“And you refused?” I asked.
“I told him I needed time.”
“That is not the same as refusing.”
“No,” she admitted. “It isn’t.”
A security manager opened the doors before I could respond. His name was Mr. Albright, and he had the strained politeness of a man whose morning had become legally inconvenient. He led us through a quiet lobby and down a corridor where every footstep echoed.
“The affected materials were moved to a drying room,” he explained. “We followed preservation protocol.”
Daniel’s voice was cool. “Who accessed the Whitaker Holdings unit yesterday?”
Mr. Albright hesitated. “I’ll provide the access logs to the examiner.”
“Now,” Daniel said.
The manager’s smile faded.
He handed over a printed sheet.
Daniel read it first. Then Priya. Then he passed it to me.
My eyes found the names.
Jason Mitchell: 4:42 p.m.
Evelyn Mitchell: 5:16 p.m.
Unknown authorized guest: 5:19 p.m.
