Part 6
“Does he say why?”
“No.”
Daniel typed a reply.
“Grant works quickly,” she said.
“Or someone at the reception recognized me.”
“That is Grant working quickly with an extra step.”
Daniel put the phone in his pocket.
“I need to take the call.”
“Daniel.”
“I’m not leaving. I’m going into the bedroom.”
He paused at the hallway.
“Take pictures again in an hour. And don’t delete anything, even if you think it makes you look bad.”
The bedroom door closed.
Nora remained at the counter with the ice pack against her hip and the city moving below the windows.
At eleven seventeen, Julian called.
She almost did not answer.
“Grant has been suspended,” he said.
“For shoving me or for Saint Alder?”
“For the incident tonight. The board will address the rest tomorrow.”
“Who knows about the suspension?”
“Everyone who needs to.”
“That means everyone.”
“Probably.”
“Did he leave?”
“Yes.”
“With Elise?”
“No.”
Nora looked toward the closed bedroom door. Daniel’s voice came through the wall in calm, measured fragments.
“Julian, Grant may have records at his Lake Geneva house.”
A pause.
“Who told you?”
“Elise.”
“What kind of records?”
“She saw a folder labeled Saint Alder on an encrypted drive.”
Julian breathed out.
“I can’t search his home.”
“You can tell the lawyers.”
“I will.”
“He’ll move it.”
“I know.”
“Can the company revoke his access to its systems?”
“It has.”
“Then he knows you’re investigating.”
“He knew before I invited you.”
Nora sat straighter. “How?”
“I don’t know.”
“That answer is becoming expensive.”
“I am aware.”
“No, you’re becoming aware.”
Julian accepted the correction in silence.
Then he said, “There is something I should have told you earlier.”
Nora closed her eyes.
“Of course there is.”
“Paul Renner came to see me three months before he died.”
“What did he want?”
“He asked whether the Saint Alder files still existed.”
“What did you say?”
“That the retention policy required us to keep them.”
“And?”
“He said retention policies are written by people who assume no one is motivated to disobey them.”
“What else?”
“He asked if I believed the internal investigation.”
Nora’s grip tightened around the phone.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I believed the board had acted on the information available.”
“That wasn’t his question.”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me I had spent my life confusing distance with integrity.”
Nora stared at the dark window above the sink.
It sounded like Paul. Precise enough to wound, broad enough to deny.
“Why didn’t you call me then?”
“I told myself he was ill and looking for someone to forgive him.”
“And now?”
“Now I think he was looking for someone to stop him from dying with it.”
The bedroom door opened.
Daniel stepped into the hall. He had removed his jacket. His white shirt was wrinkled at the elbows.
Nora asked Julian, “Did Paul leave anything with you?”
“No.”
“Did he mention a safe-deposit box?”
“No.”
“Lake Geneva?”
“No.”
“His widow?”
“No.”
Daniel waited.
Julian said, “The board meets at nine. I want you there.”
Nora laughed once.
“You want me to walk into the same boardroom where they approved my settlement?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because this time I don’t want your account reduced to a memorandum written by someone paid to protect us.”
Daniel shook his head.
Nora saw it.
“I’ll call you in the morning,” she told Julian.
“Grant’s lawyers may contact you.”
“They already contacted Daniel’s employer.”
Julian was silent.
“How do you know it was Grant?”
“I don’t. That’s what makes it useful.”
“What happened?”
Daniel held out his hand for the phone.
Nora gave it to him.
“This is Daniel Reyes,” he said. “My firm received notice that a client believes I may possess material nonpublic information related to Mercer Urban.”
Julian’s answer was low and indistinct.
Daniel listened.
“No, I did not receive company information from Nora. I learned about the proposed review after the incident tonight.”
Another pause.
“I understand what you’re offering. That won’t solve the problem.”
He handed the phone back.
“What did he offer?” Nora asked after the call ended.
“To call my managing partner.”
“That might help.”
“No. It might make it worse.”
She removed the ice pack. The skin beneath the towel had gone numb.
Daniel sat across from her.
“My firm placed me on administrative leave pending a conflict review.”
The words were delivered evenly. That was how Daniel handled bad news: he made his voice calmer than the thing itself.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize yet.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know whether this is Grant retaliating or my firm doing exactly what it should.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I attended a private event with a person who may become a witness in a matter affecting a client.”
“You attended with your fiancée.”
“Yes. Which is why personal and professional conflicts become complicated.”
“Will they fire you?”
“I don’t know.”
She hated the answer because it belonged to him now.
Daniel looked at the marks on her arm.
“Go to the board meeting.”
“You just shook your head.”
“I shook my head because Julian wants to use your presence to demonstrate openness before he has done the hard part.”
“So I shouldn’t go.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re becoming difficult.”
“I’m trying not to manage your fear for you.”
The remark was gentle and deserved.
Nora got up, carried the melted ice pack to the sink, and emptied the water.
At midnight, she called Paul Renner’s widow.
Marianne answered on the sixth ring.
“I told you not to call again.”
“It’s Nora Vale.”
“I know who it is.”
“I received the note.”
“I don’t know anything about a note.”
“Grant knows I’m in Chicago.”
Silence.
Nora leaned against the counter.
“He assaulted me tonight.”
The silence changed.
“Where?”
“At Julian’s house.”
“Were there witnesses?”
“Yes.”
“Then call the police.”
“I’m calling you.”
May you like
“That is not the same thing.”
“Did Paul leave Saint Alder records in the Oak Park box?”
