They were going through the records. Travis stood at the back of the analysis booth, hands folded behind his back, trying to keep his breathing even as his heart raced. They were going to find something. He didn’t know what — or he’d already have removed it — but he was certain they’d find him out.
Foolish. He knew better. And he really had no one to blame but himself. It wasn’t as if Cara Steinhaur had ever spoken to him, much less asked his help getting through the crossings. No, he did that all on his own. But they were such little things, minor infractions, and he didn’t want to se them take her away. He wanted to keep seeing her.
It was the last one that was the problem. That was no little thing. The scans wouldn’t tell him what was on the drive she smuggled out, but it didn’t have to. It just had to flog it as dangerous contraband. It just had to tell him to do his job.
But he hadn’t, and now he was going to lost that job, lose everything. Yet, he still couldn’t shake the feeling it was worth it.