Chương 6
I stared at the photograph until Oliver's cry sharpened against my chest.
My first thought was that the image had been edited.
My second was worse.
What if it had not been?
I shifted Oliver into one arm and enlarged the photograph with my thumb.
The paper looked identical to the pages Julian had brought into the hospital.
Same font.
Same margins.
Same footer.
Same faint gray line running above the signature block.
But the page number read eighteen of twenty-one.
The page I had signed had been seventeen of twenty.
I knew because Naomi had made me photograph every page before I touched the pen.
My pulse started hammering.
The sender had included no name.
No explanation.
Only the warning and the image.
From the office, Julian's voice rose again.
"I don't care what Price says."
Richard answered something I couldn't make out.
My mother appeared in the living room doorway.
She took one look at my face and stopped.
"What happened?"
I handed her the phone.
Her mouth tightened as she read.
"Is that real?"
"I don't know."
"Call Naomi."
I already was.
Naomi answered with, "What did he do?"
"I got a photograph."
"Of what?"
I told her.
The silence on the line lasted long enough that I checked whether the call had dropped.
"Send it to me now," she said.
I did.
Oliver's crying had softened into breathless complaints.
Leo, apparently deciding his brother had the situation covered, fell asleep again.
Naomi spoke while typing.
"Do you still have the photographs you took yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Original files?"
"Yes."
"Don't edit them, don't crop them, don't forward them through anything that compresses metadata if you can avoid it."
"I emailed them to you last night."
"I have those."
Her keyboard stopped.
"Claire, this image alone proves nothing."
"I know."
"Good."
She said it gently, which made me realize how frightened I sounded.
"The sender may be trying to scare you, help you, manipulate you, or create confusion."
"Could Julian have swapped a page?"
"Anyone with access to the documents could have produced a different version."
That was Naomi's way of refusing to build a conclusion faster than the facts.
"Who handled the folder after I signed?"
"Julian."
"Then?"
"I don't know."
"Did Price prepare it?"
"I assumed his firm did."
"Don't assume."
The office door opened.
I looked up.
Julian walked into the living room carrying a laptop bag and a cardboard archive box.
Price followed him.
Richard was behind both of them.
Naomi heard the movement.
"Who's there?"
"Everyone."
"Put me on speaker if they approach you about the agreement."
I set the phone on the coffee table without ending the call.
Julian looked toward the screen.
"Calling your lawyer again?"
I held out my hand.
"Give me your copy of the agreement."
He stopped.
Richard stopped too.
Price's attention sharpened.
"Why?"
"Because I want to see it."
"It's mine."
"It's an agreement with my signature."
"You photographed it yesterday."
"The version I signed."
Something shifted in Richard's expression.
Price looked from him to Julian.
"What version is she talking about?"
Julian set the archive box down too hard.
"I have no idea."
I picked up my phone and held the anonymous photograph out where Price could see it.
He did not take the phone.
He leaned closer.
His eyes moved over the image once.
Then again.
"Where did you get that?"
"Text message."
"From whom?"
"Unknown number."
Julian stepped toward me.
"Let me see."
"No."
"Claire."
"No."
Price straightened.
"Do you have the executed copy with you?"
Julian's eyes stayed on mine.
"It's in the car."
"Go get it."
Julian laughed.
"You don't order me around."
Price's face did not change.
"Then consider it legal advice delivered with urgency."
Richard said, "This is nonsense."
Price turned toward him.
"Is it?"
Richard's stare hardened.
"I don't know what some anonymous person sent her."
"Neither do I."
Price pointed toward the photograph.
"But I know the document I reviewed did not contain that language."
The room went still.
Even my mother stopped moving.
Julian looked at Price.
"You reviewed the agreement."
"Yes."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that paragraph wasn't in the version my office received."
Richard folded his arms.
"Then somebody fabricated the image."
"Possible."
Price's tone remained calm.
"Which is why I want the original executed document."
Julian looked toward the front door.
For the first time since arriving, he appeared uncertain.
I watched him make a decision.
He grabbed his keys from the top of the archive box.
Richard said, "I'll come."
Price stepped sideways.
"No."
It was the first time I had heard authority in his voice.
Richard looked almost amused.
"Excuse me?"
"I want Julian to retrieve the document alone."
"Why?"
"Because he's my client."
Richard's face darkened.
Julian looked between them.
Something ugly and old passed through that look.
Not fear exactly.
Habit.
A son waiting to see which version of his father was about to appear.
Then Julian went outside without another word.
Richard stayed.
My mother sat beside me and took Oliver from my arms.
I had not realized how badly my shoulders hurt until she did.
Naomi's voice came quietly from the phone.
"Claire?"
"I'm here."
"I heard."
"Good."
Price looked at the phone.
"Naomi Chen?"
"Yes."
"I've heard of you."
Her reply came dry and immediate.
"That sounded ominous."
For the first time that morning, Price smiled.
Barely.
Then it disappeared.
"I reviewed a twenty-page draft transmitted to my office yesterday morning."
Naomi said, "By whom?"
Price glanced at Richard.
Richard's jaw tightened.
"By in-house counsel for Vance Development Holdings."
Naomi was silent.
"Name?"
"Martin Hale."
I knew the name.
Martin had attended our wedding.
He had sent Julian a bottle of bourbon when the twins' sex was announced.
Richard spoke.
"This is turning into theater."
My mother looked at him.
"You brought a lawyer and three SUVs to a recovering woman's house."
May you like
Richard ignored her.
Price said, "Did Martin Hale alter the document after my review?"
