Chapter 13 · Lights Out, Gun Up

The screen goes black.

Not dark. Black. Like someone cut the feed with a knife.

I'm still standing in front of Locke. His hand's on my hip, fingers tight enough to bruise. The room's dead quiet except for the hum of the projector and someone's radio crackling static.

Devin's still got his gun out. Pointed at the floor now, but his finger's on the guard. Not the trigger. Not yet.

"Play it back," the Deputy Director says. His voice is flat. The kind of flat that means he's about three seconds from putting everyone in this room in a hole. "From the parking lot timestamp."

One of the techs fumbles with a laptop. The screen flickers. Then it's back—grainy security footage, date stamp in the corner. Fifteen years ago. A grocery store lot at night.

My dad's walking to his car. He's younger. His hair's darker. He's carrying a bag in one hand, keys in the other.

A van pulls up. Side door opens.

I know what's coming. I watched this part already. But my stomach still drops when the first shot cracks and my dad goes down.

The van door's open. I can see inside now—