Chương 9
“What does this mean?”
“No one knows yet,” Saraphina said.
Lenora gripped her handbag.
“Then perhaps everyone should stop behaving as though Caldwell committed some crime.”
Saraphina looked at her.
“Who said this clears him?”
Lenora recoiled.
“You just heard him.”
“I heard that one document may have been forged.”
“One document?”
Derek’s voice was barely audible.
Saraphina turned.
He was staring at his phone.
“What?”
Derek did not answer immediately.
His thumb moved over the screen.
“Martin emailed me.”
Caldwell stepped forward.
“When?”
“Four minutes ago.”
“What does it say?”
Derek read silently.
His face drained.
“Derek.”
He looked at Saraphina.
“He says not to trust the archive.”
Elise frowned.
“Why?”
Derek swallowed.
“Because someone changed it after he copied it.”
Caldwell snatched for the phone.
Derek pulled it back.
“Don’t.”
“Show me.”
“Stop grabbing people.”
The words came harder than anything Derek had said all night.
Caldwell froze.
Derek’s hand shook.
Saraphina stepped between them.
“Read the rest.”
Derek looked at the message again.
“He says the original files are somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“He doesn’t say.”
“Call him.”
“I tried.”
“And?”
“Straight to voicemail.”
Elise held out her hand.
“May I see the message?”
Derek hesitated, then passed her the phone.
Saraphina watched the ballroom doors.
For the first time all evening, she wished Sloan had stayed.
Not because she wanted another confrontation.
Because Sloan had been receiving money from one of the accounts tied to whatever Martin was afraid of.
If the archive had been altered, then the four million dollars might mean something different than any of them assumed.
Or it might mean exactly what it seemed to mean and be mixed with something worse.
Saraphina hated both possibilities.
Caldwell looked at her.
“You believe me now?”
She turned.
“About what?”
“That somebody set this up.”
“You don’t know that.”
“My signature is forged.”
“Maybe.”
“Yours is forged.”
“Yes.”
“Martin says the files were changed.”
“Yes.”
Caldwell spread his hands.
“What else do you need?”
“The truth.”
His expression collapsed into frustration.
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Hold everyone else to some impossible standard while you stand outside it.”
Saraphina stared at him.
He continued before wisdom could intervene.
“You hid ownership from me for years.”
“I did not hide it.”
“You let me believe you had nothing.”
“You never asked.”
“That is hiding.”
“No, Caldwell.”
Her voice rose despite herself.
“That is you deciding there was nothing worth asking about.”
He flinched.
She felt the satisfaction of hitting the wound and hated herself for it immediately.
Caldwell looked away.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
“Maybe.”
The answer disarmed her.
She had expected another attack.
Not that.
Lenora stared at her son as if he had betrayed her by conceding anything.
Elise handed Derek’s phone back.
“Martin’s message needs to be preserved.”
Derek nodded.
Saraphina looked toward the ballroom entrance.
“Can hotel security find out whether Sloan is still in the building?”
Caldwell’s head snapped toward her.
“Why?”
“Because she may know something about the payments.”
“She already left.”
“She walked out of this room.”
“That means she left.”
“Maybe.”
Caldwell gave her a sharp look.
“You think she forged this?”
“No.”
“Then why do you need her?”
“Because I don’t know what she knows.”
Lenora muttered, “You’re obsessed with that woman.”
Saraphina almost laughed again.
Caldwell turned toward his mother.
“Please stop.”
Lenora went silent.
The words were ordinary.
The effect was not.
Saraphina had waited almost a decade to hear him say them.
She had imagined it would feel vindicating.
Instead, it felt late.
Painfully, uselessly late.
Elise approached one of the security officers near the doorway and spoke quietly.
The officer nodded and left.
Caldwell watched him go.
Then he looked at Saraphina.
“If Sloan is involved in this, I didn’t know.”
Saraphina met his eyes.
“That sentence has two different meanings.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
For once, he did not defend himself.
A minute later, the security officer returned.
He went directly to Elise and whispered something.
Elise’s expression sharpened.
“What?”
Saraphina asked.
Elise turned toward her.
“Ms. Mercer did not leave the hotel.”
Caldwell frowned.
“Where is she?”
“The east business lounge.”
“Why?”
Elise looked at the security officer.
He hesitated.
“She asked staff for a printer.”
Derek stared at him.
“A printer?”
The officer nodded.
“And an envelope.”
Saraphina felt a cold pressure settle beneath her ribs.
“What was she printing?”
“We don’t know.”
Caldwell was already moving.
Saraphina caught his arm.
He turned.
“Don’t.”
“She’s destroying something.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She asked for a printer after hearing about preservation notices.”
“And if you charge in there accusing her of evidence destruction, you may make everything worse.”
Caldwell looked at her hand on his sleeve.
Saraphina let go.
He stayed where he was.
That small restraint mattered.
Elise looked toward the hallway.
“I can speak with her.”
Saraphina shook her head.
“No.”
Caldwell frowned.
“Why not?”
Saraphina looked at the closed doors.
“Because if she is printing something, I want to know what she intends to do with it before we scare her into changing her mind.”
Elise studied Saraphina for a moment, then nodded.
“Fine.”
Caldwell looked between them.
“Fine?”
“You heard her.”
Elise lowered her voice.
“We observe first.”
Derek shifted his weight.
“And if she walks out with whatever she printed?”
“Then we decide based on what she actually does.”
Caldwell laughed under his breath.
“That is incredibly comforting.”
Saraphina looked at him.
“You wanted me to stop assuming the worst.”
His mouth tightened.
“That isn’t what I said.”
“It is close enough.”
The security officer returned to the ballroom doors and spoke into the radio clipped to his lapel.
Saraphina could not hear the response.
She could hear the quartet beginning another song.
Someone behind them complained quietly about the dessert course being delayed.
The ridiculous normality of the complaint steadied her.
May you like
She looked down at her ruined dress.
The wine had dried darker at the center and feathered toward the edges.
