Chương 9
David’s face changed.
Marcus noticed.
“You know him?”
“Former Cross family security counsel.”
Hannah’s stomach tightened.
“Works for Evelyn?”
“Worked for her years ago,” David said.
The woman continued. “The LLC moved most of the funds three days later.”
“Where?”
“Two accounts. We’re still tracing.”
“Any connection to Hannah?”
“None found.”
Hannah stared out the window.
Marcus said, “The signature?”
“We have a scanned release. Ms. Reed’s name is signed.”
“I never signed it,” Hannah said.
The woman paused.
“Ms. Reed is there?”
“Yes,” David said.
“We’ll need a known signature sample for comparison.”
“You’ll get one,” Hannah said.
After the call ended, Marcus swore quietly.
Hannah looked at him.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“My family’s speed.”
She waited.
He looked genuinely ashamed.
“The complaint at your job, the fake payment, the investigator, the NDA. We keep treating you like something to contain.”
“Your mother does.”
“I continued the investigation.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not pretending otherwise.”
Hannah watched the highway.
A few miles later she said, “Pull over.”
David looked in the mirror.
“You sick?”
“No.”
He took the next exit and stopped beside a gas station.
Hannah got out.
Marcus followed her.
She walked behind the SUV and stood with both hands on her hips.
Cars hissed past on wet pavement.
“I can’t do this.”
Marcus stayed several feet away.
“Do what?”
“Become your emergency.”
“You’re not.”
“I have known you thirty-six hours.”
“I know.”
“My mother is dead. My job is under review. Your mother hit me. Somebody forged my signature. A retired lawyer in Vermont just told me my mother was afraid of your family, and I’m sitting in a car with three men treating this like an acquisition.”
Marcus flinched.
David remained in the SUV.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” Hannah said.
“You don’t have to know.”
“That sounds like something people say when they do not have to live inside the mess.”
Marcus looked toward the gas station.
A man was filling a minivan while two children argued in the back seat.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel either.”
“You had a father.”
“Yes.”
“I had a lie.”
Marcus looked at her.
Hannah immediately wished she could pull the words back.
Not because they were false.
Because his face showed what she had ignored.
A father could be lost more than once.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Marcus put his hands into his coat pockets.
“He was good to me.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She accepted that.
“He came to every school thing. Even stupid ones. He learned enough about lacrosse to yell incorrect advice for six years. When I was nineteen, I wrecked a car and called him before I called anyone. He didn’t ask about the car until he knew I was okay.”
His eyes went down.
“I’ve spent two days learning he may also have let your mother spend thirty years afraid.”
Hannah leaned against the SUV.
“That doesn’t erase what he was to you.”
“It changes it.”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked at her.
“That is not the same thing as erasing.”
He nodded slowly.
A horn sounded on the highway.
Hannah said, “I need one day where nobody investigates anything.”
David rolled down the driver’s window.
“No.”
Hannah turned.
He looked apologetic but firm.
“Records disappear when people know they matter.”
Marcus said, “David.”
“She asked for honesty.”
Hannah stared at the investigator.
“You’re terrible at comfort.”
“I’ve been divorced twice.”
“That tracks.”
Marcus laughed unexpectedly.
Hannah did too.
It was inappropriate and brief and somehow saved the next five minutes.
They bought bad gas-station coffee and kept driving.
Two days later the airport cleared Hannah.
Badge logs showed she had never accessed client scheduling systems. The security complaint was classified as unsubstantiated, and the contractor that filed it withdrew the allegation after being asked for supporting evidence.
Ken called at 7:02 in the morning.
“Congratulations. You remain employable.”
“Dream achieved.”
“Come in at noon.”
“Why noon?”
“Because I covered your morning and I regret generosity.”
When Hannah arrived, Luis had taped a paper sign to her toolbox.
NOT CURRENTLY STALKING BILLIONAIRES.
She stared at it.
Luis came around the landing gear of a Citation.
“Too soon?”
“Way too soon.”
“Want me to take it down?”
“No.”
He grinned.
Hannah worked six hours without checking her phone.
At seven, she found fourteen messages.
Three were from Marcus.
One from David.
Two from an unknown reporter.
Six from numbers she did not recognize.
One from Aunt Diane.
One from Ken, sent while they were both at work, saying DO NOT TALK TO ANY REPORTER, which suggested Ken had recently learned what text messages were for.
Hannah called Marcus from the parking lot.
“What happened?”
“The payment story leaked.”
Her stomach dropped.
“To who?”
“Business press first. Now others.”
“Did you leak it?”
“No.”
“David?”
“No.”
“Your mother?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t know.”
She closed her eyes.
“What are they saying?”
“That an unidentified woman claiming to be my father’s daughter received a confidential settlement.”
“I didn’t receive it.”
“I know.”
“They’re going to find my name.”
“Yes.”
“Because somebody forged a settlement and now the fake settlement is news.”
“Yes.”
Hannah kicked the front tire of her car.
Pain shot through her toes.
She swore.
Marcus waited.
“What do I do?”
It was the first time she had asked him that.
He answered carefully.
“Nothing tonight.”
“Nothing?”
“Do not answer strangers. Lock your social accounts. Tell people you care about before they see garbage online.”
“I don’t have secret children, Marcus.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
She leaned against the car.
“What are you doing?”
“My company’s communications team wants a statement.”
“About me?”
“About the allegation.”
“What will it say?”
“That we are reviewing a private family matter and will not comment.”
“That sounds like I might be lying.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t say it.”
May you like
“What do you want me to say?”
Hannah looked across the employee lot.
