“If I’m right,” I said, “they’ll move again. Same way. Same timing.” He nodded once. “Then we do it clean. Quiet. No leaks.” I went back to the interview room alone. Walter looked smaller without the adrenaline in him. Exhaustion had settled deep, dragging at his posture, his face.
He flinched when I sat down, like he was bracing for another accusation. “I owe you an apology,” I said. He looked up, wary. I explained it slowly—what we’d found, what we believed was happening, and why he’d been in the wrong place every single time.