Page 24 of Wild Card
We head straight for the surveillance room on sublevel two—the same room Aria and I have been using for days, combing through hours of footage, chasing gaps, tracing shadows. The access keypad blinks red when I swipe my own ID. Of course.
I take out Aria’s card and swipe it. The light turns green. We step inside and stop cold. Vincent and Miranda are standing in front of the monitors with paused footage on the screen.
Thesame exact feedAria and I were analyzing the night before she was arrested. Miranda’s face drains of color the moment she sees me. “How the hell did you get in here?”
I hold up the keycard. “Aria’s badge.”
Vincent steps forward, arms folded. Calm, collected. “This is Citadel property, Presley. You’re not authorized to be down here.”
“This is a joint investigation,” I say. “Or did you forget that part?”
Vincent’s smile tightens. “The case is closed.”
“Then what are you still doing here?” I snap. “What could you possibly be watching if everything’s already been resolved?”
Miranda glances at the screen, then back at me. “That’s none of your concern.”
Vincent’s voice hardens. “This is above your security clearance, Presley. I suggest you turn around and walk out before you find yourself in more trouble than you can handle.”
I stare at both of them, my heart pounding.
“You want me gone? Fine. But not until I get answers.”
Miranda squares her shoulders like she’s about to deliver a final warning. “I don’t know who you think you are,” she says, voice ice cold, “but you have no right to come in here and demand information you havenoauthority to access.”
She looks at me like I’m a rookie security guard who wandered into the executive suite by accident.
“You work forus, Presley,” she adds, each word sharper than the last. “Not with us.Forus.”
I feel the heat rising in my chest, but I don’t move. I don’t blink.
“No,” I say, quiet and deliberate. “I don’t work foryou.I don’t work for Vincent. I work for the truth. And I’m going to get it—whether you like it or not.”
Vincent scoffs, but he hasn’t said a word since Miranda started talking. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches or the twitch in his fingers.
Miranda’s lip curls. “You’ll never prove whatever you think your stupid little theory is.”
And that’s all I need to hear. I move. She tries to block me, but I push past her—hard enough to make her stumble. Dave’s already at my side, hands out, calming but ready.
“I got you,” he mutters.
I drop into the chair at the terminal, fingers flying across the keyboard. Citadel’s security logs are buried deep, but I’ve seen Aria access them a hundred times. I know the backdoor through admin view.
“You need to step away,” Vincent says, stepping forward.
“Back off,” Dave warns him. “You said this was a closed case, remember?”
I pull up the access logs and tap into the system activity tracking. It takes a second, but then—there it is. My stomach tightens.
“Look,” I say, pointing to the screen.
Dave leans in beside me. “Holy?—”
Lines of entries scroll across the display. Security footage access. Timeline edits. File markers labeled for deletion. Not just one. Not just a glitch—dozens.
Miranda’s voice rises behind me. “You have no idea what you’re looking at.”
I spin around in the chair. “I know exactly what I’m looking at. You’ve been erasing footage.”
