Chương 8
"Why would someone want that?"
Luis looked at her.
"I was hoping you could tell me."
That answer bothered her.
Because it meant he knew less than she did.
And somehow that made everything worse.
Mara looked back at the envelope in her hand and then at the message glowing on her phone.
The two things felt connected even though she did not yet know how.
Greg watched her expression change.
"What happened?"
She turned the screen toward him.
His face lost color.
Not much.
Just enough for her to notice.
"You know that number."
Greg did not answer.
"Greg."
He looked at the door again.
"Not here."
Mara almost laughed.
"Where exactly would you prefer we discuss the person threatening me?"
His jaw tightened.
"I am trying to keep you safe."
"No."
She stepped back.
"You are trying to keep yourself out of this."
The accusation landed.
Greg looked like he wanted to argue.
Instead, he looked tired.
"I deserve that."
Mara had expected defensiveness.
The acceptance unsettled her.
People who were hiding something usually fought harder.
The woman from the lobby stood up and collected her purse.
She avoided looking at them as she walked outside.
A few seconds later, the front door closed behind her.
Greg lowered his voice.
"Come into my office."
Mara stayed where she was.
"If you lock that door, I leave."
He nodded.
"Fair."
He pushed the office door open but did not close it.
That small gesture bothered her because it felt like honesty arriving too late.
She sat in the chair across from his desk.
Greg remained standing.
"My father left you that envelope four years ago," she said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I told you."
"No, you told me what he said."
She placed the envelope on the desk.
"I want to know why he trusted you."
Greg looked at the handwriting.
"He didn't."
The answer was immediate.
Mara frowned.
"Then why leave it?"
"Because he trusted me enough to hold something he didn't want someone else to find."
"That isn't trust."
"No."
Greg looked down.
"It was desperation."
The word stayed between them.
Mara touched the edge of the envelope.
"What was my father afraid of?"
Greg did not respond.
She waited.
Seconds passed.
Then a minute.
Finally, he sat down.
"Your father believed someone was using this building to hide things."
"What things?"
"Records."
"What kind of records?"
"I don't know."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it is true."
Mara leaned back.
"You knew he was investigating."
"I knew he was looking."
"Same thing."
"No."
Greg shook his head.
"It wasn't."
He rubbed his thumb across the corner of a folder on his desk.
"Your father was a careful man, but he was not careful about his own safety."
Mara looked away.
She hated hearing that.
Because it sounded like criticism.
Because it sounded like something she had said herself when she was angry after his funeral.
Everyone loved him.
Everyone said he was brave.
Nobody talked about how exhausting it was to love someone who always believed there was one more problem he needed to solve.
"What did he find?" she asked.
Greg looked toward the hallway.
"I don't know."
Mara stood.
"Then I am done wasting time."
She picked up the envelope.
Greg's voice stopped her.
"The woman who took your things."
Mara turned.
"What about her?"
"She wasn't alone."
The room became still.
"Who was with her?"
"I don't know."
"You just said she wasn't alone."
"I saw another person."
"Who?"
Greg swallowed.
"A man."
"Description?"
"Late forties maybe."
"Maybe?"
"I saw him for a few seconds."
"What was he doing?"
Greg looked uncomfortable.
"He was watching the hallway."
Mara's fingers tightened around the envelope.
"Watching her?"
"No."
Greg looked at her.
"Watching the apartment."
The answer changed something.
This was no longer about an old box hidden under a bed.
Someone had not just taken things.
Someone had been waiting.
Mara left the building before she could say anything else.
Outside, the afternoon had started turning gray.
The city looked ordinary.
That bothered her.
She walked two blocks without deciding where she was going.
Her feet carried her before her mind caught up.
She ended up at the small coffee shop where she usually stopped after work.
The cashier behind the counter looked up.
"Mara."
The familiarity almost broke her.
"Hey, Sam."
"You okay?"
She opened her mouth.
The easy answer was yes.
It was what people expected.
Instead, she said nothing.
Sam noticed.
He did not push.
That was one of the reasons she liked him.
He handed her a coffee she had not ordered.
"On the house."
"I didn't ask for this."
"I know."
She looked at the cup.
"That seems like a dangerous amount of confidence."
Sam smiled slightly.
"You have ordered the same thing every Thursday for two years."
"That doesn't mean I wanted it today."
"Fair."
He took the cup back.
Then paused.
"Actually, you probably do."
Mara almost smiled.
Almost.
She took the coffee.
She sat near the window and watched people move past.
A man in a suit ran across the street carrying a folder over his head when it started raining.
A teenager argued with a friend beside a bus stop.
A woman in scrubs ate a sandwich while walking.
Everyone carried something.
Most people just hid it better.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time it was Daniel.
She answered.
"You found something," he said.
Mara frowned.
"How do you know?"
"Because you sound worse."
She looked down at the envelope.
"Someone took Dad's box."
A pause.
Then Daniel said quietly.
"What box?"
Her stomach tightened.
"What do you mean what box?"
"I mean I don't know what box you're talking about."
Mara sat up.
"The box under my bed."
Another silence.
Longer.
"Daniel."
"I didn't know there was a box."
The coffee shop noise seemed to move farther away.
"You're lying."
"I am not."
"You knew about Dad's things."
"I knew about his notebook."
May you like
Mara froze.
"What notebook?"
