Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Registry
The storm over Lake Michigan battered the floor-to-ceiling windows of Vincent’s private study, casting jagged shadows across the mahogany desk where stacks of digital printouts lay spread out like a crime scene.
I sat in a high-backed leather chair, a mug of untouched black coffee growing cold between my hands. For three hours, Vincent had walked me through the complex web of shell companies, dummy corporations, and shipping manifests that made up the legitimate face of the Hayes empire.
"Here," I said, leaning forward and pointing a trembling finger at a column of figures on page twelve of a financial audit report. "Look at this entry. This is the cleaning schedule for the executive wing."
Vincent leaned over my shoulder, his broad chest nearly brushing the back of my chair. His closeness was overwhelming, filling my senses while my brain tried desperately to stay focused on the numbers.
"What about it?" he asked, his breath warm against my ear.
"This isn't the schedule I worked," I said, tracing the lines with my fingernail. "Look at the dates. It says I was assigned to clean the forty-second floor every night last week. But I wasn't. I was reassigned to the third-floor accounting archives by Brian, my supervisor."
Vincent went completely still. "Brian."
"Yes. Brian told me there was a special project down in archives, so I spent all week down in the basement sorting old tax files. But look at the date of the elevator sabotage—the very night I was finally sent back up to the executive floor..." I looked up at him, my eyes wide. "Someone switched my rotation back on purpose. They wanted me on that floor when the elevator failed."
"To ensure a witness was present," Vincent finished for me, his voice dangerously cold. "Or to ensure that if the cable snapped, the blame would fall squarely on a disgruntled cleaner who 'happened' to be working late."
The realization settled over the room like a heavy shroud. I wasn't just collateral damage. I was a pawn in a meticulously planned chess match between Marcus Vance and whoever else was pulling the strings inside the corporation.
"Marcus didn't act alone," I whispered, the puzzle pieces locking together. "He needed someone inside human resources or operations to alter the shift rosters. He needed someone like Brian."
Vincent stood up slowly, walking over to the dark glass of the window where the reflection of the storm mirrored his grim expression. He reached into his vest pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed a single number.
"Miller," Vincent said into the phone when it connected. "Pull Brian Cooper out of his home. Bring him to the warehouse on Ashland. I want him awake when I get there."
He hung up before the other person could answer. He turned around, his piercing gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made it difficult to draw breath.
"You're coming with me," Vincent said.
I stood up, gripping the edge of the desk. "To an interrogation? Absolutely not."
May you like
"Yes, Claire," he said, stepping close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look into his face. There was no room for debate in his tone, but there was also an unmistakable undercurrent of respect. "If Marcus and Brian are tied together, you deserve to hear the truth with your own ears. Besides..." He reached out, his knuckles brushing a stray lock of hair away from my forehead with unexpected gentleness. "...you're safer right beside me than anywhere else in this city."
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