Claire locked that number in her mind.
Eleven-seventeen.
Kessler ripped open another drawer.
Dugan crossed to the closet and started dragging hangers apart with rough, impatient hands.
Hale stood there watching them, jaw tight, saying nothing.
Claire’s eyes moved once, carefully, to the navy windbreaker hanging from the hook near the bathroom door.
Gold block letters across the back.
BUREAU.
Kessler’s flashlight paused on it for three long seconds.
Three full seconds.
His breathing changed.
So did Dugan’s.
Even Hale shifted his weight.
For a moment, the room felt different.
Like the truth had walked in and stood between them.
Then Kessler kept moving.
That told Claire everything she needed to know.
This wasn’t a bad call.
This wasn’t confusion.
This was intent.
They had seen the coat, and they were doing this anyway.
Good, she thought.
Good. Let them.
Most people in that moment would have panicked.
