Chương 6
“You are one thumb movement away.”
She put the phone face down.
Ten seconds later she picked it up again.
One account had posted a blurred photograph from the foyer.
Claire in Marcus’s arms on the stairs.
Daniel saw it over her shoulder.
“Jesus.”
The image had already been shared thousands of times.
People had theories.
Affair.
Family fight.
Inheritance dispute.
A commenter claimed Claire was Marcus’s mistress.
Another corrected them and called her his daughter-in-law.
Someone else said Evelyn was Daniel’s mother.
Claire laughed despite herself.
“What?”
She turned the phone toward him.
Daniel read.
“My mother would return from the dead to sue them.”
Claire’s laugh turned painful against her bruised ribs.
Daniel sat beside her.
“Please stop.”
She handed him the phone.
He put it on the other side of the room.
For half an hour they watched a cooking show neither followed.
A man in an apron became furious because someone had overcooked a duck breast.
Claire found his anger comforting.
At six fifteen, Joanne Crane called.
She was sixty-three, a former bank executive with silver-framed glasses and a habit of waiting two seconds after other people finished speaking.
The silence made most people add information they had not intended to reveal.
“First,” Joanne said, “how are you?”
“Bruised.”
“And the baby?”
“Okay.”
Joanne waited.
Claire added, “They monitored us overnight.”
There it was.
The extra information.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Joanne said. “Second, I need to tell you what I’m doing before I ask you anything.”
Independent outside counsel had been retained by the audit committee, not management. A forensic accounting firm would secure relevant systems. Evelyn had been placed on administrative leave. Marcus had agreed that his access to the investigation would be limited.
Claire looked toward Daniel.
He heard the last part through the speaker.
“Agreed?” Claire asked.
“After some colorful language.”
Daniel’s mouth twitched.
Joanne continued.
“We’re preserving email, project ledgers, treasury records, access logs, security correspondence, and event records. We will need your laptop.”
“It’s company-issued.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I have files on it that aren’t related.”
“We’ll establish a review process.”
Claire pressed her lips together.
There were maternity notes, personal tax documents, and a draft list of baby names she had hidden in a folder called Office Furniture because Daniel had been snooping.
“I need to copy personal medical information.”
“You may do that with counsel present.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It is.”
Joanne waited.
Claire sighed.
“Fine.”
“Third, police contacted us.”
Daniel sat straighter.
“They want the guest list and security records,” Joanne said. “We’re preserving those separately.”
“Evelyn approved the cameras being turned off.”
“I know.”
“Do we know when?”
“Not yet.”
“Do we know whether foyer cameras were the only ones off?”
“Not yet.”
“Do we know—”
“Claire.”
She stopped.
Joanne’s voice softened.
“You are not conducting this investigation.”
Claire stared at the wall.
“I found it.”
“Yes.”
“I almost got killed because I found it.”
“Yes.”
“And now I’m supposed to hand over my laptop and sit here?”
“For the moment.”
Claire hated her.
Which was, she suspected, one reason Joanne was good at the job.
“What can I do?”
“Write down what you remember about the staircase. Don’t improve it. Don’t fill gaps. If you aren’t sure, say you aren’t sure.”
“I already told the police.”
“Then don’t change it to make it stronger.”
Claire looked at Daniel again.
He was watching her carefully.
“Do people do that?”
“All the time. Usually without meaning to.”
When the call ended, Claire went to bed at eight thirty and stayed awake until after midnight.
At one fourteen, the baby hiccuped.
Claire counted seventeen little pulses beneath her hand before they stopped.
Daniel slept with one palm resting on the sheet between them, not touching her.
At one twenty-six, Claire moved his hand onto her stomach.
He woke instantly.
“What?”
“Hiccups.”
He lay still.
Another pulse came.
Daniel exhaled.
“Okay.”
“You can go back to sleep.”
“I am asleep.”
“You’re talking.”
“I’m talented.”
She almost smiled.
The next morning brought the first contradiction.
Evelyn had not merely approved the camera shutdown.
She had requested an expansion of it.
The event planner’s original email asked whether photographers could be restricted from the west gallery and library because two donors did not want candid photographs.
Evelyn forwarded the request to security and added:
Disable interior recording in guest-access areas from 6:30 through 10:30. Foundation event privacy standard.
There was no foundation event privacy standard.
At least no one could find one.
Marcus learned this in Joanne’s office at nine forty-seven.
He read the email twice.
“I want to speak to her.”
“No,” Joanne said.
“I have known her for nineteen years.”
“That is precisely why you will not speak to her.”
“She could explain this.”
“She can explain it to counsel.”
Marcus looked at the lawyer sitting beside Joanne.
The lawyer’s expression suggested she had spent her entire career watching powerful men become offended by procedure.
Marcus disliked her immediately.
He respected her almost as quickly.
“Fine.”
Joanne slid another page across the table.
“Your name appears in the reserve transfer chain.”
He looked down.
An email from eighteen months earlier.
Evelyn: Treasury structure will need temporary flexibility to protect covenant compliance. Potentially sensitive classification. Recommend no board distribution until normalized.
Marcus’s reply:
Do what you need to do. Keep payroll and Lansing protected. I don’t want another fire drill.
Fourteen words.
He remembered writing them.
Not the day.
Not the context.
The tone was his.
“What happened that week?” he asked.
“We’re reconstructing it,” Joanne said.
Marcus read his own message again.
“She didn’t tell me reserve funds.”
“No.”
“So this proves nothing.”
The outside lawyer said, “It proves you were told there was a sensitive classification issue and directed her to proceed without board distribution.”
Marcus looked at her.
“You enjoy that sentence.”
“No.”
“You delivered it like you did.”
“I deliver most sentences like this.”
Joanne took off her glasses.
“Marcus.”
May you like
He leaned back.
His first instinct was to explain.
