Chương 7
The signature seemed to pull at the room from fifteen feet away.
“Dominic.”
“Yes?”
“I think I know what that document is.”
He didn't rush me.
That helped.
I walked back to the table and unfolded the sheet carefully.
The paper had softened along the creases.
At the top was a typed heading I had barely looked at in years because the important part, at the time, had been the paragraph beneath it.
CONFIDENTIAL EMPLOYMENT AND WHISTLEBLOWER PROTECTION AGREEMENT.
I read the title aloud.
Dominic stopped breathing for half a second.
“Keep reading.”
“It says Moretti Holdings agrees to provide employment consideration or placement protection in exchange for confidential cooperation regarding internal financial irregularities identified through Dawson Pike Advisory.”
“That wasn't in our standard agreements.”
“It gets stranger.”
I ran my finger lower.
“Any future Moretti-controlled employer receiving an application from Anna Carter is instructed to evaluate her without adverse consideration related to Dawson Pike's dissolution.”
Dominic said nothing.
“There is another paragraph.”
“Read it.”
“If employed by a Moretti-controlled entity, termination for cause or redundancy requires written review by Vincent Moretti or designated successor.”
My mouth went dry.
“Designated successor.”
Dominic's voice was quiet now.
“What name?”
I moved to the bottom.
There were two signature lines.
One held Vincent's signature.
The second had been blank the last time I remembered seeing it.
I stared at it.
It wasn't blank anymore.
Someone had signed across the line in faded black ink.
The name was unmistakable.
Elliot Pike.
I sat down hard.
“Anna?”
“Elliot signed it.”
“What?”
“As witness.”
Dominic said something I couldn't make out.
Then the line went completely silent.
For one terrifying second I thought the call had dropped.
“Dominic?”
“I’m here.”
His voice sounded different.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means he knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That my father protected you.”
I looked again.
Elliot's signature sat beneath the word WITNESS.
“Then why interview me eight years ago?”
“Because he couldn't refuse to hire you without risking questions.”
“He could have just rejected me.”
“Not if your application triggered the old flag.”
“Then why wait eight years to fire me?”
“Maybe he didn't.”
“What does that mean?”
“Maybe he waited eight years to find something.”
A cold sensation moved across my shoulders.
“Find what?”
“Your letters.”
I looked at the shoebox.
“They were here.”
“Were they always?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone at work know?”
“No.”
“Anyone at all?”
“My husband knew I wrote to Vincent.”
“Anyone else?”
I thought about old apartments.
Moves.
Boxes.
Friends carrying furniture.
The years after my husband's death when people came in and out helping with Lily.
“No one who'd care.”
“Anna, your last letter was when?”
I checked the postmark.
“Seven years ago.”
“So after you started at Moretti.”
“Yes.”
“What changed?”
“I gave up.”
“That isn't what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“What did you write in the last letter?”
I opened it.
The glue had never been broken.
My own handwriting showed faintly through the envelope.
“I don't remember.”
“Can you open it?”
I hesitated.
It felt ridiculous.
The letter was mine.
I had written it.
But for seven years it had existed as something addressed elsewhere, a piece of time that didn't belong to me anymore.
I slid a butter knife beneath the flap.
The paper tore slightly.
My handwriting filled three pages.
I scanned the first.
Then the second.
My throat tightened.
“What?” Dominic asked.
“I told him about Elliot.”
“Specifically?”
“I wrote that Elliot had approached me after I started at Moretti Group.”
“What did he say?”
“That I should be grateful the past was behind us.”
Dominic was silent.
“And then?”
I read further.
My younger self had been angrier than I remembered.
Less careful.
More frightened.
“I said I had started seeing the same vendor names again.”
“Which vendors?”
“I don't recognize most of them now.”
“Read them.”
I did.
Five names.
Dominic interrupted on the fourth.
“Say that one again.”
“Harbor Lane Logistics.”
Another silence.
“What?”
“That company still has contracts with us.”
I stared at the page.
“For what?”
“Warehousing.”
“Owned by?”
“Officially?”
“Don't do that.”
“A holding company in Delaware.”
“And unofficially?”
“We've never identified the beneficial owner.”
My eyes moved to the last paragraph.
There was one sentence underlined twice.
If you did not receive my earlier letters, someone inside your company is stopping them.
I stopped reading.
“Anna?”
I couldn't answer.
Because beneath that sentence, in handwriting that was not mine, someone had added a note in pencil.
Received too late.
Keep Carter employed.
Do not alert Pike.
I read the penciled note three times before I trusted my eyes.
Dominic said my name once, quietly.
“Someone opened it.”
“Yes.”
“Someone who had access to my father.”
“Yes.”
“And then they sent it back to you.”
I looked at the envelope.
The adhesive had been slit cleanly beneath the flap and resealed so neatly I had never noticed.
My fingertips went numb.
“I thought he rejected me.”
Dominic didn't answer.
For eleven years I had carried resentment toward a dead man based on envelopes somebody else had arranged for me to misunderstand.
It was a strange thing to discover that grief had been edited by an office procedure.
“Who wrote the note?” I asked.
“I don't know.”
“You know your father's handwriting.”
“That isn't his.”
I heard another voice in the background.
Marco.
Then Dominic said, “Send me a picture.”
I photographed the penciled sentence and the resealed flap.
Before sending it, I stopped.
“What?”
“You hesitated.”
“I am getting tired of giving Moretti Group evidence.”
“Then don't give it to Moretti Group.”
“What does that mean?”
“Send it to me personally.”
I laughed once.
“That distinction probably sounds larger from your side of Manhattan.”
“Maybe.”
At least he didn't pretend otherwise.
I sent it.
Lily turned over in the bedroom and muttered something about pancakes.
I lowered my voice.
“Could Vincent have ordered someone to intercept the rest?”
“No.”
May you like
“You sound certain.”
“I am certain enough to say no.”
