Chương 7
Call me from somewhere Emma cannot hear.
I stepped into the empty family consultation room across the hall.
Reeves answered on the first ring.
“We found Keene.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
My knees weakened enough that I sat down.
“Where?”
“At the association storage building.”
“What was he doing there?”
“He wasn’t doing anything.”
“What does that mean?”
“He was locked in.”
I stared at the blank whiteboard on the wall.
“For how long?”
“Based on his statement, since around ten thirty.”
“Who locked him in?”
“He says Diana.”
“Reason?”
“He confronted her about the financial records.”
“What did he find?”
Reeves went silent for a second.
Then he said, “Payments.”
“To whom?”
“A company called Covenant Compliance Solutions.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Neither had the board treasurer, which is part of the problem.”
“How much?”
“Just under eighty-six thousand over fourteen months.”
“For what services?”
“Enforcement consulting, security review, resident compliance.”
“That sounds made up.”
“It may be.”
“Who owns the company?”
“We’re tracing it.”
“You already know something.”
“I know the registered agent.”
“Who?”
“Wes Cole.”
I stood.
“Wes?”
“Yeah.”
“The maintenance guy who says Diana owes him fourteen thousand?”
“Same one.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It gets worse.”
“Of course it does.”
“Keene says Wes told him last week that he’d never heard of Covenant Compliance Solutions.”
I stopped.
“Then somebody used his name.”
“That’s one possibility.”
“What’s the other?”
“That Wes is lying.”
I walked to the window.
The parking lot lights had begun to come on.
“Where’s Diana?”
“We still don’t know.”
“Where’s Wes?”
“Still with Ortiz.”
“Then keep him there.”
“We have him voluntarily.”
“Does he know about the company?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because Keene gave us something before we talk to him.”
“What?”
“A flash drive.”
I waited.
“He copied the association ledger and invoice archive before Diana locked him in.”
“Good.”
“No, not good.”
“What?”
“One of the invoices isn’t for cameras or padlocks.”
Reeves sounded tired now.
“It’s for medical data acquisition.”
I gripped the window ledge.
“What medical data?”
“Resident health information.”
For a second I could not connect the words to anything real.
Then I saw Emma’s white pill bottle in the kitchen cabinet.
I saw Diana going through the drawer.
I saw the folder under her clipboard.
“Reeves.”
“I know.”
“No, listen to me.”
“I’m listening.”
“The folder Diana took has Emma’s cardiac records in it.”
The line went quiet.
Then Reeves said, “Robert, there’s one more thing on that invoice.”
I closed my eyes.
“What?”
“A resident name.”
I already knew before he said it.
“Emma Ramirez.”
I opened my eyes and stared through the consultation-room window at nothing.
“Say that again.”
“Emma Ramirez.”
“That invoice predates today?”
“By three weeks.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“For what amount?”
“Six hundred and forty dollars.”
“For medical data acquisition?”
“That’s the description.”
“Who approved it?”
“Diana.”
“Who got paid?”
“Covenant Compliance Solutions.”
“And the supporting document?”
“There’s an attachment.”
“What kind?”
“A resident risk profile.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“What does it say?”
“I’m not reading your daughter’s medical information over the phone.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And this is evidence.”
I leaned both hands against the window ledge.
“You just told me her name is on it.”
“I told you enough to keep you from walking back into your neighborhood blind.”
“What is a resident risk profile?”
“We don’t know if that phrase means what Diana says it means, what the invoice says it means, or something else entirely.”
“Does it list her condition?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
The word was quiet.
It still felt like somebody had slammed a door.
“How?”
“We’re figuring that out.”
“She never gave the HOA medical records.”
“I know.”
“I never gave them anything.”
“I know.”
“The school?”
“Don’t start building suspects.”
“I’m building sources.”
“You’re building an investigation.”
“I’m trying to understand how a woman who chained my daughter to a post already knew what could happen if she kept her in the heat.”
Reeves did not answer.
That silence gave me more than an answer would have.
“You see it too.”
“I see facts that are beginning to touch each other.”
“That’s a careful way to say it.”
“It’s the way I need to say it.”
I lowered my voice.
“If she knew.”
“Robert.”
“If she knew Emma had a heart condition and still prevented her from getting medication—”
“Stop.”
I turned from the window.
“Don’t tell me to stop.”
“I am telling you to stop because the next thing you say is going to become something you act on.”
The room seemed too small.
A box of tissues sat on the table beneath a poster explaining grief support.
I almost laughed at the placement.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stay with Emma.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“It is for her.”
The answer cut through me.
I looked toward the hall.
“Fine.”
“No calling Keene.”
“Fine.”
“No calling Wes.”
“Fine.”
“No driving to Diana’s house.”
“I said fine.”
“You say fine like a man loading a weapon.”
“My weapon is in my front yard.”
“That is the only sentence you’ve said tonight that made me feel better.”
I rubbed my face.
“What happens next?”
“We secure the HOA office, storage building, financial records, and Diana’s home if we get probable cause approved.”
“If?”
“Robert.”
“Right.”
“We’re also notifying the district attorney’s office because this is expanding beyond assault or unlawful restraint.”
“Fraud?”
“Potentially.”
“Identity theft?”
“Potentially.”
“Medical privacy violations?”
“Depends how the information was obtained.”
“And Diana?”
“We’re trying to locate her.”
My phone buzzed against my ear.
Another incoming message.
Same prepaid number.
“I’ve got another text.”
“Don’t open anything if it’s a link.”
“It’s a photo.”
“What photo?”
I lowered the phone and looked.
A printed spreadsheet lay on a scratched workbench.
Several names had been highlighted in yellow.
Some I recognized from the neighborhood.
Others I did not.
Beside each was a number.
Emma’s name appeared halfway down.
May you like
Next to it was 4.
At the top of the sheet, a heading read RESIDENT RESPONSE CLASSIFICATION.
