Ryder
I didn't sleep after we got back from Route Nine. I sat in my office with the clubhouse gone quiet around me, old ledgers spread across my desk, going back further than I'd looked in years, searching for any mention of a name I should have recognized the second Zoe showed me that photograph.
Victor Cole.
It took almost two hours of digging before I found it, buried in a supply log from nineteen years ago, back when my father still ran this club and I was barely old enough to hang around the shop unsupervised. A single line, easy to miss unless you were looking for it specifically. Fabrication contract, V. Cole Industries, paid in full.
I sat back in my chair, staring at that line, feeling something cold settle in my chest.
Nineteen years. Long before Samuel Carter ever worked on
