It looked like none of them had been disturbed in years. Hell, decades. The stench of aged fruit spiced with mildew pummeled Zach’s nostrils. He closed the door of the last cellar he’d searched and moved on. The next room was locked, but the wood was old and mold-infested. With a few hard kicks, it splintered and burst open. Zach crashed inside, carried by the swift thrust of his kick. He found himself in some kind of makeshift office. A scuffed desk sat at the far-left corner, next to a metal filing cabinet. On a shelf over the desk, over a dozen hard drives stood side-by-side, perfectly lined up. He didn’t have to guess what information they stored. He’d seen their sick contents first-hand. This was where Liam had uncovered the truth, where he’d found the evidence he’d compiled. And gotten himself and Lindsay killed. Idiot. If Zach had his brother-in-law in front of him now, he would’ve punched him. He should’ve gone to his buddy, the ADA, instead of taking matters into his own hands.
