Matteo opened the folder wider.
The enlarged photograph showed the bonds spread across a faded motel bedspread.
Their serial numbers were visible beneath the edge of Chloe Gallagher’s hand.
Sophie kept one finger beside Leo’s handwritten intake date.
The warehouse had become so quiet that she could hear the halogen lamp buzzing above them.
Matteo read the number once.
Then again.
“Explain,” he said.
Leo the Brick recovered quickly.
Men like him survived by turning fear into volume.
“She’s stalling.
Chloe knows we found her, so now she’s pretending to be the sister and feeding us insurance nonsense.”
Sophie lifted the paper cup.
The coffee was bitter and too hot, but the warmth steadied her hands.
“If I were inventing it, I would not know the serial prefix.”
“You could’ve seen the photograph before.”
“I had never seen that photograph before tonight.”
Leo slammed his palm against the table.
“Enough.”
Matteo did not flinch.
Sophie did.
Only slightly, but she saw Leo notice.
His mouth pulled into a satisfied line.
He believed he had finally found the crack in her composure.
Then she placed the coffee down without spilling a drop.
“The series was issued through Lake Michigan Development Trust,” she said.
“The bonds were called early, submitted for redemption, and voided.
Months later, an insured party tried to claim they had been stolen before redemption.
The dates did not align.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
“What insured party?”
“The claim came through a holding company.
I did not know it was connected to you.”
Leo laughed once.
“She expects you to believe she remembers numbers from one claim six months ago?”
“I designed the anomaly model that rejected it.
The duplicated serials were the reason the file reached my desk.”
Sophie looked at Matteo rather than Leo.
“If those are the bonds Chloe took, they were already worthless.
Someone showed you counterfeit or void paper and told you it was worth two million dollars.”
Leo moved around the table.
Matteo raised one finger.
Leo stopped.
It was the smallest command Sophie had ever seen, yet it carried more force than shouting.
Matteo picked up the Zippo and turned it over in his palm.
“My people verified the bonds.”
“Which people?” Sophie asked.
Leo’s jaw tightened.
Matteo noticed.
“You don’t question him,” Leo said.
“I am not questioning him.
I am asking who handed him the information that brought three armed men through my apartment door.”
“You think your job title protects you?”
“No.
Evidence might.”
Leo stepped close enough to block the light.
