Chương 7
Elena forced herself not to retreat farther.
“One of the initials is AR.”
Adrian’s face became unreadable.
“Another is VC.”
He looked down at the report.
“The third?”
“MB.”
“Mateo’s initials were ML.”
“I know.”
“What were the numbers?”
“I don’t remember all of them.”
“That’s another lie.”
“I’m not handing you the only thing he left behind.”
“If my initials are on it, I may know what it means.”
“You may also destroy it.”
His jaw tightened.
Outside the office, footsteps approached and stopped. Marco’s voice sounded through the door.
“Victor’s here.”
Adrian did not look away from Elena.
“Take Lily to the third-floor rooms,” he said.
“I want to hear what he says.”
“No.”
“It concerns my husband.”
“It concerns a man who may have posted your daughter’s school.”
“Then I have more reason to stay.”
“He will know you suspect him.”
“He already knows I work here.”
“That is not the same.”
Elena shook her head. “I’m tired of men deciding which risks I’m allowed to understand.”
Something moved across Adrian’s face—not anger, exactly. Recognition perhaps, or an old irritation with himself.
He opened the door.
Marco stood outside with Victor.
Adrian looked at Elena. “Sit by the fireplace. Don’t speak unless I ask you a question.”
“I’m not one of your guards.”
“No. They listen better.”
Victor entered and stopped when he saw her.
“This is private.”
Adrian closed the door. “Not anymore.”
Victor’s gaze shifted between them. “What did she tell you?”
The question came too quickly.
Elena saw Adrian register it.
Victor noticed his mistake a second later.
He smiled. “I mean about the photograph.”
Adrian walked to the bar and poured two fingers of whiskey.
“Daniel asked for counsel,” he said.
Victor’s mouth tightened. “Daniel doesn’t get counsel.”
“Apparently he does.”
“You’ve gone soft.”
Elena felt the room contract.
Adrian handed Victor the glass but did not pour one for himself.
“Drink.”
Victor accepted it without taking his eyes off him. “What are we doing?”
“Talking.”
“About?”
“Lakeshore Freight.”
Victor did not react dramatically. He lowered the glass, glanced toward Elena, and exhaled through his nose.
“That was settled.”
“Her husband died in the records office.”
“Six people died.”
“Five died near the south loading dock. Mateo Morales died upstairs.”
Victor drank. “You’ve read the report.”
“I’ve read three reports. They disagree.”
“Reports disagree.”
“You knew the location before I told you.”
Victor looked at him for a long moment, then laughed once.
“This is what we’re doing now? Your housekeeper asks a question, and you interrogate me?”
Adrian leaned against the desk. “Who hired Paul Kennelly after he retired?”
“I have no idea.”
“He consulted for Grayson Waste.”
“We own twenty percent.”
“You signed his contract.”
Victor’s fingers tightened around the glass.
Adrian continued. “Who ordered the Lakeshore files destroyed after the settlement?”
“Legal.”
“Which lawyer?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember every waiter who has ever overcharged you.”
“This was two years ago.”
“Twenty-six months.”
Victor set the whiskey down untouched after the first sip.
“You’re embarrassing yourself,” he said. “All because a child painted your face and people laughed. That’s what this is. You don’t know where to put your anger, so you’re searching old paperwork and frightening women who already hate you.”
Elena looked at Adrian.
The words struck. She could tell by the way he became quieter.
Victor saw it too.
He stepped closer.
“You want my advice? Send her away. Pay her. Put the kid in some private school in Wisconsin. Then deal with Daniel, find whoever posted the address, and remind people why they used to keep your name out of their mouths.”
Adrian’s gaze dropped to Victor’s hand.
A faint streak of yellow paint marked the cuff of his white shirt.
Elena saw it at the same moment.
Victor followed their eyes.
For one second, no one spoke.
Adrian straightened. “Where did that come from?”
Victor looked at his cuff. “What?”
“The paint.”
He rubbed it with his thumb. “Your ridiculous picture was passed around the office. Someone printed it.”
“Watercolor doesn’t transfer from a print.”
Victor’s expression changed by a degree.
Elena felt a chill.
Adrian moved toward him. “You were in this house yesterday.”
“I come here most days.”
“Not in the sitting room.”
“Maybe I touched the palette.”
“When?”
Victor smiled again, but the smile no longer reached his eyes. “Listen to yourself.”
Adrian looked toward Marco. “Search his car.”
Victor turned sharply. “Don’t.”
The single word answered more than refusal would have.
Marco left.
Victor faced Adrian. “You have no idea what you’re starting.”
“Then explain it.”
“You think everyone follows you because of your name? Because your father sat in that chair? They follow certainty. Yesterday, you let a cleaning woman’s child climb on you in front of soldiers. Today, you’re asking permission from a lawyer before questioning a thief.”
“Daniel isn’t a thief yet.”
“Everyone is something before you prove it.”
Adrian’s face remained composed, but Elena saw the split knuckle of his right hand bend against his palm.
Victor looked at her.
“And she’s not here for wages.”
Adrian’s eyes hardened. “Don’t speak to her.”
“She came into your house carrying a dead man’s accusation. You know that, and you still let her stand behind you.”
Elena rose from the chair.
Victor pointed at her. “Ask what she took from the office last Thursday.”
Her stomach dropped.
Adrian looked at her.
“I didn’t take anything.”
Victor laughed. “Check the security archive.”
“I was dusting.”
“You opened the bottom drawer.”
“It was unlocked.”
Adrian’s gaze changed.
Elena heard her own breathing.
“I didn’t remove anything,” she said.
“What did you see?” Adrian asked.
“A ledger.”
“Which ledger?”
“I don’t know.”
Victor shook his head. “She photographed three pages.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?”
Elena looked at Adrian. “My phone was in the staff locker.”
He watched her carefully. “Was it?”
May you like
“Yes.”
The door opened. Marco entered carrying a plastic evidence bag. Inside was a child’s tiny paintbrush stained yellow and purple.
