Locke and I spin around together. Dad is leaning casually against the doorframe, coffee mug in one hand, studying the hurricane we've created out of his office with the expression of a man who's trying very hard not to smile.
"...or you've found something that I’m really not gonna like."
For a second, neither of us says anything, then Locke looks at me. A silent invitation:
Your discovery, baby. You explain it.
I take a slow breath. "Dad..."
He straightens immediately. "What is it, sweetheart?"
I walk over to the whiteboard, picking up the marker that Locke abandoned a few minutes ago. "We've been looking at the shell companies all wrong."
Cobra's eyebrows knit together. "How so?"
"Because they're not the operation.” I draw a line beneath the dates. “They're camouflage."
“What?” D
