Part 18
“Why?”
“He said people were filming.”
Daniel faced her again. “Your brother watched my wife fall and worried about the video.”
“He thought she had fainted.”
“He knew why you were arguing.”
“Yes.”
“He knew about the report.”
“Yes.”
Amelia asked, “Where are the missing pages?”
Vanessa’s face changed.
“What missing pages?”
“You said he showed you twelve. The report is forty-three pages.”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see the appendix?”
“No.”
“The shipping records?”
“No.”
“The email from Stefan Rusk?”
At the name, Vanessa looked away.
Amelia sat straighter despite the pain in her hip. “You know him.”
“He advised my father.”
“He brokered the reliquary.”
“I know who he is.”
“He also signed the transfer documents for the other two objects.”
Vanessa stood. “I should go.”
Nia’s voice sharpened. “Sit down.”
“I came to explain the fall.”
“You came because you didn’t want Victor or the museum speaking for you,” Amelia said. “That’s what your message said.”
Vanessa remained standing.
“Is he speaking for you now?”
“No.”
“Then tell me why Stefan Rusk frightens you.”
Vanessa looked toward Daniel, then at the phone, then back to Amelia.
“When my father died,” she said, “Victor found a storage invoice in his desk. It listed five crates in a bonded warehouse in Delaware. Rusk had placed them there under a foundation subsidiary.”
“What was in the crates?”
“I never saw them.”
“Where is the invoice?”
“Victor has it.”
“Does the museum know?”
“No.”
Amelia felt the room narrow.
“The three objects in my report came from that warehouse.”
Vanessa swallowed. “I thought they might.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because once I told you, it became real.”
Daniel said, “It was real before you told her.”
Vanessa closed her eyes briefly.
Nia asked, “Do you have any evidence of this invoice?”
“An email. Victor sent me a photograph years ago.”
“Still have it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out before you delete anything.”
“I haven’t deleted anything.”
“Good. Keep it that way.”
Vanessa left five minutes later. Daniel locked the door behind her and stood with his hand on the deadbolt.
Amelia remained on the sofa.
Nia said, “Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“What Vanessa told you changes the scope of this.”
“I know.”
“No, Amelia. Listen carefully. You are not going to investigate a warehouse. You are not going to contact Stefan Rusk. You are not going back to the museum. You are going to preserve records and let me speak to the appropriate authorities.”
“The museum has original documents.”
“Then we request preservation.”
“They can alter them.”
“They may already have.”
Amelia looked at Daniel.
He had not moved from the door.
“My report was on the server,” she said.
Nia was silent for a moment. “Was?”
“I uploaded the final draft the afternoon of the gala.”
“Can you access it remotely?”
“No.”
“Who can?”
“Miriam. General counsel. The audit committee administrator. IT.”
“Any copies elsewhere?”
“The paper copy Daniel secured. My notes. Some photographs.”
“Where are the photographs?”
“On my work phone.”
Daniel turned.
“Where is that?”
Amelia’s stomach sank.
“In my office.”
The museum placed Amelia on paid administrative leave that afternoon.
The letter came by courier. It said the leave was intended to protect her health and preserve the integrity of the internal review. She was instructed not to enter museum property, contact staff regarding the investigation, access digital systems, or remove museum records.
Her employee credentials had already been disabled.
Nia read the letter and said, “They are either very organized or very afraid.”
“Both,” Amelia said.
Miriam called at six.
Nia advised Amelia not to answer.
Amelia answered anyway.
For several seconds, neither woman spoke.
Then Miriam said, “How are you?”
“Stable.”
“And the baby?”
“Stable.”
“I’m glad.”
Amelia heard voices behind her, then a door closing.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“At the museum.”
“Are you alone?”
“Not entirely.”
“Is counsel there?”
“Yes.”
“Is Victor?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Amelia looked at Daniel, who sat across the room with his laptop open but was no longer pretending to read.
“My account is disabled.”
“That is standard while we review—”
“Don’t.”
Miriam stopped.
“Is my report still on the server?”
“I have been advised not to discuss records.”
“Did you read it?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Before the gala?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I intended to.”
“You came to the gala.”
“So did you.”
“I was working.”
“So was I.”
The answer was too sharp. Miriam softened her voice.
“Amelia, there are things you do not know.”
“That sentence has become popular.”
“I am trying to keep the museum from collapsing.”
“By hiding illegally trafficked objects?”
“By determining whether your conclusions are sound before they destroy an institution.”
“You taught me to write that report.”
“I taught you to be certain.”
“I am.”
“No. You are persuasive. That is not the same thing.”
Amelia gripped the phone.
Daniel stood, but she raised a hand to stop him.
“Did you alter the file?” she asked.
“What?”
“The report on the server.”
“No.”
“Did you remove it?”
“No.”
“Can you send me a copy?”
“I cannot.”
“Can you confirm the file still exists?”
Miriam exhaled slowly. “I cannot discuss this.”
“Then there is no reason for us to keep talking.”
“Amelia.”
“What?”
Miriam’s voice dropped. “Do not trust Vanessa.”
Amelia looked toward the front door.
“Why?”
“She has spent her entire adult life cleaning up after her family and calling it charity.”
“Is she lying about the warehouse?”
Silence.
“Miriam?”
“I have to go.”
The call ended.
Daniel crossed the room. “You were told not to answer.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because she would reveal more by trying not to.”
“And did she?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“She knows about the warehouse.”
“That was not what she said.”
“She warned me not to trust Vanessa instead of asking what Vanessa told me. That means she already knows Vanessa has something to say.”
Daniel considered it.
“That’s an inference.”
May you like
“Yes.”
“Nia said not to investigate.”
