Chapter 6: The Drive
Marcus kept the drive in a hollowed-out textbook on the shelf above his desk.
He'd chosen *Introduction to Business Law*, which under different circumstances might have been funny.
He handed it to me without being asked.
I turned it over in my hands.
Small.
Unremarkable.
The kind of thing you'd pass over a hundred times without a second thought.
"How much is on here?" I asked.
"Two years of records.
Maybe more.
I grabbed everything I could access before I left." He sat on the edge of his bed.
"There are names on there, sis.
Real names.
Not just Voss."
"How many?"
"I don't know exactly.
I didn't open most of it.
I was scared to."
Paul was standing in the doorway.
"You need someone who knows what they're looking at.
Financial crimes, money laundering — that's federal territory.
You go to the wrong person with this, it disappears."
"Do you know the right person?"
"I know someone who used to work financial crimes for the FBI.
She's private now, but she still has contacts." He paused.
"She'll want to see the drive before she agrees to anything."
"Can you reach her tonight?"
"I can try."
While Paul stepped out to make the call, I sat next to Marcus on the bed.
Our mom's apartment was two floors below us.
She thought Marcus was helping a friend move tonight.
She thought I was covering a late shift.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.
He picked at the edge of his sleeve.
"Because you already carry everything.
School, work, money.
Mom." He glanced at me.
"I didn't want to be another thing you had to fix."
"You're not a thing I have to fix.
You're my brother."
He didn't say anything.
But some of the tension went out of his shoulders.
"The job," I said.
"How did you end up working for Voss in the first place?"
"A guy I knew from school said there was easy money doing data entry for a logistics company.
It was legitimate for the first couple weeks.
Then I started noticing things that didn't add up.
Invoices for shipments that didn't exist.
Payments to companies I couldn't find any record of online." He shook his head.
"I should have quit right then."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I needed the money.
Same reason you waitress at a place where people treat you like furniture." He looked at me directly.
"We're always one bad month from losing the apartment.
You know that.
I know that.
I thought if I could just save enough to get ahead — "
Paul came back in.
"She'll meet us.
Tomorrow morning, seven a.m.
Her office." He held up his phone.
"She said don't plug that drive into anything until she's looked at it."
I set the drive on the nightstand.
"Okay."
"There's something else." Paul's voice shifted slightly.
"I did some digging on Voss while you were in there.
He's not just laundering money.
There's a pattern in the civil filings — three different former employees, all of them dropped their cases within weeks of filing.
One of them moved out of state.
One stopped responding to her own attorney."
The room was quiet.
"He does this," I said.
It wasn't a question.
"He finds people who know too much and he applies pressure until they go away.
The dine-and-dash, the photograph, the note — that's his opening move.
Soft enough that you can't prove anything.
Hard enough that most people fold."
Marcus was staring at the drive on the nightstand.
"He thought I'd be like the others," I said.
"He still does," Paul said.
"Which is the only advantage you have right now."
I picked up the drive and held it.
Voss had forty-eight hours on his clock.
May you like
I had the same forty-eight hours on mine.
The difference was what we were each planning to do with them.
