I stared at her. “Then why didn’t he go to the police?”
“He did,” came a voice from the doorway.
Detective Ortiz stepped in, gun drawn, steady despite the chaos outside. “Quietly. Through federal channels. That’s why Denver mattered.”
Emily looked at me. “Denver was where he met their compliance officer. He thought he was exposing fraud. Instead, he discovered the company’s chief legal adviser had protected the operation for years.”
“Who?” I asked.
Emily’s eyes filled with tears.
She wasn’t looking at Ortiz.
She was looking at Alan.
My head turned slowly.
Alan Mercer stood motionless beside the sink. His face was blank—no concern, no confusion, no denial.
Only calculation.
My voice broke. “Alan?”
Emily pressed herself against the wall. “He was there the night Daniel copied the files. Daniel didn’t know who was feeding patient records to VasCor at first. I did. I found emails on Alan’s tablet. Contracts. Payments. Names.”
