Chương 3
“You saw him?”
“Not clearly.”
“Voice?”
“Yes.”
“Recognize it?”
She hesitated.
Malcolm caught that.
“Leah.”
“I said I don’t know.”
“No, you said you didn’t see him clearly.”
She looked at him then.
There it was. The old fight. It arrived between them with such familiarity that for one ridiculous second she was seventeen again and he was demanding to know who had dented the passenger door of her mother’s car.
She said, “This is why I didn’t call you sooner.”
His face hardened.
“You didn’t call me at all.”
“I tried.”
“The message didn’t send.”
“I know.”
“You contacted Owen.”
“Because Owen listens before he starts issuing commands.”
Malcolm leaned back.
The sentence landed cleanly because it was true.
Leah rubbed one thumb against the other.
“Grant found the phone before I could send the message. He threw it. I think it hit the cart.”
“What did he find out?”
She stared at the blanket.
“About the files.”
“What files?”
“Mercer files.”
Malcolm went still.
Not angry.
That came later with him. First came stillness.
“What Mercer files?”
She looked toward the closed door.
“Your vendor contracts. Consulting agreements. Renovation budgets. The things I asked you about in March.”
“You asked me whether I trusted Finance.”
“And you said yes.”
“I do.”
“You shouldn’t.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Start at the beginning.”
“No.”
“Leah.”
“I’m tired.”
“You just told me someone inside my company may be involved in whatever happened to you.”
“I told you your files are involved.”
“Then start talking.”
She closed her eyes.
Malcolm waited.
When she opened them, he was still there.
“You don’t know how to be a father when there’s a problem,” she said. “You become a chairman.”
“Tonight I kicked a man across a hallway.”
“Yes. Very paternal.”
“That man hit you.”
“I noticed.”
“He could have killed you.”
Her eyes moved away.
Malcolm regretted the words before the last one left his mouth.
Leah’s breathing changed.
Not much.
Enough.
He lowered his voice.
“What happened?”
She looked toward the window again.
“Grant didn’t start out like this.”
Malcolm said nothing.
“He didn’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You have a way of saying things with your forehead.”
“My forehead is fifty-six years old. It has earned opinions.”
A tired laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
It hurt her ribs.
She winced.
Malcolm leaned forward.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I know.”
That shut him up.
Leah let another minute pass.
“When Grant’s firm started having trouble last year, he didn’t tell me. He said work was stressful. He said a partner had made a bad call. Then he started asking about my trust distributions.”
Malcolm’s jaw shifted.
“I told him those weren’t his business. He apologized. It was believable.”
“Then?”
“Then he wanted to know whether Mercer Lodging was selling the West Coast properties.”
Malcolm stared at her.
That transaction had been confidential until six weeks earlier.
Leah continued.
“He knew numbers he shouldn’t have known. Not exact ones. Enough. I thought maybe I’d said something without realizing it. So I went back through messages. Emails. Everything.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew what you’d do.”
“What?”
“Exactly what you did tonight.”
Malcolm looked down at his hands.
They were still steady.
Leah’s were not.
“He asked me for a favor in January,” she said. “A vendor amendment. Briar House Consulting. It was already approved by Legal and Finance. He said someone had made a clerical mistake and the authorization needed my signature because I was still listed on the family oversight committee.”
“You resigned from that committee.”
“I know.”
“You signed it anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it looked routine.”
“You read it?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
She looked at him.
“No.”
Malcolm’s breath left his nose slowly.
“There. That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you become incapable of imagining that another person can make one stupid decision without forfeiting the right to be treated like a human being.”
He stood.
He walked to the window.
For several seconds, he looked down at the blurred traffic on Lexington Avenue.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
“What did the amendment do?”
“It changed payment instructions.”
“To where?”
“A different account.”
“How much?”
“Not enough for me to notice at first.”
“That isn’t a number.”
“Three hundred eighty thousand on that invoice.”
Malcolm turned.
“On one invoice?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
He stared at her.
“I found seven.”
The television next door erupted in applause.
Neither of them moved.
Leah continued.
“Some were consulting payments. Some were change orders. Different companies. Different properties. The same language showed up in the amendments. Tiny variations. Grant had copies he shouldn’t have had.”
“Where?”
“On his laptop.”
“How did you see them?”
“I was using it.”
“Password?”
“He left it open.”
Malcolm gave her a look.
She rolled her eyes, then immediately regretted it because the room shifted.
“Don’t make that face. I wasn’t breaking into the Pentagon. His laptop was on our kitchen table.”
“What did you copy?”
“Nothing then.”
“Then when?”
“A week later.”
“So you went back.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because one of the vendor names was wrong.”
“Wrong how?”
“Briar House Consulting didn’t exist at the address on the contract.”
“How did you know?”
“I went there.”
That caught him off guard.
“You went there.”
“It was a nail salon in Queens.”
Malcolm stared.
“The owner thought I was looking for a manicure. I got one because I didn’t know how to leave without feeling rude.”
Despite himself, Malcolm looked at her hands.
The polish was chipped now.
Leah lifted them a little.
“Rosewood.”
He sat down again.
“What happened after Queens?”
“I started copying things.”
“To where?”
“A drive.”
“Where is it?”
She did not answer.
“Leah.”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Why?”
“Because I still don’t know who was in that suite.”
Malcolm’s eyes changed.
She watched the realization settle in him.
“You think it’s someone close to me.”
“I know it is.”
May you like
“How?”
“Because Grant knew about discussions that never made it outside your executive office.”
