Chapter 3 - WHAT EVELYN KNEW
I stared at my wife’s name until the letters stopped looking real.
“That’s impossible.”
Aaron didn’t speak.
“Evelyn didn’t own companies.”
“She might not have.”
“Then why is her name there?”
“I don’t know.”
I grabbed my phone.
Aaron caught my wrist.
“Don’t.”
I looked at him.
“You call Victor right now, and whatever evidence exists disappears.”
“You think he knows about this?”
“I think somebody does.”
I pulled my hand free.
For two years, I had accepted one version of Evelyn’s death.
Rain.
A slick road.
A truck changing lanes too fast.
Her car went through a barrier on Sheridan Road and rolled twice.
The police called it an accident.
I called it the end of my life.
Now a shell company tied to stolen wages had her name in its records.
I went upstairs.
Her room was exactly as she left it.
I had ordered the staff not to change anything.
Her books.
Her perfume.
A sweater folded over the chair.
A silver hairpin on the dresser.
Grief is stupid that way.
You know a dead person isn’t coming back, but you still protect their things from being disturbed.
I opened her desk.
Empty.
Second drawer.
Stationery.
Third drawer.
Locked.
I had no key.
I broke it.
Inside were photographs, old receipts, two USB drives, and a small black notebook.
The first pages were harmless.
Charity schedules.
Design ideas.
Names of contractors.
Then the writing changed.
June.
Maribel.
Samir.
Tanya.
Luis.
Dozens of first names.
Beside each name: numbers.
Pay promised.
Pay received.
Difference.
I sat down hard.
Evelyn had found it.
Long before I did.
On the last written page, she had underlined one sentence three times.
VICTOR SAYS DANIEL KNOWS.
My throat closed.
I read it again.
VICTOR SAYS DANIEL KNOWS.
There was a date beneath it.
Eleven days before she died.
I heard footsteps behind me.
I spun.
June stood in the doorway.
I reached for the gun in my desk out of instinct.
She froze.
“Sorry.”
I lowered my hand.
“What are you doing here?”
“You told me not to come in today.”
“I did.”
“You also gave me seven hundred dollars.”
“And?”
She held out the envelope.
“You gave me too much.”
I almost laughed.
“You came back because of that?”
“It wasn’t mine.”
“It is now.”
“No.”
“June.”
“Mr. Blackwell, I don’t take money I didn’t earn.”
I stared at her.
Then at my dead wife’s notebook.
That sentence felt like an accusation aimed straight at me.
“Sit down.”
June hesitated.
I handed her the notebook.
“Do you recognize any names?”
She flipped through the pages.
Her eyes widened.
“Maribel.”
“Who?”
“She worked at the Drake property.”
“Worked?”
“She got fired.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Why?”
June swallowed.
“She complained about her check.”
“Anybody else?”
She pointed.
“Samir. Driver. Tanya worked banquets. Luis did maintenance.”
“What happened to them?”
“Samir quit. Tanya got fired. Luis…” She stopped.
“Luis what?”
“He had an accident.”
My pulse slowed.
“What kind?”
“Fell from a loading platform.”
“Which property?”
“The West Loop hotel.”
“Was he alone?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at me.
“Why does your wife have their names?”
“Because she was looking into the same thing.”
June went very still.
“She knew?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you?”
The question cut.
“She tried.”
“And you didn’t listen.”
Not cruel.
Just true.
I looked away.
“No.”
June closed the notebook.
“My mom always says there are two ways to hurt somebody. You can do something bad to them, or you can see something bad happening and decide it’s not your problem.”
I almost snapped at her.
Almost.
Then I remembered her eating cold rice off my floor.
“What else did Evelyn say?”
June asked.
I showed her the last page.
Victor says Daniel knows.
Her eyes lifted.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
The question would have gotten most people fired.
Maybe worse.
Instead I answered.
“I knew our companies squeezed people. I knew contractors cut corners. I knew some managers were ruthless.”
“But this?”
“No.”
June stared at me.
Then my phone buzzed.
A security alert.
FRONT GATE ACCESS — VICTOR HALE.
My eyes moved to the window.
A black sedan was already coming up the drive.
June whispered, “He’s here?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know I’m here?”
“I don’t know.”
The front door opened downstairs.
Then Victor’s voice echoed through the mansion.
“Daniel?”
June looked terrified.
I grabbed Evelyn’s notebook and shoved it inside my jacket.
“Go through the bathroom. Take the back stairs.”
“What about you?”
“I invited a thief into my home for fifteen years.”
May you like
I heard Victor climbing the stairs.
“I think it’s time I finally talked to him.”
