Page 126 of Exposé

"It is. Just stick with me."

I leaned in, my brow raised as I scanned the new details pinned to the board. Brentwood, dressed in military-issued BDUs, posed for a photo that now hung in the center of her board.

How the hell did she get this?

She'd written his name on a Post-it note and circled it in red ink. Surrounding his photo were snippets of newspaper articles, printouts of government contracts, and blurry photos of transfer slips.

We've got a big problem.

“It started with the transfers.” Ava pointed to a cluster of documents in the bottom left corner. “There were several well-to-do names on there, but this one unknown name kept appearing." She pointed to his photo. "Keith Brentwood. At first, I thought it was a normal transfer because the amounts were insignificant, so I thought nothing of it,exceptthe routing was suspicious for such small transfers."

"Suspicious, how?"

"Offshore accounts, shell corporations, that sort of thing. So, I ran his name through every database I could think of. That’s when I found this."

She pointed to an old DOD report pinned next to Brentwood’s photo. “It’s a public report from the Department of Defense, buried in the archives. It listed contractors who worked on classified projects about ten to twenty years ago. And guess who was on that list?" A broad smile formed, creasing her laugh lines.

"Keith Brentwood?"

She clapped her hands together. "Bingo. Keith Brentwood has his name stamped all over a program labeled ‘Project Horizon.’"

My gaze narrowed. “What’s Project Horizon?”

“That’s where it gets tricky.” She pulled a sticky note from the board and read it aloud. “‘Development and testing of advanced chemical compounds for military use.’"

"What the hell does that mean?"

She's in deep.

Does she know how close she is?

Does she know what comes after this?

Do I?

"Sounds vague, right? But I cross-referenced it with a leaked report from a watchdog group." She pointed to a photocopy with a bright yellow highlighter streak across it. “Project Horizon wasn’t just about chemicals. It involved testing substances that could ‘enhance cognitive and physical performance,’ which is code for experimental drugs."

I frowned, stood from my chair, and leaned into her board, studying all the pieces. "Okay, are we talking about something like The Tuskegee Syphilis Study, Operation Whitecoat, or something bigger, like the British Nuclear Testing at Maralinga?"

"For the record, your off-the-top knowledge of governmental experiments is concerning." She gave a nervous laugh. "But no, think MK-Ultra."

"MK-Ultra was an LSD study on soldiers by the CIA. What does Keith Brentwood have to do with the CIA? And how thehelldid you get this information?"

Her lips curved into a sly smile. “There are people who don’t like secrets staying buried. A few years ago, someone leaked a trove of internal documents to a nonprofit. Some of it had redacted information but enough slipped through to give me a trail to go off. I followed the names on the leaked contracts, looking for connections, and that’s when I hit my next lead.”

She pointed to another section of the board, where she'd pinned a photo of a government building beside an article. “Brentwood worked as a security consultant after leaving the military. His clients? High-ranking officials and private contractors tied to the pharmaceutical industry. It all lined up—he was perfectly positioned to bridge the gap between government projects and private sector distribution.”

"Wait, wait. What are you saying here?"

"Shhh.Just wait." She pushed at my shoulders until I sat back down on the couch. "It gets weirder. Brentwood ends up being part of a congressional inquiry into misappropriated funds for defense projects, brought to you by none other than... my other source, Kane Rogers, who..." she held up her finger. "Suddenly died after I spoke to him. Coincidence? I think not."

"This is starting to sound like fiction, Ava."

That's the connection that asshat had to Kane.

"I know. I had a hard time believing it, too, but listen." She tapped the pen on her lip as she paced. "Six years after this, he disappears."

“Disappears? As in dead or apoof?” I stared at the timeline she'd etched into the bottom of the board.

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