Chương 6
“I believe that you believe that.”
Evelyn made an impatient sound.
Marian turned to her. “That is not an insult. Claire’s account may have been used. We need device logs, authentication records, and the underlying workflow. A username is a starting point.”
Claire rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Ryan knew my password pattern.”
“Did you use multifactor authentication?”
“Yes.”
“Where were the codes sent?”
“My work phone.”
“Which Silverline collected.”
“When?”
“The day before my scheduled leave.”
“Who collected it?”
“Ryan. He said IT was short-staffed and he was going to the office anyway.”
The kitchen went still.
Evelyn reached for the legal pad.
Marian said, “Wait. Claire, did you personally watch him give the phone to IT?”
“No.”
“Did you receive a return receipt?”
“I signed the equipment form. Ryan brought it back for me.”
“Did the form list the phone’s serial number?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you keep a copy?”
“In my personal email, maybe.”
Claire searched. The signed form appeared as a PDF attachment sent by Ryan on November 27. It listed her laptop, docking station, access badge, and monitor.
It did not list a phone.
Her stomach tightened.
“He kept it.”
“Possibly,” Marian said.
“No. He kept it.”
“We will describe what the record shows. The phone is missing from the return form.”
Evelyn stood and walked to the sink. She gripped the counter with both hands.
“You knew he collected it?” she asked.
“I told you he did.”
“You told me Silverline collected it.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“You let your husband take the device used to authenticate payments?”
Claire turned on her. “I had just had surgery.”
“That does not make the risk disappear.”
“No, apparently it only makes me stupid.”
“I did not say that.”
“You never have to.”
Marian rose. “Both of you stop.”
Evelyn stared at the yard beyond the window. Claire pressed Noah closer until he made an irritated noise.
“I should go upstairs,” Claire said.
“There is no upstairs bedroom ready,” Evelyn replied, still facing the window. “I use it for storage.”
“I’ll move things.”
“I will.”
“No, you’ll create a project plan and ask me to sort linens by thread count.”
“I do not know the thread counts.”
“You would find out.”
Evelyn looked back at her. Something in her face had cracked.
“I am trying to keep you from being blamed for a crime.”
“I know.”
“I do not know how to do that while also being pleasant.”
“I know that too.”
Neither apologized. Claire carried Noah upstairs.
The room contained three boxes of tax records, a folded treadmill, and a bed buried beneath winter coats. Claire moved the coats to a chair and found sheets in the hall closet. One fitted corner had lost its elastic, and the pillow smelled faintly of cedar.
She lay down beside Noah’s bassinet but could not sleep.
At one-thirty, a car door closed outside.
Ryan stood on the sidewalk in a dark overcoat, looking up at the house. He had shaved. That detail offended Claire more than it should have. He had found time to make his face orderly while hers remained swollen from crying.
Evelyn opened the front door but did not invite him in.
“I need to see my son,” he said.
“You need to speak to counsel.”
“I’m not here about counsel.”
“You filed a custody petition before breakfast.”
“Claire left with him.”
“You packed his suitcase.”
Ryan’s jaw moved once. “She told you that.”
“She arrived holding a baby and a cracked suitcase. I was able to draw several conclusions.”
Claire stood at the top of the stairs where he could not see her.
Ryan lowered his voice. “Evelyn, this is not your fight.”
“You brought my daughter into my house at four in the morning and accused her of taking documents she does not have. You will forgive my confusion.”
“I am trying to prevent a corporate issue from destroying her.”
“By describing her as mentally unstable?”
“That filing was protective.”
“For whom?”
Ryan looked past Evelyn into the house. “Claire!”
Noah stirred in the bassinet behind her.
Claire descended halfway.
“I’m here.”
Ryan’s shoulders dropped. Relief appeared before he controlled it. “Is he okay?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see him?”
“Rachel will contact your attorney.”
“I’m asking you.”
“And I’m answering.”
Ryan stepped closer to the door. Evelyn did not move.
“Claire, you don’t understand what your mother found.”
“I understand three vendors share a registration contact.”
His face changed so slightly that another person might have missed it. Claire had spent seven years reading the small movements he used instead of admissions. His lower eyelid tightened. His mouth remained open a fraction too long.
“Did you access the archive?” he asked.
“No.”
“Your mother did.”
“The session was already open.”
“That archive contains confidential information.”
“Then why was my access still active?”
“You were not supposed to use it.”
“I didn’t.”
He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his phone, the same motion he had made in the bedroom.
“Come outside,” he said. “Five minutes.”
“No.”
“We need to talk without an audience.”
“You chose an audience when you filed in court.”
“This is about Silverline.”
“It became about Noah when you used him in the petition.”
Ryan looked down the sidewalk. A man was walking a golden retriever across the intersection. The dog stopped at a patch of dead grass and refused to move. Its owner waited with the exhausted patience of someone who had lost the same argument every morning for years.
Ryan lowered his voice. “My father believes you created Alder Grove.”
Claire felt the staircase railing press into her palm.
“Do you?”
“That is not what I said.”
“Do you believe I created it?”
He looked at her.
“I believe you signed the exception.”
“You asked me to.”
“I asked you to review it.”
May you like
“You stood over me while I was holding our five-day-old son and said people would miss payroll.”
“I was under pressure.”
