Chương 4
“Which security company?”
Alexander felt something cold move through him.
“Blackwood Protective Services handled executive security then, but they subcontracted overflow.”
“To whom?”
He looked at Marcus.
Marcus was already pulling out his phone.
“Vale Strategic,” Marcus said.
Ortiz reopened her notebook.
“Spell that.”
Marcus did.
Alexander remained still.
“Martin Vale?”
Marcus looked up sharply.
“You know him?”
“No. I know the name now.”
Lily had heard it the night Claire disappeared.
Mr. Vale.
The man on the street had introduced himself without saying a word.
Alexander stood.
“Detective.”
“Don’t.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You were about to tell me what your private security team can do faster than police.”
He said nothing.
Ortiz pointed at the chair.
“Sit.”
Alexander sat.
“I know your type.”
“I doubt that.”
“People with buildings named after them?”
He almost corrected her. Blackwood Tower had been named after his grandfather.
He decided survival required silence.
Ortiz continued.
“You think because you can access cameras, employees, leases, cars, phones, and lawyers, you can make this faster. You might. You might also contaminate evidence, scare whoever has Claire, or tip off someone inside your own company.”
Alexander looked at her.
“Then tell me what you need.”
“Everything.”
“Define everything.”
“Executive security contracts. Vendor lists. Access records for the Renshaw. Anyone Claire accused or investigated. Your messages with her. Your travel calendar from ten months ago. Anything showing where you were when those children were conceived.”
Marcus looked faintly impressed.
Alexander removed his phone from Marcus’s hand and gave it to Ortiz.
“Start there.”
She blinked.
The gesture cost him more than she could know.
That phone contained acquisition negotiations, private board arguments, family correspondence, legal strategy, photographs, access tokens, and years of messages he had never expected another human being to read.
Ortiz handed it to her partner.
“We’ll document receipt.”
“Take my work tablet too.”
“Your lawyers are going to hate you.”
“They have other hobbies.”
At eleven seventeen that morning, Graham Blackwood finally reached him through Marcus’s phone.
Alexander answered from a quiet consultation room beside pediatrics.
His uncle did not say hello.
“What have you done?”
Alexander looked through the glass at Lily sleeping sideways in a chair with one hand still resting on Mae’s bassinet.
“Be specific.”
“Half the building saw you assault someone in the street.”
“He reached for a newborn.”
“I’m told there were two.”
Alexander went still.
Very small.
Very controlled.
Marcus, across the room, noticed.
“How do you know that?”
There was a pause.
“Know what?”
“That there were two babies.”
“Jesus Christ, Alex. People filmed it. It’s online.”
Possible.
Probably true.
Alexander had seen phones.
But Graham had called before the public relations director, before the board secretary, before anyone else who normally tracked online disasters.
And he had not asked whose children they were.
He already knew enough to be afraid.
“Do you know Martin Vale?” Alexander asked.
Silence.
Then Graham exhaled.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Answer me.”
“Vale’s company worked for us years ago.”
“Worked for you?”
“For the company.”
“You’re the one who approved the subcontract.”
“Along with twelve other vendors.”
“Claire disappeared last night.”
Another pause.
This one was different.
Longer.
Graham lowered his voice.
“Alex, listen to me carefully. Do not turn this into one of your crusades.”
“My what?”
“You get emotionally attached to a version of events and decide anyone questioning you is the enemy. You did it with your father. You did it with Claire.”
Alexander’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Where is she?”
“How would I know?”
“Because the man who took her works through a security company you approved.”
“Allegedly.”
“Because you knew there were two infants.”
“I told you. Video.”
“And because you haven’t once asked why Claire’s daughter brought them to me.”
Graham said nothing.
Alexander could hear the faint ticking of the old clock in his uncle’s office.
He knew that clock. Mahogany case. Brass pendulum. His grandfather had bought it at auction.
Graham finally spoke.
“You need to leave the hospital.”
“No.”
“The board is assembling.”
“Good for them.”
“We have lenders calling.”
“Then answer them.”
“You are the chief executive.”
“Today I’m something else.”
“What?”
Alexander looked at Nora through the glass.
“I’m still finding out.”
He ended the call.
Marcus leaned against the wall.
“That was subtle.”
“Thank you.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“I know.”
“You think Graham’s involved?”
Alexander put the phone down.
“I think my uncle knew something he shouldn’t have known.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Marcus had worked for him seven years. He had served in the Army before executive protection, hated olives, loved baseball, and refused to wear gloves unless the temperature dropped below twenty degrees because, according to him, gloves were an admission of moral weakness.
Alexander trusted him.
The realization made him uncomfortable.
Trust had become a subject rather than a background assumption.
“Get every archived contract we have with Vale Strategic,” Alexander said.
Marcus didn’t move.
“Ortiz told you not to run your own investigation.”
“I heard her.”
“So?”
Alexander looked at him.
“So give her written authorization to access the contracts directly.”
Marcus nodded.
“That sounded painful.”
“It was.”
By early afternoon Maya Chen arrived.
She was forty, compact, severe, and carrying a canvas tote bag covered in cartoon dogs.
The tote undermined her in exactly the way Claire must have intended.
Lily woke the moment Maya entered.
She climbed from the chair and ran to her.
Not gracefully.
Not dramatically.
She simply collided with Maya’s knees.
Maya dropped the bag and crouched.
For a few seconds neither spoke.
Lily finally whispered into her shoulder.
“They took Mom.”
“I know.”
“You said you’d help.”
“I’m here.”
Alexander looked away.
Maya stood after Lily released her.
She looked at him as if assessing structural damage.
“You.”
“Hello, Maya.”
“You look expensive.”
“I usually do.”
“You also look terrible.”
“More recently.”
Her gaze went to the bassinets.
The sarcasm disappeared.
“Oh.”
She approached slowly.
May you like
Nora slept.
Mae had one fist near her cheek.
