Chương 7
Julian remained suspended.
Graves Energy’s stock fell seven percent before the market closed.
Nathaniel watched the number descend on a television in his apartment. The sound was muted. A financial anchor gestured toward his photograph while a banner beneath her asked whether the company had targeted a child.
His apartment occupied the upper floors of a limestone building overlooking the river. Margaret had chosen the furniture. After her death, Nathaniel had moved nothing except a lamp whose switch irritated him.
He stood in the kitchen and ate crackers over the sink.
Daniel called at six.
“The Carters received a temporary order,” he said. “No lockout, utility interruption, or nonemergency entry until a hearing next week.”
“Good.”
“The judge did not rule on ownership or the validity of the notice.”
“I understand.”
“Asha located preliminary records. Bellweather Holdings is owned by North March Capital. North March is controlled by a trust registered in Delaware. The trustee is an outside firm used by Graves Energy for legacy real-estate assets.”
“So we own it.”
“Possibly. The chain is designed to make that answer expensive.”
Nathaniel looked at the dark window above the sink.
“What about Morrow?”
“Two archived references. No active entity in our disclosed structure.”
“And the Alvarez family?”
“Still searching.”
Nathaniel drank water from the tap.
“Did you know the video would spread this quickly?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I assumed you knew.”
“I didn’t.”
“That may be part of the problem.”
Nathaniel set down the glass.
“Celia has instructed you not to work for me.”
“She instructed me not to use company resources on your behalf. I am calling as a friend.”
Nathaniel looked around the kitchen Margaret had designed for dinners they rarely hosted.
“Are we friends?”
Daniel paused.
“I was hoping not to discuss that tonight.”
Nathaniel almost smiled.
“What did Julian say about the wallet?”
“He claims it was stolen from his office yesterday.”
“Security footage?”
“No one entered his office except him and his deputy. He left the tower with the wallet at 7:42 last night. The embossed initials are visible when he pays at the garage.”
“So he lied.”
“Yes.”
“Can they place him at Bellweather Avenue?”
“Not yet.”
Nathaniel walked into the living room.
On the mantel stood a photograph of Margaret in a canvas hat, laughing beside a river in Montana. She had hated photographs and loved being outside. In the last year of her life, she had begun asking Nathaniel questions he avoided answering.
Did the tower make you happier?
Why do you keep defending men you don’t trust?
What happens when being responsible becomes another word for being afraid?
He had answered none of them well.
“Daniel,” he said, “did Asha find my old notes?”
“There are seven boxes from your executive files in off-site storage.”
“I had a black notebook in 2014.”
“We’ll request it.”
“I wrote Ellen’s name in it.”
“Then you should tell your personal attorney before investigators find it.”
Nathaniel sat in Margaret’s chair.
“I don’t have a personal attorney.”
“Now you’re being theatrical.”
“Give me a name.”
Daniel gave him three.
Before ending the call, he said, “Do not go to Bellweather Avenue.”
Nathaniel looked at the muted television, where his own face had been replaced by the image of Ruby in the lobby.
“I gave my word.”
“No. You said you understood.”
The line went quiet.
“You heard that?” Nathaniel asked.
“I take notes.”
Nathaniel chose an attorney and stayed home.
It was the first useful decision he made all day.
Three days later, the Carters retrieved Ellen’s box from the basement of New Promise Baptist Church.
The new pastor had never heard of Ellen. The basement key was missing. A deacon named Mrs. Brown arrived forty minutes late carrying two grocery bags and insisting she had not been told anyone needed access.
“I was at the dentist,” she said. “They numbed the wrong side first.”
Maren helped her carry the bags inside.
The basement smelled of dust, old hymnals, and damp cardboard. Metal shelves lined the walls. Children’s Christmas costumes hung from a pipe beside a broken floor fan.
Ellen sat on a folding chair while Leah and Maren searched.
Ruby attended school under protest.
The box was not where Ellen remembered leaving it.
“There was a shelf beside the furnace,” she said.
“The furnace was replaced six years ago,” Mrs. Brown replied.
“Then where did they put the shelf?”
Mrs. Brown shrugged. “We don’t keep minutes about shelves.”
They found three boxes marked CARTER. Two contained clothing from a winter donation drive. The third held tax receipts belonging to a Dennis Carter who had died in 2008.
Leah wiped dust from her hands onto her coat.
“Are you sure it was here?”
Ellen looked at her with wounded irritation. “No. I came for the atmosphere.”
After another hour, Mrs. Brown remembered that the basement had flooded. Several boxes were moved to a locked music room upstairs.
The music room contained a drum set, six plastic recorders, a child-sized robe, and stacks of banker’s boxes. Ellen’s sat at the bottom.
The cardboard had softened from moisture. One corner collapsed when Leah lifted it.
Papers slid across the floor.
Ellen made a sound and tried to stand too quickly.
“Sit,” Leah said.
“My files.”
“We have them.”
“Don’t mix the schedules.”
“They’re already mixed.”
Maren crouched among the papers. “Nobody touches anything until I photograph the layout.”
“This is a church floor, not an archaeological site,” Ellen said.
“It may become evidence.”
“That word has improved since I last met a lawyer.”
They spent the afternoon separating mold-stained correspondence from legible records. Many pages were copies without signatures. Some numbers had faded. A spreadsheet showed transfers from the relocation fund to Morrow Residential, then into accounts labeled tower stabilization and municipal interface. The totals matched Ellen’s memory.
There was also a copy of the disciplinary report accusing her of unauthorized payments.
May you like
Across the bottom, in Nathaniel’s handwriting, were four words.
Review after bond closing.
