The badge log was still in her hands. She read Philip's name and the timestamp again, the way you read something a third time hoping the numbers will rearrange themselves into something less consequential. They didn't.
She didn't leave it on her desk. That was the first decision — not a calculated one exactly, more an instinct arriving before she'd thought it through, her hand sliding the page into her bag the way you move something valuable before you've identified it as such. Whatever this was, it wasn't something she wanted sitting face-up on a surface anyone could walk past.
She was in James's office ten minutes later, the door closed behind her, the page on the desk between them.
James studied it without touching it at first, reading it from where it lay. Then he picked it up, and
