After showing the department head the footage and the accompanying calculations to support her theory, he believed her assumptions and approved the expense of hiring their own pathologist for the investigation. According to the manufacturer, a correctly installed Observer GX was nearly undetectable. Tex hoped that the authorities hadn’t been overly meticulous, giving them a good chance to retrieve footage from it. The recording was triggered by a sequence of rapid blinks, and while the storage capacity was minimal, the recording—no matter how short—would undoubtedly be invaluable for reconstructing the circumstances of the victim’s death.

  Within a few hours, they secured their pathologist, who regularly collaborated with the association and was willing to perform extra tasks for a corresponding fee. It wasn’t a cheap service—Tex’s boss always frowned at the cost—but the stakes were too high not to try. Tex was assigned to accompany the doctor for as long as possible, and they were also provided with two security personnel. When the doctor arrived at the office, she personally escorted him to the parking lot, where the car and security team were already waiting.

  Jim was the driver, joined by another middle-aged security guard Tex recognized from the office but had never worked with before. Tex handed the doctor a small flashlight-like device capable of retrieving data from short distances. They double-checked its functionality before departure. It was an expensive but extremely practical gadget they had used before, so she didn’t need to explain how it worked. The drive was smooth; Jim seemed eager to make a good impression on the senior colleague, staying focused and speaking little.

  At the morgue, they had to wait outside. Only the pathologist was allowed in the room with the bodies. He was gone for a good two hours but nodded knowingly upon his return. Once in the car, he confirmed that he had retrieved something. Tex congratulated him on the job, and they headed back to process and review the data.

  At the office, the doctor bid them farewell in high spirits—a trip like this was a lucrative job for him. Jim and his colleague stayed on the ground floor, wishing Tex good luck before heading off to their next tasks. She went upstairs and handed the device to the technical department.

  Less than an hour later, Tex, her boss, and a few technicians gathered in front of the monitor of the unit decoding the data. Only video had been captured, but lip-reading algorithms reconstructed the dialogue, providing subtitles. The footage began with a scene showing a man, identified as Alex’s superior, removing a chip from a reader.

  “I’ve checked the chip, everything matches. I’ll handle the credits. I knew you’d manage to sell our project to them,” the man said, patting Alex on the shoulder with a predatory smile. “Now, if you don’t want my agents to blow up your daughter and ex-wife, you’ll jump out of the window after I leave.” He showed Alex a live feed on a personal reader—his daughter and ex-wife were gardening together. The camera then shifted to the interior of a car filled with armed men. Tex recognized the advanced rifle one of them carried—it was the same model used by the leader of the unit that had destroyed the victim’s apartment.

  “Any last words?” the man asked Alex with a nasty grin. Alex must have replied with something, because the man simply shrugged and coldly added, “Don’t hate the player, hate the game. In my place, you’d probably do the same.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he added as he left, “Don’t make me wait long for results.”

  After the man exited, Alex massaged his forehead and slowly sat at the workstation. Without saving or sending anything, he typed into an open text file: “I hope this recorded. Matthew Lopez and I sold the project to the competition. Now I’m going to die because of him. Please, whoever sees this, protect my family.” He then listed from memory the places, dates, and names of people involved. He deleted the text immediately afterward and closed the file. His hands were shaking, and he made several typos along the way. Standing up, he walked to the window, opened it, stepped one leg over the ledge—and the recording ended.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  After a moment of silence and head-shaking, Tex’s boss broke the tension.

  “That bastard,” he muttered. “Sold the project using his deputy’s hands, then erased him from the equation. Tops my list of scumbags of the quarter.”

  “Tom, I think one of the men in the car was on the team that blew up Alex’s apartment,” Tex said quickly. “He not only eliminated Alex but also every shred of evidence linking him to the case—except for this recording,” she added, nodding toward the monitor.

  “Got it. We’ll factor that in. Add your comments to the file by 9 a.m. tomorrow. I’ll schedule a meeting with management to decide the association’s next steps. Good work, Tex. And you guys too,” he said, nodding to the technicians.

  He motioned for Tex to go ahead, and they both left the room. As they walked down the hallway toward the elevators, Tom stopped at his office door.

  “We’ll be in touch. See you tomorrow!” he called after her.

  She waved a hand in acknowledgment and continued to the elevator. On her way out of the building, she spotted Jim. He noticed her too, quickly finishing his drink before crushing the can and tossing it toward the trash bin she was passing. It bounced off the rim and almost fell to the ground, but Tex kicked it back up with her heel, landing it squarely in the bin.

  “Assisting counts!” Jim said, approaching her. “Need a ride?”

  “Sure, but I’m picking the music,” she replied with playful defiance.

  “Deal. I’m taking this beauty today,” he said, nodding toward a sleek black car, one of the more comfortable models in their fleet.

  “What’s the occasion?” she asked as they walked to the car.

  “I’ve got a last minute assignment. Got to pick up the director for an important meeting tomorrow. Is it because of that recording?” he asked, opening the passenger door for her. She got in and answered, “Exactly. They’ll be deciding the next steps for the case.”

  Once she was settled, he closed the door and got behind the wheel. The drive was smooth—Jim, free of stress, was quite a capable driver. Tex played some niche post-electro from three decades ago. He didn’t object.

  Something seemed to be on his mind; she could tell he was searching for words. She studied him for a moment but was relieved to realize it likely wasn’t about anything romantic—thank goodness, she thought. During the third track, he finally spoke, somewhat sheepishly.

  “Sorry about that question back then. I didn’t know…” he trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

  It wasn’t his fault; she knew that and held no grudge. He couldn’t have known. Tex assumed he’d talked to one of the department veterans, who must have given him an overview of her situation. Now he felt awkward about suggesting a climbing gym outing. She found his concern endearing.

  “It’s okay, Jim. Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t have known. We’re good,” she assured him gently. “It’s nice that you care, but remember, you don’t have to tiptoe around me, or then we’ll have a problem. Got it?” she added, squinting at him playfully with mock sternness.

  “Got it. Thanks,” he replied, visibly relieved.

  The rest of the ride was lighter, filled with speculation about management’s upcoming decision and catching up on office gossip. Soon, Jim dropped Tex off near her place, and they said their goodbyes. As per Tom’s suggestion, Tex added her comments, video clips, and system logs regarding the man with the distinctive weapon to the joint report before going to bed. The rest was up to the analysis team and leadership. She wasn’t sure what they’d decide, but something told her they wouldn’t take a strictly legal route—not after seeing that recording.