Merritt noted the phrasing—no exit log. Simple on paper, damning in sound. Yet the detail it contained felt incomplete, like a note missing its final chord. He circled the phrase on his pad, marking it for later.
“The vault handle bore his fingerprints,” Lowell said. “The security footage was lost when the power failed.” He paused, letting silence imply certainty. Merritt observed quietly that Lowell enjoyed performance. Confidence, he thought, often hid the places doubt should live.