Page 61 of Deadly Force

I flip through slowly.

A brochure for Sonora's green energy initiative sits on top. Sleek design, full of buzzwords. Beneath that, a stack of mileage reimbursement forms and lunch receipts. Her class schedule. A copy of her resume with Sustainability Intern, Sonora Investments highlighted. Notes from a seminar on ethical engineering practices, most of them underlined in neat handwriting. A paper draft titled Public-Private Partnerships in Campus Infrastructure.

Standard. Polished. Harmless.

Then halfway through, the language shifts.

No mention of Sonora. No logos. Just a clean, clinical line buried in the middle of a data table, easy to miss if you weren't looking.

Post-procedural assessment: no documentation of fetal viability.

I blink. Read it again.

The words don't belong. Not with environmental research. Not with anything a college student shouldbe near, much less hiding. But there it is. Sitting on the page like a landmine disguised as a line item.

I tap the sentence. "This mean what I think it means?"

Brooke's voice is flat. "We need to search her apartment."

I nod, already reaching for my phone. "Yeah. Before someone else gets there first."

FIFTEEN

Brooke

While I process what this new information means, Caleb calls Reese and tells him to check if one of Eliza’s neighbors might have a spare key.

It’s a long shot, the police will have sealed off her apartment, but still, we have try.

My head is buzzing, and it’s not the caffeine. Eliza was smart. Really smart. She must’ve been using the folder at school and at work, hiding it in plain sight. If anyone had looked inside, they would’ve seen exactly what she wanted them to see.

And I almost missed it. If Caleb hadn’t confined me to Mateo’s room, I wouldn’t have discovered the three other pages tucked in the back, each with graphs, data, and medical language that doesn’t fit with Sonora or her coursework.

"I want to talk to the medical examiner," I say. “See if they’ll give up details on her death.”

Caleb looks over, brow furrowed. "You really think they'll tell you anything?"

"If it's Dr. Ruiz, maybe." The name brings back memories of late-night phone calls and hushed conversations in hospital corridors.

I pull out my phone. "Let me call and see if she’s available," I say.

After an endless amount of time waiting for the phone to be answered, I get put on hold, passed to three different departments, endure a tinny loop of hold music until I finally get an answer: “She’s in court giving testimony until five.”

I relay the information to Caleb and he seems relieved.

“We visit her then. Sam and Reese should be back,” he says.

I twist my mouth to one side. “Or we gonow. Her office will be empty,” I say. “We can sneak in through the rear entrance. I’ve done it before.”

He exhales, glances toward the door, then back at me. “We’re not sneaking around a government building.”

“We’re not stealing anything. Just looking in her office to see if she performed the autopsy.”

“That still gets us flagged if we’re seen. Cameras, sign-in logs, access restrictions?—”

“Then we don’t get seen,” I say.

Caleb's eyes sharpen, and I can see him already running through possibilities. "If we get caught, this isn't just trespassing. This is breaking into a government building. Tampering with evidence."