morning fully established, the Pacific doing its glittering thing on the left side of the road that it does when the sun gets high enough and the fog burns off. My father was in the back seat again. Sebastian was driving. The USB drive was in my jacket pocket and the silence in the car was entirely different from the silence on the way up — ligh
