Chương 3
Evan said, “Who are you calling?”
Vincent ignored him.
The call connected after four rings.
A woman answered, groggy but alert.
“Vincent?”
“Rachel. I need you.”
Rachel Kim had been Carter Meridian’s outside general counsel for twelve years. She did not enjoy calls after ten, and she had once informed Vincent that wealthy men did not become more legally intelligent after midnight.
“What happened?”
“I may have an internal fraud issue involving senior management and my wife.”
A pause.
“Your wife as suspect or victim?”
Vincent looked at Evan.
“I don’t know.”
“Do not touch anything.”
“I’m holding a notebook.”
“Then stop holding the notebook.”
Vincent looked down at Lily’s cream notebook.
He put it on the table.
Rachel said, “Who else is there?”
“Evan.”
Another pause.
Longer.
“Does Evan know you called me?”
“He does now.”
“Put me on speaker.”
Vincent did.
Rachel’s voice filled the room.
“Evan, are you represented personally by counsel in connection with anything involving Carter Meridian?”
Evan’s eyebrows rose.
“This is ridiculous.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
“Are you willing to remain where you are while we arrange independent preservation of relevant company devices and records?”
Evan looked at Vincent.
“Do I have a choice?”
Rachel answered before Vincent could.
“Yes.”
Evan rubbed one hand over his mouth.
“Then yes. For now.”
“Good. Vincent, don’t interrogate him.”
“I’m not interrogating.”
“You called me because you were about to.”
Vincent said nothing.
Rachel knew him too well.
“I’m getting dressed,” she said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Call IT security, but only through me. Nobody starts digging. Nobody forwards files. Nobody tips Finance. Nobody logs into Evan’s accounts. Preserve first.”
The line clicked dead.
Evan looked around the room.
“Excellent. We’ve officially lost our minds.”
Vincent sat again.
“Explain the payments.”
Evan gave him a tired look.
“Rachel just told you not to interrogate me.”
“I’m asking as your friend.”
“That’s worse.”
Vincent leaned back.
Neither man spoke for a while.
The dinner they had planned sat untouched between them.
Dry-aged steak.
Potatoes.
A dish of asparagus Evan had complained about because the club still overcooked it after twenty years.
They had been supposed to discuss a Japanese acquisition.
Twenty minutes earlier Evan had made a joke about the wine list.
Now he stared at his plate as if it belonged to another evening.
Finally he said, “I did not steal from you.”
Vincent watched him.
“I didn’t ask whether you stole.”
“That’s where this is going.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Evan looked up sharply.
Then away.
Vincent folded his hands.
“You’re anticipating my conclusions.”
“Because I know you.”
“That answer used to comfort me.”
Evan exhaled.
“The code in Lily’s notebook could be from dozens of internal reports. Mara had access. Finance had access. I had access. You had access.”
“Why was it printing at her house?”
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“Was Mara still receiving Carter Meridian documents?”
“Some, probably. She remains on two foundation committees.”
“One.”
Evan frowned.
“What?”
“She resigned from the education committee in February.”
A small mistake.
Not meaningful by itself.
Vincent filed it away anyway.
Evan picked up his water glass, discovered it was empty, and put it down.
“Fine. One.”
Vincent watched his fingers.
No tremor.
Evan had always been good with his hands.
At twenty-three he could sign a restructuring document while two bankers screamed at each other across the table.
At thirty-two he had negotiated the company through a liquidity crisis without ever raising his voice.
At forty, Vincent had trusted him more than he trusted some relatives.
Evan was thirty-three now.
It occurred to Vincent that he had known Evan for thirteen years, not twenty.
The relationship only felt older because Evan had been present for nearly every disaster that mattered.
Mara’s father dying.
Lily’s emergency appendectomy.
The strike in Ohio.
The cyberattack.
The miscarriage Vincent and Mara had never told anyone about except Evan because Evan had found Vincent sitting alone in a hospital parking garage at three in the morning.
Evan had brought coffee.
He had not asked stupid questions.
Vincent hated that memory now.
He hated himself for hating it.
The door opened.
Harris stepped inside.
“Sir?”
Vincent stood immediately.
“What?”
“Lily is fine. She asked for grilled cheese.”
Vincent stared at him.
Harris waited.
“That’s it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Evan looked down and gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
Vincent almost snapped at Harris for interrupting.
Instead he said, “Make sure they don’t burn it.”
Harris nodded.
As the door shut again, Evan said, “You still do that.”
“Do what?”
“Assume kitchens need executive supervision.”
Vincent looked at him.
Evan’s mouth bent faintly.
For three seconds, they were themselves again.
That was the worst part.
Then Vincent’s gaze dropped to the cream notebook.
The room changed back.
Rachel arrived forty-eight minutes later wearing dark slacks, a navy coat over a black T-shirt, and the expression of someone who had been promised an uncomplicated Friday night and was prepared to sue reality for breach of contract.
She carried no briefcase.
Only her phone and a yellow legal pad.
A digital forensics specialist joined her ten minutes later.
Evan objected to surrendering his company phone.
Rachel reminded him that participation was voluntary.
Evan asked what would happen if he refused.
Rachel said, “Then we document the refusal and the board decides what it means.”
He handed over the phone.
His laptop was at home.
His personal phone remained in his pocket.
Rachel did not request it.
That detail seemed to surprise Vincent.
“We don’t seize property,” she told him quietly. “We preserve what the company has a right to preserve.”
“I know.”
“No, you know movies.”
He gave her a look.
She ignored it.
The company phone was sealed in an evidence bag after a standard transfer record was created. Nolan signed. Evan signed. The specialist signed.
The notebook was more complicated.
May you like
Rachel crouched beside the table without touching it.
“Lily copied information from documents she says printed at Mara’s house?”
