Lydia Park's desk was a geological survey of her last three months. Empty espresso cups. Court transcripts. A half-eaten protein bar that had achieved artifact status.
Her phone buzzed against a stack of papers on the AI developer she'd just finished eviscerating in the Chronicle.
She didn't recognize the number. "Park. This better be a correction or a lawsuit."
"How about the truth."
She knew the voice immediately.
"Mercer."
"I read your piece on Keller. You were right about him."
Lydia waited.
"I have a problem. A doctor in my program. Arrested. Misconduct with minors. The police have everything — I made sure of it. I need someone to tell it straight. No circus. No speculation. Just what happened."
"You're calling me to report your own scandal?"
"I'm calling because I'm done managing this. I want the truth told by someone who'll tell it regardless of what it costs me."
"Why me?"
"Because you were right about Keller. And I need someone who's going to be right about this."
He hung up before she could ask about the boy.
Lydia sat with the dead line for a moment. Then she picked up her espresso. It was cold. She drank it anyway.
Ten minutes later a courier in a charcoal-grey uniform arrived at the security desk with a heavy wax-sealed envelope. Lydia turned it over in her hands before breaking the seal.
The familiar surge hit before she'd read a single word.