“That photograph was taken today,” Cloe said. “Someone was watching the coffee shop.”
Mac was already on the phone. She heard him give two instructions, sharp and clipped, before he ended the call and looked at her with an expression she had not seen on him before. Not anger. Something more focused than anger. The look of a man who had just understood the full shape of what he was dealing with and had stopped being surprised by any of it.
“Sandra had someone outside,” he said. “She knew about Peter. She knew I had the folder. She was already moving.”
“The article.” Cloe picked up his phone and read it properly. Forty words. No quotes. No named sources. Just enough to plant the idea, to put his name next to the word investigation in a sentence that a casual reader would remember even aft
