Chương 7
“I need the payment traced,” Marcus said.
“I’ve started.”
“How?”
“Your mother’s family office used the same outside accounting firm for years. I asked your general counsel to preserve any records connected to Hannah Reed or Claire Reed.”
Marcus looked up.
“You did what?”
“You told me last night to preserve evidence.”
“I meant the DNA material.”
“You said, and I wrote it down, ‘Nothing gets lost now.’”
David removed a small notebook from his breast pocket and flipped it open.
Marcus swore.
David closed the notebook.
“Your general counsel called me several unpleasant things, then did it.”
“Good.”
“Maybe.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your mother will know by lunch.”
“She already knows I’m looking.”
“Knowing and seeing lawyers preserve records are different experiences.”
Marcus looked toward the door his mother had used.
“Trace it.”
At 10:40 Hannah was still in bed, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling when someone began drilling in the apartment upstairs.
The sound came in bursts.
Three seconds.
Stop.
Five seconds.
Stop.
Then what sounded like a chair dragged across concrete.
She put a pillow over her face.
Her phone buzzed.
Ken.
Hannah answered.
“If this is you telling me I’m fired, give me ten seconds to put on coffee.”
“You’re not fired.”
“Okay.”
“Airport security got a complaint.”
She sat up.
“From who?”
“Cross family security.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What complaint?”
“That you accessed restricted client information.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“I checked your badge activity and the maintenance system before I called you.”
Hannah stood.
“Why would they say that?”
“Claim is you used work systems to identify Cross flight schedules and approach the family.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“I figured.”
“What happens now?”
“You stay off the floor until compliance talks to you.”
“Ken—”
“I know.”
“That’s my job.”
“I know.”
“How long?”
“Don’t know.”
Hannah walked into the kitchen.
The drawer was still open from the night before.
“Am I being suspended?”
“Paid pending review.”
That surprised her.
“Paid?”
“Union rep used a number of exciting words.”
Hannah leaned against the counter.
“Who made the complaint?”
“Name isn’t on the notice.”
“Evelyn.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“Hannah.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t call anyone from the family angry.”
“I’m not twelve.”
“Yesterday you got slapped by a woman beside a jet. I’m widening the range of possibilities.”
She rubbed her cheek.
“Fair.”
“Compliance will call.”
He hung up.
Hannah stared at Marcus’s number.
She called.
He answered on the first ring.
“Are you okay?”
“Your family just got me suspended.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Someone filed a security complaint claiming I used airport systems to stalk your flight schedule.”
“I didn’t do that.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“But you think my mother did.”
“I think the list of people who care enough to destroy my job is short.”
Marcus said something away from the phone.
A door closed.
“I’ll handle it.”
Hannah’s anger sharpened.
“No.”
“Hannah—”
“No. You will not call my employer and tell them what to do.”
“But the allegation is false.”
“Then I prove it’s false.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“That is not the same thing.”
He went silent.
Hannah opened the refrigerator.
Still nothing she wanted.
She closed it.
“Do you understand what happens if Marcus Cross calls a contractor at JFK and says, ‘This employee is innocent’?”
“I’m not asking them to take my word.”
“You’re asking them to care about your word more than mine.”
He exhaled.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Find out if the complaint came from your mother.”
“And if it did?”
“Tell me.”
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
“Hannah.”
“What?”
“This could affect your job.”
“It already affected my job.”
“I can help.”
“You can help by not making me into another thing you own.”
The line went quiet.
She regretted it almost immediately.
Marcus said, “I don’t own you.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying very hard not to act like I do.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“Are you always this difficult?” he asked.
Hannah looked at the broken drawer.
“My mother would have said worse.”
“I’m starting to wish I’d met her.”
The anger left so fast it hurt.
Hannah sat down.
“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”
By late afternoon, David had confirmed the airport complaint had come from a Cross security consultant who reported to Evelyn’s chief of staff.
Marcus called Hannah.
He told her exactly that.
She did not speak for several seconds.
“Can you send me proof?”
“Yes.”
“Send it.”
He did.
Hannah forwarded the email to her union representative and Ken.
Then she called Marcus back.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I hate saying that.”
“I noticed.”
She was quiet.
“David found Martin Bell,” Marcus said.
“The lawyer.”
“He says the withdrawal letter didn’t come from his office.”
Hannah stood.
“What?”
“He wants to inspect the original.”
“When?”
“He offered tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“He’s willing to come down.”
“No.”
Marcus hesitated.
“You want to go to Vermont?”
“Yes.”
“That’s four hours.”
“I know how maps work.”
“I can arrange—”
“If you say plane, I’m hanging up.”
“I was going to say car.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
“Of course.”
She almost heard him smile.
“Fine,” she said. “But David comes.”
“He was going to.”
“And no Evelyn.”
“Agreed.”
The next morning Hannah stood outside her building at six with a backpack, the document box wrapped inside a grocery bag because the sky threatened rain again.
Marcus arrived in a black SUV.
Hannah looked at it.
Marcus lowered the rear window.
“I didn’t pick the car to annoy you.”
“That makes it worse.”
David sat in front.
Hannah climbed into the back beside Marcus.
A paper bag sat between them.
“What’s that?”
“Breakfast.”
“I ate.”
Marcus looked at her.
She had not eaten.
“I brought two.”
“What?”
“Two breakfasts.”
“You brought two breakfasts in case I lied about eating?”
“I’m learning.”
She opened the bag.
Egg sandwiches.
“Which one?”
“They’re the same.”
“Good.”
For thirty miles they barely spoke.
May you like
David drove.
Marcus answered emails on his phone until Hannah asked, “Do you ever stop working?”
