Chương 8
“Can you preserve that log?”
“It is being imaged by the vendor now.”
I could hear typing on Miriam’s end.
“She also accessed Claire’s executive mailbox at 8:37 tonight.”
Ethan looked at me.
“That’s the notification.”
“What did she open?” Ruiz asked.
“I do not yet know.”
“Can she alter records?”
“She has administrative privileges, but there should be audit trails.”
“Should?”
“Our internal system is not Fort Knox, Officer.”
“Understood.”
Miriam lowered her voice.
“Claire, there’s more.”
My stomach tightened, and this time it was not a contraction.
“What?”
“Someone created a forwarding rule in your email account.”
“To where?”
“A private address.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
I stared at the wall.
Three weeks.
Vanessa had been at my house three weeks ago for dinner.
She had brought lemon bars from a bakery Daniel liked and complained that pregnancy made her hate the smell of coffee.
I had believed she meant a client’s pregnancy joke when Daniel teased her about craving pickles.
How many lies had required me to cooperate by not looking too closely?
“What was being forwarded?” I asked.
“Messages containing certain terms.”
“Which terms?”
“Succession.”
My fingers went cold.
“Trust.”
Miriam paused.
“Death.”
Nobody in the room spoke.
“And Hale,” she added.
Ruiz’s eyes lifted.
“Dr. Hale’s name was a keyword?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Teresa.
Her face had lost color.
“Why would my doctor’s name be in a corporate email rule?”
No one answered.
Miriam said, “That is what I am trying to determine.”
Ruiz asked, “Was the rule created from Vanessa’s account?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
Miriam hesitated.
“Claire’s.”
A pressure built behind my eyes.
“That’s impossible.”
“Not impossible.”
“I didn’t create it.”
“I believe you.”
“Can you identify the device?”
“Not yet.”
“Location?”
“The login appears to have originated from your home network.”
Ethan looked at me.
Daniel.
The thought arrived so quickly that it felt like memory.
Three weeks ago he had spent Sunday morning in my home office while I slept upstairs.
He claimed his laptop battery had died.
He had brought me toast in bed afterward.
I remembered the blackberry jam on the plate because he had used too much and it stained the duvet.
For years I had treated his familiarity with my passwords and devices as intimacy.
Marriage had turned access into something ordinary.
Now every unlocked room in my life looked different.
Ruiz asked, “Could your husband have accessed that account from your home?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know your password?”
“He knew an older one.”
“Could he have seen the new one?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you store passwords in a browser?”
“Some.”
“Shared devices?”
“One desktop.”
“Biometric login?”
“Yes.”
She wrote quickly.
Miriam said, “There is another issue.”
“Miriam.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I suspect I do.”
“Please stop saying there’s another issue.”
A brief silence followed.
Then Miriam said, “Fine.”
Ethan looked at the phone.
“Are you going to tell us anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
I almost told them both to stop.
Then a contraction hit harder than the others.
I bent forward despite myself.
Teresa came immediately to the bed.
“Claire, look at me.”
I could not.
The pain spread around my hips and down into my thighs.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re holding it.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I exhaled sharply.
Patel returned as the contraction peaked.
He checked the monitor and looked at Teresa.
“How close?”
“Four minutes.”
His expression changed.
I saw it before he could smooth it away.
“What?”
“I want to examine you again.”
“It’s been less than an hour.”
“I know.”
The contraction eased.
Sweat had gathered at the back of my neck.
Patel pulled the curtain around the bed.
Ethan and Ruiz stepped away.
I kept Miriam on speaker.
“You’re still there?”
“I’m here.”
“Tell me the issue.”
“Later.”
“Now.”
“Claire.”
“Now.”
Miriam exhaled.
“The board packet Vanessa accessed includes the confidential valuation analysis for the Riverfront portfolio.”
I waited.
“So?”
“The offer.”
“What offer?”
“The unsolicited acquisition proposal we rejected in June.”
My stomach went cold again.
The Riverfront properties were the most valuable assets my grandmother left me.
Six commercial buildings along a rapidly redeveloping corridor, acquired decades before anyone considered the neighborhood desirable.
The rejected proposal had been worth thirty-eight million dollars.
More than three times the book value of the entire company.
“Daniel didn’t know about that offer.”
“He wasn’t supposed to.”
“Who made it?”
“Halcyon Development.”
I closed my eyes.
I knew the name.
Not well.
Enough.
Daniel had played golf twice with one of their vice presidents.
He said they met through a charity tournament.
At the time, I had joked that he had finally found people willing to listen to him talk about golf.
“Miriam.”
“I’m checking connections now.”
Patel finished the examination.
He removed his gloves slowly.
I watched his face.
“How far?”
“Four centimeters.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
Teresa put her hand on my shoulder.
I pulled away.
“I’m thirty-five weeks.”
“Your daughter is premature, but babies born at this gestation often do well.”
“Often.”
Patel nodded.
“I’m not going to promise you perfection.”
I looked at the fetal monitor.
The heart rate continued its steady rhythm.
“Can you stop it?”
“We are trying.”
“Try harder.”
The words came out crueler than I meant.
Patel did not react.
“We are.”
I covered my face with both hands.
Somewhere beyond the curtain, Ethan moved but did not come closer.
He was learning, finally, that not every disaster could be fixed by standing beside me.
My phone crackled.
Miriam’s voice softened.
“Claire.”
“I’m here.”
“I found the company registration.”
“What company?”
“The private email address receiving your forwarded messages is attached to a cloud account paid for by a limited liability company.”
Ruiz stepped nearer.
“Name?”
Miriam gave it.
I had never heard it before.
Then she added, “Its registered manager is Vanessa Cole.”
My breath stopped.
“Cole?”
Ethan turned toward the phone.
May you like
Miriam did not speak for several seconds.
When she finally did, her voice had changed in a way I had never heard before.
