“I recognize it,” Anh said, coming to sit next to her. “I recognize the voice. From that talk we went to.” She paused, searching Olive’s eyes. “That was Tom Benton, wasn’t it?” “What the—” Malcolm stood. There was real alarm blooming in his voice. Anger, too. “Ol, why do you have a recording of Tom Benton saying shit like that? What happened?”
