Chương 7
“Yes.”
Julian waited.
Adrian’s next words came slowly.
“It came from executive administration.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
“Whose terminal?”
A long pause.
Then Adrian said, “Nathan’s.”
Julian did not speak.
Adrian said, “I checked twice.”
Grace watched Julian’s face.
Amara leaned against her mother’s chest, sleepy now, one hand still gripping the red wooden block.
Julian’s voice came out flat.
“Was Nathan’s terminal physically used, or were his credentials used remotely?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Find out.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try faster.”
Adrian let that pass.
“There’s something else you need to understand.”
Julian waited.
“The login happened at 2:14 in the morning.”
Grace looked toward him.
Julian said, “Nathan doesn’t work at two in the morning.”
“Usually, no.”
“Was he in the building?”
“Badge records say no.”
Julian’s expression shifted slightly.
“Then somebody used his terminal without entering through a controlled door.”
“Or the badge records were altered too.”
“Can they be?”
“With administrator access, sure.”
Adrian paused.
“But whoever did this wasn’t sloppy.”
Julian looked again toward Grace.
“Then why leave a trail?”
“That’s exactly what bothers me.”
The sentence settled between them.
A deliberate trail was not evidence.
It was a message.
Or a trap.
Julian said, “Keep digging, but don’t use the company network.”
“I already moved off it.”
“And don’t tell anyone else.”
“You think I’m eager to advertise that my dead father may be tied to yours?”
Julian ignored the bitterness.
“Call me when you know who physically accessed Nathan’s office.”
“Julian.”
“What?”
Adrian’s voice softened.
“If Claire took that ledger, somebody has spent years making sure it stays buried.”
Julian looked toward Amara.
Her eyelids had begun to droop.
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
Adrian continued before he could answer.
“If Grace has the key, she is not a witness anymore.”
Julian looked at Grace.
“She’s evidence.”
Grace heard it.
Her arms tightened around Amara.
Julian ended the call.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Grace said, “I hate that sentence.”
“So do I.”
“No, you don’t.”
Julian looked at her.
“You talk about people like positions on a board.”
“You think I’m enjoying this?”
“I think you know how to survive it.”
Her voice remained quiet because of Amara.
“I don’t.”
Julian’s anger rose, then faltered.
She was right about one thing.
He knew how to make danger procedural.
Doors locked.
Cars moved.
Phones changed.
Men stood in hallways.
People disappeared from schedules and reappeared under protection in apartments owned by companies that technically did not exist.
Grace had spent the last three weeks checking her deadbolt twice before putting her daughter to bed.
That was not the same kind of life.
“Where is the key?” he asked.
Grace’s face closed again.
Julian exhaled.
“Not because I want to take it from you.”
“That is exactly why you asked.”
“I want to move it.”
“No.”
“Grace.”
“No.”
Amara stirred at the sound of her name’s absence more than its presence.
Grace lowered her voice further.
“I hid it somewhere nobody connects to me.”
“People connected you to Claire.”
“They connected my apartment.”
“And now this house.”
“That doesn’t mean they know where the key is.”
Julian stepped closer.
“It means the circle is getting smaller.”
Grace looked down at her daughter.
Amara’s fingers had relaxed around the block.
Julian saw the decision forming before Grace spoke.
“If I tell you, you cannot send anyone without me.”
“No.”
Grace’s eyes hardened.
“Then we’re done.”
“You are not taking your daughter anywhere tonight.”
“I didn’t say tonight.”
Julian stopped.
Grace continued.
“Tomorrow.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether the people watching the gate are still alive by then.”
Grace stared at him.
Julian’s expression did not change.
She shifted Amara in her arms.
“Was that supposed to reassure me?”
“No.”
“Good.”
A faint, exhausted disbelief crossed her face.
“Because it didn’t.”
Julian looked at the child.
“Put her to bed.”
Grace hesitated.
“There’s a guest room upstairs beside the old nursery.”
The word nursery came out wrong.
Julian heard it.
Grace did too.
“I can keep her with me.”
“Of course.”
“And the door doesn’t lock from the outside?”
Julian’s eyes moved to hers.
“No.”
Grace nodded once.
She lifted Amara carefully.
The child woke enough to mumble, “My bread.”
Grace looked back at the sitting room.
The bread figure had been left on the coffee table.
Julian picked it up.
It had flattened slightly beneath Amara’s hand.
He held it out.
Amara took it without opening her eyes.
“Thank you, Mister.”
Then she rested her cheek against Grace’s shoulder.
Julian watched them leave with one of the female staff members.
Marcus appeared at the end of the corridor after they disappeared upstairs.
“You’re letting them stay?”
“Yes.”
“Housekeeper doesn’t trust you.”
“I noticed.”
Marcus leaned against the wall.
“You trust her?”
“No.”
“That seems healthy.”
Julian looked at him.
Marcus straightened.
“Sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Not especially.”
Julian walked back toward the office.
Marcus followed.
“Get me everything we have on Nathan for the last year.”
Marcus stopped.
Julian turned.
Marcus’s face had changed.
“What?”
“You want surveillance on your brother?”
“I want records.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Julian’s patience thinned.
“No, Marcus, I do not want you breaking into his bedroom and photographing his socks.”
Marcus’s mouth tightened.
“I’m asking because once we start treating him like a suspect, people notice.”
“Then don’t let them.”
“That works until it doesn’t.”
Julian said nothing.
Marcus had been with him long enough to say things other men would not.
Sometimes Julian valued that.
Sometimes he wanted to fire him for it.
Tonight was both.
“Pull travel, card access, company vehicle logs, expense reports, and meetings.”
Marcus nodded.
“No illegal surveillance.”
Another nod.
“Yet.”
Marcus looked at him.
Julian entered the office.
“Go.”
Marcus left.
Julian sat behind the desk but did not turn on the overhead lights.
The room remained lit by monitors and a lamp near the shelves.
May you like
His father’s photograph stood there.
Arthur Hale at fifty-eight, silver at his temples, one hand resting on Julian’s shoulder and the other on Nathan’s.
