Page 96 of Brutal Game

Seized by an idea, I opened the “Taxes” folder.

And there it was, a small subfolder that just said “Asher.”

“That’s it.” I practically choked out the word.

Here it was, my proof, my revenge, my brother’s justice. What’s more, it could mean justice for anyone else the coach had abused—and would prevent him from hurting players in the future.

So then why did the thought of breaking Jack’s heart with the truth make my own hurt?

I steeled myself.

“Jack, come take a look.”

He came around the desk, glancing at the computer.

“What am I looking at?”

“See the name of the subfolder?”

“It’s your brother’s name.” He said it in a blasé way, but his jaw was tight, and his throat worked.

My hand shook. “Can you open it for me? I don’t want to watch the video, I can’t?—”

He nodded. Grateful, I looked away, heard some tapping on the keys, a click on the mouse.

“Aviva, you can turn around,” he said.

I did.

The folder was empty.

Not a single video.

Not a single file.

Jack sounded beyond relieved. “See, I told you there was nothing.”

I stared at it. Yeah, there was no video, but why the hell would there be a subfolder with my brother’s name in the Taxes folder?

“Click on the trash icon,” I told him.

Jack shook his head. “You aren’t going to find anything,Aviva, because there isn’t anything. Coach didn’t do anything wrong.”

God, I wanted to smack him so bad. But I’d probably slapped Jack Feldman enough in one lifetime. I wasn’t sure how many more I would get away with.

“Are you sure about that?” I countered instead. “If there was nothing, why is there a folder with my brother’s name in Jensen’s Taxes folder?”

He sighed.

“Let me text my brother. He’s a hacker.”

Taking out his phone, he sent a quick text. A moment, later, it rang.

“Hey,” he said. Then, “I’ll tell you about it later. Can you—” his throat worked, eyes closing, like the guilt over betraying his coach this way was too much for him. “Can you access a computer remotely? See if you can find deleted files? Probably mp4s? They’d be labeled Asher.” He listened for a moment, then said, “Yeah, it has to do with her.”

A moment later, he hung up. “He’s working on it,” he said, but refused to look at me.

We waited for what seemed like forever, not speaking. The silence between us was thick with tension. Jack paced around the office, I closed my eyes and hoped.

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