Page 139 of Brutal

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His voice is lower now.

Different.

Not the controlled tone from the house.

Something closer to memory.

To truth.

I don’t turn. “Walk me through it,” I say.

Nothing for a moment.

Then—

“It was raining. And he was already here.”

“You mean Halstead.”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Waiting?”

A pause.

“No.”

“Then why was he here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. The wind fills the silence. Water slaps against the dock.

Then—

“I thought he was the target,” he says.

My pulse jumps.

That again.

That same fracture in the story.

“Thought?” I ask.

He exhales slowly. “I didn’t question it.”

Something settles in my chest. Not grief. Not exactly. More like a flicker of anger.

“You don’t seem like a man who doesn’t question things.”

“I didn’t question that.”

“Why not?”

“Because everything around it said I didn’t have to.”

I turn then, face him. “Like what?”

“The access point, the timing, the position. Everything was already in place.” He walks closer to me.

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