Chương 2
Nobody looked at Adrian.
That, more than anything, told me who had been controlling the story before I arrived.
Adrian folded his napkin once.
“Emily.”
“I didn’t trip.”
This time she looked at him.
Her face had gone pale, but her voice was steadier.
“You grabbed me.”
Celeste exhaled sharply.
“Because you were hysterical.”
“I was leaving.”
“You were stealing confidential documents.”
Emily turned toward me.
There were tears in her eyes now, but they did not fall.
“I found invoices.”
Adrian’s chair scraped backward.
“What invoices?”
She almost laughed.
It came out wrong, a short broken sound.
“You know which invoices.”
I kept my voice level.
“What did you find?”
Adrian pointed at me.
“This is a family matter.”
“Then let your wife answer.”
“My wife has been unstable for months.”
Emily’s fingers tightened around mine.
“She checks my phone,” Adrian continued.
“She goes through my work computer, she questions expenses she doesn’t understand, and then she creates these little stories because she needs attention.”
Emily stared at him.
“The vendors don’t exist.”
For the first time, Adrian’s face changed.
It was subtle.
His eyes shifted toward Celeste before returning to Emily.
I saw Celeste see it too.
“What vendors?” I asked.
Emily spoke faster now.
“Consulting companies.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Emily.”
“Maybe eleven.”
Adrian stood.
“That’s enough.”
“They get paid every month,” Emily said.
“Some of the addresses are mailboxes, and two of the companies have the same bank routing information.”
Nolan lowered his phone.
Claire whispered, “Adrian?”
He ignored her.
Celeste looked at Emily with naked irritation.
“A wife has no business digging through her husband’s work.”
Emily’s laugh came again.
This time there was anger in it.
“He broke my arm, and you’re worried I opened a spreadsheet.”
Adrian crossed the space between them in two steps.
He placed his hand on Emily’s injured shoulder.
She gasped.
I caught his wrist.
I did not squeeze.
I did not need to.
“Take your hand off her.”
He looked down at my hand and smiled.
“Or what?”
“Or you make the next thirty minutes considerably worse for yourself.”
He pulled free.
“Retired prosecutors always think the world still listens to them.”
“Some people do.”
Celeste rolled her eyes.
“Please don’t turn Sunday dinner into a courtroom.”
I looked at Emily.
“Where are the files?”
Adrian slammed his palm against the table.
“There are no files.”
The serving dishes jumped.
Claire flinched.
Nolan stood halfway, then sat again.
Emily’s gaze moved toward the bread basket.
She did not nod.
She did not speak.
She simply looked at it too long.
I lifted the folded linen covering the rolls.
A small black flash drive had been taped beneath the wicker rim.
Celeste rose so quickly her chair struck the wall.
“Give me that.”
I peeled the drive free.
Adrian stopped breathing for a second.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
I put the drive in the inside pocket of my jacket.
Celeste came around the table.
“You cannot remove company property from this house.”
“Then the company can request its return through counsel.”
Adrian walked to the dining-room door.
He turned the lock.
The click was quiet.
Emily’s nails dug into my palm.
Nolan stood now.
“Adrian, come on.”
“Sit down.”
“Man, this is getting weird.”
“Sit.”
Nolan sat.
Celeste crossed into the kitchen and picked up Emily’s phone from the counter.
Emily started to rise.
Celeste dropped the phone into her wineglass.
The screen glowed beneath the red wine for several seconds before going dark.
“No more recordings,” Celeste said.
I looked at her.
She had made a mistake.
Perhaps she saw that in my face, because her confidence faltered.
Only briefly.
Adrian stepped toward me.
“You’re going to give me that drive.”
“No.”
“You’re going to give it to me, and then you’re going to tell anyone who asks that Emily fell down the stairs.”
Emily whispered, “Mom.”
I kept my eyes on Adrian.
“And if I refuse?”
He looked almost sorry for me.
“You’re seventy-one, Margaret.”
He glanced toward the locked door.
“Accidents happen.”
My phone vibrated once against the table.
Adrian looked down at it.
So did I.
The message preview contained only five words.
We are at the gate.
I turned the phone facedown again.
Then I reached for my water glass and took a sip.
“Adrian,” I said, “before you do anything else, you should probably know who owns the largest block of votes that can remove you from Westbrook Industries tomorrow morning.”
Adrian did not answer.
The confidence left his face so slowly that someone who did not know him might have missed it.
Celeste did not miss it.
“What is she talking about?” she asked.
Adrian kept his eyes on me.
“Nothing.”
I picked up my fork and cut a piece from the roast he had carved.
The meat was overdone.
For years, Emily had teased me for judging people by what they did to beef, and under any other circumstances I might have smiled at the thought.
Instead, I chewed carefully and waited.
The doorbell rang.
Nobody moved.
It rang again.
Adrian glanced toward the front hall.
“Who did you call?”
“People who should have been here before dinner.”
He crossed the room and checked the small screen beside the security panel.
Whatever he saw made him step back.
Celeste hurried to him.
“Who is it?”
“David Mercer.”
Her expression changed.
Nolan looked from her to Adrian.
“Who’s David Mercer?”
Claire answered before anyone else could.
“Trust counsel.”
Adrian turned on her.
“How do you know that?”
“I work in corporate communications, Adrian.”
She gave a short, nervous laugh.
“I know who represents the largest shareholder.”
Then she looked at me.
Her mouth fell open slightly.
“Oh my God.”
Celeste went pale.
The doorbell rang a third time.
Adrian reached for the security panel.
I stood.
“Don’t.”
He looked at me.
“This is my house.”
“And Emily’s.”
“She doesn’t own it.”
May you like
Emily’s grip on my hand loosened.
I turned toward her.
