Chương 10
Sophia leaned her head against the sofa. “Please sleep, Laney.”
Elena’s defiance weakened. She stood, walked three steps, then turned back.
“You are not leaving without me.”
“I’m not.”
“You promised.”
“I remember.”
Elena pointed at Julian. “And you.”
He waited.
“If she disappears, I will tell everybody everything.”
“What would you tell them?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
Julian inclined his head. “Good night, Elena.”
She went upstairs with Naomi.
Thomas closed the kitchen door after them. When he turned, his expression had hardened.
“We have a problem,” he said.
Julian looked at him.
“The woman watching the office is Carla Venn.”
Julian’s thumb stopped against his ring again.
Sophia recognized the name from nothing, but she recognized the reaction.
“Who is she?” she asked.
Thomas answered. “She works for Vincent Calder.”
Julian’s uncle arrived at the safe house just after dawn.
He did not knock.
The outer security team called Thomas, who called Julian, who stood in the hall buttoning a clean black shirt while Sophia watched from the doorway of the downstairs bedroom. She had slept for perhaps forty minutes. Morning light pressed gray against the windows.
“You said no one knew where we were,” she whispered.
“No one should.”
“Then how did he find it?”
Julian finished the last button. His tie remained on the dresser.
“That is what I intend to ask.”
Thomas approached from the front room. “He has one driver. No visible second vehicle. Team searched both men.”
“Let him in.”
Sophia stepped into the hall. “You’re letting him inside?”
“If I send him away, I learn nothing.”
“You could learn by not getting us killed.”
Julian looked toward the staircase. Elena slept upstairs with Naomi in the adjacent room.
“I will speak with him in the front room,” he said. “Thomas will remain between Vincent and the stairs. Two guards will stay with you.”
“No.”
“Sophia.”
“If he knows where we are, I need to hear what he says.”
“You need rest.”
“You don’t get to use concern to make me ignorant.”
Julian held her gaze.
Then he nodded once.
Vincent Calder entered carrying a bakery box.
He was sixty-four, compact and well dressed, with silver hair trimmed close around his ears and a navy overcoat dry enough to suggest someone had held an umbrella for him from car to door. His face bore traces of Julian’s family resemblance around the eyes, though Vincent’s were pale gray and gave the impression of always looking beyond the person in front of him.
He placed the box on the coffee table.
“Apricot pastries,” he said. “Your mother liked them.”
Julian did not look at the box. “How did you find this house?”
Vincent removed his gloves one finger at a time. “Thomas’s sister owns it.”
Thomas stood near the stairs. “That information is not public.”
“Property records are.”
“The house is held through a trust.”
Vincent smiled at him. “Then someone should review the trust.”
Sophia sat on the sofa with Julian’s coat around her again. It covered the hospital clothes and made her feel hidden, though Vincent’s gaze found every visible injury before settling on her face.
“This is Ms. Alvarez,” he said.
“You know who she is,” Julian replied.
Vincent’s attention returned to Julian. “I know Marcus Lane has been making errors.”
“He beat her.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“I knew he took a cleaning woman from the Red Hook property. I did not know he intended this.”
Sophia spoke before Julian could. “What did you think he intended?”
Vincent looked at her as if surprised furniture had asked a question. “To recover something that belonged to him.”
“It belonged to workers whose names he stole.”
“That remains to be established.”
“What is on the drive?” Julian asked.
Vincent turned toward him. “You have it?”
Julian said nothing.
Vincent’s eyes moved to Thomas, then to the locked metal box on the dining table visible through the open doorway.
It was a small movement.
Too quick for guilt. Too exact for curiosity.
Sophia noticed.
Julian did too.
“You knew it was a drive,” he said.
“Marcus told me.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“What time?”
Vincent paused to fold his gloves together. “Around eleven.”
“At eleven, Marcus believed Sophia still had it.”
“He was confused.”
“No,” Sophia said. “He wasn’t.”
Vincent looked at her again.
She adjusted the coat higher around her shoulder. “He asked where I moved it. Then he asked if I gave it to Julian. He knew it wasn’t with me.”
“Men under pressure repeat themselves.”
“You sound like you were there.”
Thomas shifted from the stairs.
Vincent smiled faintly. “Ms. Alvarez, I understand you have endured a terrible night. Confusion is natural.”
“My face is broken. My memory isn’t.”
Julian took one step closer to his uncle. “Why did Carla watch my office?”
Vincent’s smile disappeared.
“Carla watches many places.”
“She watched one of my buildings while Marcus held a woman connected to it.”
“I assigned her after hearing the drive might be there.”
“From whom?”
“Marcus.”
“At eleven?”
“Yes.”
“The vehicle arrived at ten eighteen.”
The room went quiet.
Vincent glanced at Thomas. “You are very precise this morning.”
Thomas’s voice remained flat. “It is morning because I was precise last night.”
Vincent looked back at Julian. “Marcus called earlier. I misspoke about the time.”
“You do not misspeak about time.”
“Everyone does eventually.”
“Who created the files?”
Vincent’s shoulders lowered slightly. Not surrender. Preparation.
“You have not opened it,” he said.
“No.”
“Then destroy it.”
Sophia gripped the coat.
Julian’s voice lost even the little warmth it had carried. “Why?”
“Because Marcus assembled records from several operations. Some are his. Some are ours. Some belong to people whose names should never appear beside ours.”
“You told me his accounting was contained.”
“It was.”
“You told me the worker schemes ended when I removed him.”
“They did within our companies.”
“Brightline?”
Vincent’s gaze flickered toward Sophia. “A subcontractor.”
“Whose subcontractor?”
“Several firms.”
May you like
“Whose?”
Vincent’s patience thinned. “This is not a conversation for her.”
