“Brandon Robbins,” she said. “I’m Detective Elaine Patton, Baltimore Police. When you’re up to it, I have some things to tell you, and a lot of things to ask.”

She lifted the bag slightly. “You held onto this the whole way in. Wouldn’t let the paramedics take it. That was the smartest thing anyone’s done in this case so far.”

“Whose is it?” Brandon managed. His voice came out cracked.

“A man named Carl Henderson. Low-level muscle — the kind of person you hire when you want someone hurt and you don’t want to do it yourself. He is not careful.

This phone gave us location history that puts him at the alley, payment transfers coming in from a shell account, and a whole encrypted message thread.”

She let a beat pass. “The thread leads back to Gareth. And through Gareth, to your Mrs. Benedict.”