Peter Harris was a retired cop who used to work at the NYPD. We also discovered that he was assigned to that same case for a while. However, there wasn't much accessible information about him at that time, and he spent little time working on it either.

But the weirdest part was that he retired only a few weeks after my parents were killed, which made us confident that he knew something.

He was currently living with his family in Queens, and that was where we were headed, knowing there was no time to waste. We were desperate for any leads.

Liam finally parked the car in front of a family house. We got out and rang the doorbell.

A middle-aged man opened the door. A dazed expression dominated his features. He had tanned skin, and a thin, high-cheeked face, with many vertical wrinkles. His dark brown eyes stared at us.

I knew the look in them—it told me they were filled with obvious pain and hidden trauma.

"Can I help you?" he asked, looking at us warily.

Liam and I got out our badges and showed them to him.

"Sir, we were wondering if we could get to ask you a few questions?" Liam was the first to respond.

The man looked as if he didn't hear what Liam said. He kept his gaze fixed on my badge and on me.

"Alexandra!" he murmured quietly, almost to himself.

"You know me?" I questioned, feeling a thin thread of hope creeping into me. Nonetheless, I received no answer to my question.

"Sorry, I can't help you," the man blurted out.

My eyes widened, taken aback by his reaction.

He was about to close the door, but Liam put his leg in the way and stopped him.

"Sir, please," Liam said. "We just need to speak to you for a while."

The man never took his eyes off me. He was silent for a couple of minutes, looking like he was in a debate with himself. He finally sighed, giving in, as he gestured to the inside of the house.

We went in and as soon as we were all seated in the living room. I decided to start, as several questions were burning on my tongue.

"Sir, we're here because—"

"I know why you're here," he spoke, cutting me off. "And yes, I know you." He was studying me with a soft expression on his face.

Liam and I shared a look, but we remained silent and waited for him to continue.

"Your father was one of my best friends. We met when we were working together on the case of the Chinese symbol. Isn't that why you're here, Alex?" he asked.

I nodded quickly, feeling my heart racing in my chest.

He let out a sigh. "Your father and I both shared the same level of interest in that case. We knew that there were many fishy secrets behind it, and we wanted to find them."

He looked distant, as if he was remembering the old days. "Even after we both got dismissed from the case, we continued to work on it secretly for years. We uncovered lots of dirt that would have incriminated lots of vicious people and big-shots in the country."

Mancini's words started hitting me again, and I hoped that he would have any information that would lead us to the files.

"We were finally ready to bring all we found to light, but around that time, your father noticed he was being watched. He discovered that someone really close to him was, in fact, a mole. Someone in the FBI." He paused a little and took a deep breath before he continued. "Your father was sensing danger from all around. He wanted to get you and your mother somewhere safe. He said he would die if anything happened to you, but... it was already too late."

My chest tightened, and I felt a lump in my throat. I thought Liam might have noticed because he closed the gap between us and put a reassuring hand on mine.

"Everything happened too fast. I—I was shell-shocked when I heard about what happened, and I didn't know what to do," he said, looking at the ground.

"I thought they had gotten their hands on the files. But a few days after your father was—" He paused, raising a shaky hand to wipe the sweat that had formed on his forehead. "I—I received a box that contained everything with a letter from your father, asking me to do the right thing."

His eyes were teary as he continued. "I couldn't do it. I—I was scared. So, I left my job and went off the ground for a while until I made sure they weren't looking for me. But I couldn't get rid of the files, and I lived with that guilt all my life. You need to understand; I had a family too, and I wasn't as bold as your father was." He looked at me with pleading eyes.

"I understand that very well," I assured him. "But do you happen to still have those files?" I asked, silently praying to hear a positive reply.

He nodded before he slowly rose from his seat and disappeared upstairs.

The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed as if it were in sync with my heartbeats. They were both the only audible sounds in the room. I felt like I was holding my breath and wasn't able to let it out.

Liam squeezed my hand tightly but said nothing. I guessed he might have been feeling the same.

After another few torturing minutes, Peter Harris came back to the living room, a box in his hand.

He put the box on the table in front of us and handed me the files. "You need to be really careful with those and think twice before trusting anybody."

I nodded as I took the files from him, staring at them in disbelief. A part of me still couldn't believe we finally got our hands on them.

"James would have been really proud of you, you know. Good luck, Alex," he said, bringing my attention to him.

"Thank you," I muttered as I stood up.

Liam joined me. We left the house and got back into the car, but Liam didn't start the engine.

We both sat there in silence, looking at the files, not daring to touch them yet.

Liam sighed. "We need to think clearly so we can pull this trigger at the right time," he said, pointing at the files.

I nodded. "But we need to know what's inside of them, first," I said. "Let's get back home."

Liam nodded as he turned the key and brought the car to life. Then he started driving toward my apartment.

When we arrived there, each of us grabbed a file and started reading through it. We kept reading file after file without stopping.

Hours passed, and we were still reading through the files. The information inside of them was crucial. I couldn't believe the amount of infamous, corrupt names inside of them.

Finally, I put my hand on an FBI file. "Liam, look. This may be about the mole Harris was talking about," I said, showing him the file.

He left the one that was in his hand and came closer to me. "Come on, open it," he encouraged.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the file. We both started reading through it until we finally got to a very familiar name.

We both froze, and I felt my blood turn cold.

Liam looked up and met my wide gaze.

It was no one but Wyatt...