Chương 13
“And that satisfied you?”
“At the time?”
He laughed bitterly.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because everything involving Pier 17 was being handled like it might end up in court.”
Martin spoke without looking up.
“That part is true.”
I turned toward him.
“You knew about the account?”
“I knew special operations existed.”
“You knew my medication was being paid from it?”
“No.”
“You never audited it?”
“It was under operational confidentiality and Daniel’s authority.”
“Which I gave him.”
“Yes.”
Three men had built a system around me.
One wrote prescriptions.
One paid them.
One made sure the system functioned legally enough not to attract attention.
None of them had needed to conspire if each believed the next man knew more.
That possibility did not comfort me.
It made everything uglier.
“How much?” I asked.
Martin began typing again.
“What?”
“How much has the pharmacy received?”
“Give me a second.”
“I’ve given everyone five years.”
The typing stopped.
“Forty-eight thousand, six hundred and twelve dollars.”
Hannah made a small sound.
Cross said, “That can’t be right.”
Martin answered, “That is what the ledger shows.”
“Medication doesn’t cost that much.”
“Customized medication can be expensive,” Hannah said.
“Not that expensive,” Cross replied.
“How would you know?”
“I saw some of the invoices.”
I turned toward him.
“You just said they had no detail.”
“They didn’t.”
“Then what did they show?”
“Monthly totals.”
“How much?”
“Seven hundred, maybe eight hundred.”
Martin said, “The payments average closer to eight hundred, with quarterly charges around twelve hundred.”
“For five years,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Any other payees from the same account?”
Martin scrolled.
“Several.”
“Names.”
“Stamford Compounding Services.”
“That’s the pharmacy.”
“North Shore Clinical Logistics.”
Cross muttered, “Courier company.”
“Who used them?”
“Hale.”
“Next.”
Martin paused.
“Voss Protective Consulting.”
Cross swore.
I turned.
“Peter Voss?”
“Yes.”
Martin’s voice sharpened.
“Payments continue for eighteen months after his resignation.”
“Amount?”
“Variable.”
“Total.”
Another pause.
“Just under two hundred thousand.”
The room changed.
Even Cross stopped breathing for a moment.
“I never approved that,” he said.
Martin replied, “Your credentials did.”
I faced Cross.
“Your credentials.”
“Yes.”
“Meaning your login.”
“Yes.”
“Could someone else use it?”
“Not easily.”
“Could Hale?”
“No.”
“Could Voss?”
Cross hesitated.
“Back then, maybe.”
“Back then is not eighteen months after he left.”
“No.”
Martin clicked again.
“There’s more.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course there is.”
“Two payments to a private aviation service.”
Cross turned toward him.
“What?”
“March and April, five years ago.”
“After the explosion?”
“Yes.”
“Destination?” I asked.
Martin scrolled.
“It only shows charter numbers.”
“Get the invoices.”
“Who authorized them?”
Martin waited.
Then said, “Daniel.”
Cross slammed his fist against the wall.
The sound made Hannah jump.
“Stop saying my name like I did this.”
I turned toward him.
“Then tell me who did.”
“I don’t know.”
“That is becoming useless.”
“I know.”
He sounded furious now.
“At myself most of all.”
“Good.”
Hannah said my name softly.
I ignored her.
Cross stepped toward the desk.
“You think I stole two hundred grand and paid for somebody to leave the country?”
“I think your account did.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then someone used you.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t notice.”
“No.”
“You didn’t check.”
“No.”
“You kept signing.”
“Yes.”
His voice rose.
“Yes, Grant.”
The room went still.
“I kept signing.”
He hit his chest with the side of his fist.
“I drove you to therapy.”
He pointed toward the floor as though the old years lived beneath us.
“I sat outside your bedroom when you wouldn’t open the door.”
His breathing shook.
“I took the damn gun out of your desk.”
I froze.
Cross stopped.
Martin looked away.
Hannah’s face changed.
I said, “You?”
Cross swallowed.
“Hale told me where it was.”
The library suddenly felt too small.
“You took it.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“Was it loaded?”
“No.”
He laughed once, painfully.
“You wanted me to think it was.”
That shame was mine.
I could not give it to him.
He continued before I could answer.
“I dealt with funeral directors because you couldn’t.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“No.”
“You chose.”
“Yes.”
“And then you chose everything else.”
“That’s the part I got wrong.”
His voice dropped.
“I got used to deciding what you could handle.”
No one spoke.
That was probably the truest thing said all day.
Hannah moved to the side table and poured water into a glass.
She placed it within reach of my hand.
I did not touch it.
Cross sat down.
His chair creaked.
“I stopped checking things because everything had a reason,” he said.
“Every invoice.”
“Every doctor.”
“Every decision.”
“Hale said something medical, I believed him.”
“Martin said something legal, I believed him.”
“Finance said an account was confidential, I believed them.”
He rubbed his palms together.
“And you told me you didn’t want to know.”
The last sentence hurt because it was true.
Not all five years.
But enough of them.
I had built walls inside myself and then blamed other people for living outside.
That did not make what they had done acceptable.
It made the truth harder to divide into guilty and innocent pieces.
“Martin,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Freeze the account.”
“I can do that.”
“Preserve every access log.”
“Already started.”
“Do not alert finance until you have copies.”
He looked up.
“That could create employment issues.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“Hannah.”
“Yes?”
“Take Lucy upstairs.”
She did not move.
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“She is with Marta.”
“Marta went home at three.”
“No, she didn’t.”
Hannah’s voice was steady.
“I asked her to stay.”
“Why?”
“Because I suspected this conversation would get ugly.”
Cross let out a faint laugh.
“She’s learning.”
Hannah ignored him.
“I’m staying.”
“You work for me.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“That doesn’t mean you get to order me out of every room where I might hear something inconvenient.”
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
She picked up the water and pushed it closer.
“Drink.”
I drank.
Cross laughed again.
May you like
This time it was almost genuine.
“You’ve been trying to get him to do that for years.”
