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Drew writes that beside the other times. “The bank’s security team should be able to narrow it down. I’ve asked the detective to obtain their footage.”

Reid turns his laptop toward us. On the screen, a payment record sits beside copies of invoices and bank documents. “The card used at the supply store was issued through an account connected to Vintner Hospitality Logistics. VHL also appears in Connor’s loan files, and the account paid at least two of the false invoices sent to the vineyard.”

“The same account?” I ask.

“The account connected to the card,” Reid clarifies, pointing to the numbers. “We can show the financial link. We can’t show who had the card on the day of the purchase.”

I study the date. Two days ago, someone bought the fuel for a fire that injured me and destroyed part of the stable. Connor had been following the company’s name before he disappeared. Those facts now sit together on Reid’s screen, but the person behind them remains out of reach.

“Could Rick have bought it?” I ask.

“He could have,” Drew replies. “So could anyone with access to the card. The store’s footage doesn’t show the buyer’s face clearly enough to identify them, and the payment record only tells us which card was used.”

Drew sets the staff schedules beside the gate records Andrei asked him to review last night. “Everyone we’ve identified near the stable had a reason to be on the property. I’m checking their assignments against the camera footage to see who went behind the hay room.”

I think of Mila and Leo, the stable workers, and the drivers who pass through the yard every day. Whoever set the fire most likely had permission to be there.

My phone lies beside my coffee. I keep checking it, though I don’t know whom I expect to call. Rick’s disappearance gives the detective another reason to investigate him, but it also puts a man who may know where Connor is out of reach.

We’re still at the table when Reid’s laptop chimes. He reads the notification and straightens in his chair.

“What is it?” Andrei asks.

“Footage from the business near the garage where Connor’s car was found.” Reid opens a file. “Their manager sent the original recording to the detective and a copy to us.”

I lean forward. “From Tuesday?”

“Yes.” Reid checks the timestamp. “We asked businesses along the route after comparing Connor’s last call, the time he left Bellucci’s, and the garage Rick named. This camera faces the street beside the parking entrance.”

The image appears in black and white. A narrow sidewalk runs past a closed storefront, and a traffic signal reflects in the windows of parked cars. At first there’s no one I recognize. People pass through the edge of the frame, their faces pale beneath the camera light. A car turns into the garage and disappears.

Then Connor walks into view.

I know the shape of his shoulders before Reid enlarges the image. He wears a dark jacket, and one hand is in his pocket. He stops beside his blue Honda and glances toward the street. I remember standing in his empty parking space last week, imagining him driving away because he wanted to be somewhere else.

“There he is,” I whisper.

Andrei comes around the table and stands beside me. Reid leaves the video running.

Rick enters from the right. His gray coat hangs open, and he approaches Connor without hurrying. Connor turns toward him. There’s no audio, so I can’t hear what they say. I watch my brother take his hand from his pocket and gesture once toward his car.

Rick points back toward the street.

“Can you make it larger?” I ask.

Reid enlarges the image until their faces begin to lose detail. Connor’s mouth moves. He takes half a step away, then stops when Rick touches his own chest, as if making a promise or insisting on a point. I know how Connor argues. When he believes the numbers are on his side, he plants his feet and waits for the other person to catch up. Here he keeps checking the street.

A dark sedan pulls to the curb. Rick opens the passenger door. Connor hesitates, looks toward his Honda, and gets into the car. The sedan leaves the frame.

I wait for Connor to come back. The video continues with an empty sidewalk, another car, and a woman carrying a paper bag past the storefront. He doesn’t return.

“That’s all the camera has?” My voice sounds thin.

“It covers the entrance and this part of the street,” Reid answers. “The sedan leaves to the right. We’re checking cameras along that direction.”

I reach for the laptop. “Play it again.”

Reid moves the cursor back. This time I watch Connor’s hands. He doesn’t reach for his phone. He has no bag, no envelope of cash, and nothing that resembles a man leaving town. When Rick opens the door, Connor gets in without being pushed. I can’t tell whether he trusts Rick or believes he has no safer choice.