Chương 9
Sarah said nothing.
Genevieve wiped at her face with the heel of her hand.
“I don’t want Hazel growing up with pictures of me in that thing.”
Sarah leaned forward.
“Then don’t take pictures in it.”
A wet laugh escaped Genevieve.
“That’s terrible advice.”
“It’s what I have.”
Genevieve looked at the chair again.
“Tomorrow I’m supposed to learn how to move from the bed into it.”
“Yes.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then you try again.”
“What if I stay like this?”
Sarah’s silence returned.
Genevieve looked at her.
“Say something.”
“I won’t lie to you.”
“I know.”
“Your doctors don’t know yet.”
Genevieve pressed her lips together.
Hazel slept against her.
The fear came quietly this time.
Not as panic.
As a future she could not picture.
Sarah’s phone vibrated.
She glanced down.
Her expression sharpened.
“What?”
“The forensic firm just confirmed they captured the server image before Julian’s credentials were revoked.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
Sarah turned the screen toward Genevieve.
The archived settlement file had been accessed again fourteen minutes earlier.
Not downloaded.
Deleted.
Genevieve stared at the timestamp.
“Julian?”
“No.”
Sarah scrolled farther.
“The credentials belong to Arthur Bell.”
For a few seconds, Genevieve assumed she had misunderstood.
“Arthur deleted it?”
Sarah enlarged the forensic alert.
“The account authenticated with his credentials.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
“Call him.”
Sarah did.
Arthur answered on the second ring.
“Genevieve?”
“Why did you delete my father’s settlement file?”
Silence.
Sarah put the call on speaker.
“Arthur.”
“I didn’t.”
Genevieve looked at Sarah.
Sarah pointed to the screen.
“Your credentials accessed the archive at eight forty-three and issued a deletion command.”
“I’ve been sitting in my den for the last hour.”
“On your computer?”
“My tablet.”
“Is anyone else there?”
“My wife is upstairs.”
Sarah leaned toward the phone.
“Arthur, do not touch your laptop, tablet, phone, router, or anything connected to your home network.”
Arthur gave a dry laugh.
“At my age, that sounds less like legal advice and more like a hostage situation.”
“Take it seriously.”
“I am.”
“Has Julian ever had access to your passwords?”
“No.”
“Your assistant?”
“Possibly to older accounts.”
“Who else?”
Arthur hesitated.
“Richard.”
Genevieve looked up sharply.
“My father has been dead four years.”
“I know.”
“What does that have to do with tonight?”
“The credentials I use for the archive were originally created when Richard and I were the only two directors with access.”
Sarah’s expression changed.
“Were the accounts ever migrated?”
“I assumed they were.”
“Assumptions again,” Genevieve muttered.
Arthur heard her.
“Yes.”
He sounded tired.
“A lot of those tonight.”
Sarah typed something on her phone.
“Was there a shared recovery mechanism?”
“A hardware token, originally.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Genevieve frowned.
“You don’t know where something that can access protected company archives is?”
“It hasn’t been used in years.”
“Apparently it has.”
Arthur did not answer.
Sarah stood and moved toward the window.
“Describe it.”
“A little gray device.”
“How little?”
“About the size of a car key.”
“Marked?”
“Vance Systems, maybe.”
Genevieve felt the first flicker of recognition.
She had seen something like that before.
Not recently.
The memory would not settle.
A desk drawer.
Her father’s hands.
A key ring.
Then it vanished.
“Genevieve?”
Sarah said.
“I’m trying to remember.”
“Don’t force it.”
That annoyed her.
“I’m not made of glass.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You keep looking at me like I’m about to shatter.”
Sarah glanced at the wheelchair.
“Today has not exactly been your strongest argument against fragility.”
Genevieve almost snapped back, then stopped.
The anger had been easier than fear.
That made it dangerous.
Arthur cleared his throat.
“There’s something else.”
Genevieve closed her eyes.
“Of course there is.”
“Richard kept a duplicate token.”
“Where?”
“I never knew.”
Sarah turned.
“Why would he need a duplicate?”
“Because he trusted systems less than people and people less than systems.”
That sounded so much like her father that Genevieve could picture him saying it.
Her throat tightened.
“Did Kessler know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Julian?”
Arthur hesitated.
“I may have mentioned it.”
Genevieve’s eyes opened.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Why?”
“He was helping consolidate old records after Richard died.”
The room went still.
Sarah lowered the phone slightly.
“Arthur.”
“Yes.”
“You gave Julian access to Richard’s archival records?”
“Not unrestricted access.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I gave him enough information to identify what needed preservation.”
Genevieve stared at the dark window.
“Without telling me.”
“It was administrative.”
“It was my father’s archive.”
“You had just buried him.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“No.”
Arthur did not defend himself.
That made her angrier.
“You all keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Deciding what I can handle.”
The words came out louder than she intended.
Hazel stirred against her chest.
Genevieve immediately lowered her voice.
“My father did it.”
She looked at Sarah.
“You do it.”
Then at the phone.
“You did it.”
Arthur said nothing.
“And Julian apparently built an entire second life around it.”
Her voice broke on the final word.
She hated that.
Sarah looked away, giving her the privacy of not being watched.
Arthur spoke quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
Genevieve stared at Hazel’s tiny ear.
“I don’t need apologies tonight.”
“No.”
“I need the truth.”
Arthur inhaled.
“Then I’ll give you what I have.”
Sarah sat again.
Arthur continued.
“The Kestrel project started as an off-book opportunity Richard was considering personally.”
“Why personally?”
“He believed Vance Development was too exposed to municipal redevelopment risk at the time.”
“What kind of buildings?”
“Low-income apartments.”
“How many?”
“Six initially.”
Genevieve’s stomach turned.
“And the fire?”
“One building.”
“When?”
“March 2012.”
“Was it occupied?”
“Yes.”
“How many tenants?”
Arthur paused.
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember someone died.”
“One woman.”
“Name?”
“I don’t know.”
Genevieve pressed her lips together.
“Did Dad own the building when it burned?”
“That was disputed.”
Sarah leaned closer.
“Explain.”
“Kestrel had executed the acquisition agreement, but closing had not formally occurred.”
“Control before closing?”
“Possibly.”
“Access?”
May you like
“Yes.”
“Renovation activity?”
