Chương 3
“There was a discrepancy in a freight report.”
“What kind?”
“An internal billing problem.”
“Was she responsible?”
“She found it.”
“Were you arguing?”
“Yes.”
“About the report?”
Declan saw Sarah gripping the edge of the desk while he accused her of withholding documents. He had believed her silence was a tactic. She had been trying not to vomit.
“Partly.”
“What was the other part?”
He did not answer quickly enough.
Moreno said, “Mr. Hale, I am not asking whether you consider yourself a decent person. I am asking what happened in a room where a pregnant employee collapsed with a suspected poison in her body.”
“I told her she had become unreliable.”
“Had she?”
“No.”
“You believed she had.”
“I believed she was hiding something.”
“She was.”
The ultrasound photograph remained inside his shirt pocket, its edge against his chest.
“Yes.”
Moreno closed her notebook halfway. “A crime scene unit is on the way to your office. Your security director says the floor has been sealed. I need your consent to collect the bottle, papers, handbag, and anything else relevant.”
“You have it.”
“I also need the access logs, surveillance records, personnel schedules, internal messages, and any records connected to the freight report you mentioned.”
“Our counsel will cooperate.”
“That usually means I’ll get three folders and a letter explaining why the fourth folder is privileged.”
“You’ll get what you need.”
She studied him for a moment, then reopened the notebook.
“Who benefits if Ms. Mitchell cannot speak?”
The answer came too fast.
“Thomas.”
“Because she accused him?”
“Because of the freight reports.”
“You called them an internal billing problem.”
“I may have understated it.”
“Already?”
Declan rubbed the cut in his palm.
“The reports showed cargo fees that didn’t match the declared shipments. Sarah thought someone was routing company money through maintenance vendors.”
“And you?”
“I thought she was wrong.”
“Why?”
“Because Thomas signed the approvals.”
Moreno looked down at her notebook, then back at him.
“That made you trust the reports?”
“It made me trust him.”
The emergency-room doors opened. A physician approached, still wearing gloves. She introduced herself as Dr. Anika Shah and asked whether Declan was family.
He hesitated.
“I’m the father of her child.”
It was the first truthful answer he had given without qualification.
Dr. Shah led him into a consultation room. “Ms. Mitchell is stable at the moment. Her heart rhythm is being monitored, and we’re treating her symptoms while toxicology confirms what she was exposed to and how much. The report she brought is concerning, but we need hospital testing before we draw conclusions.”
“What about the baby?”
“We have a fetal heartbeat. Obstetrics has evaluated her. Right now our priority is stabilizing Ms. Mitchell. Maternal health and fetal health are connected, but I don’t want to give you false certainty in either direction.”
“Can I see her?”
“She asked for her mother.”
Declan looked at the wall behind the doctor.
“Did she ask for me?”
“No.”
He nodded once.
Dr. Shah’s face softened without becoming kind. “She is frightened and exhausted. Give her some control over who enters the room.”
“I will.”
A police evidence technician arrived to collect the toxicology report from Declan. He handed it over after photographing the pages with his phone at Moreno’s direction. The ultrasound remained in his pocket. No one asked for it.
Elaine arrived wearing an old navy raincoat over flannel pajama pants and running shoes without socks. She was sixty-two, small, gray-haired, and moving with the rigid speed of someone who would collapse only after all necessary tasks had been completed.
She saw Declan from the far end of the corridor.
He stood.
She walked past him.
“Mrs. Mitchell.”
Elaine stopped but did not turn.
“She is stable,” he said.
“I heard.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That phrase covers a lot of territory in your life, I imagine.”
Declan accepted the blow because it was easier than defending himself.
Elaine faced him. Her eyes were the same blue as Sarah’s, though age and anger had sharpened them.
“She told me you ended it in a hotel room before sunrise and asked her to behave professionally at breakfast.”
“I said we needed boundaries.”
“You put your pants on while she was still sitting in the bed.”
Declan glanced toward Detective Moreno, who had moved discreetly away but remained within sight.
“I handled it badly.”
“You handled it like a man who has never had to wonder whether saying no would cost him his rent.”
“She could have said no.”
Elaine’s expression changed then. Not outrage. Disappointment.
“You really chose that sentence.”
Declan looked down.
“I never threatened her job.”
“That doesn’t mean her job wasn’t standing in the room.”
He had spent his adult life distinguishing between what he intended and what other people feared. Intent appeared in board minutes. Fear lived in hallways, stalled promotions, changed lunch plans, and the way an assistant checked a door before speaking.
“I cared about her.”
Elaine gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “You cared in private.”
A nurse opened the door and called Elaine’s name.
She turned away.
“Mrs. Mitchell.”
This time she paused.
“I didn’t know about the baby.”
“I believe you.”
It should have been a mercy. It was not.
Elaine entered Sarah’s room and closed the door behind her.
Declan remained in the corridor until Thomas called again.
He answered.
“Where are you?” Declan asked.
“At the office. Police are collecting half the floor.”
“Good.”
“You authorized access to company servers.”
“Yes.”
“Without counsel present.”
“Counsel is present.”
“I mean ours.”
“Whose counsel is in the building, Thomas?”
A pause.
“Don’t do this while you’re emotional.”
Declan watched a custodian guide a floor-polishing machine around the corner. The man nodded apologetically when the machine’s cord crossed Declan’s shoe.
“Did you poison her?”
Thomas exhaled slowly. “No.”
“Why did you enter the executive break room every morning after she filled her bottle?”
“I didn’t.”
May you like
“She says you did.”
“She is sick, frightened, and under the influence of medication.”
