Chapter 6 - What Grace Remembered
The police took the home intrusion more seriously once Rachel gave them the recorded conversation.
So did federal investigators when the Prescott transaction entered the discussion.
The investigation expanded quietly.
Olivia hated quietly.
Quietly meant continuing meetings.
Answering emails.
Smiling at employees.
Pretending she wasn't wondering which people around her had been manipulated.
Grace noticed the pretending.
“You keep making your work face.”
Olivia looked across the breakfast table.
“My what?”
“Your work face.”
“What does that look like?”
Grace pressed her lips into a straight line and narrowed her eyes.
Olivia almost laughed.
“That is not my face.”
“It is.”
Natalie walked through the kitchen holding coffee.
“It absolutely is.”
Olivia ignored her.
Grace ate a strawberry.
“Are we still mad at Evelyn?”
Olivia chose her words carefully.
“Evelyn made some bad choices.”
“Is she going to jail?”
“I don't know.”
“Jordan says jail food is gross.”
Olivia paused.
“You've spoken to Jordan?”
“He came yesterday.”
Olivia stared at Natalie.
Natalie raised both hands.
“Melissa was with him. They dropped off Grace's school folder.”
Jordan had gone back near St. Matthew's.
Olivia felt irritated.
Then realized she had no right to dictate where he went.
“Where are they staying?”
Natalie shrugged.
“Didn't ask.”
Olivia looked at her sister.
“You didn't ask?”
“You want me to interrogate homeless people now?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Olivia didn't know.
That had become a recurring feeling around Jordan and Melissa.
She wanted to help.
Every version of help she imagined sounded like a wealthy woman rearranging somebody else's life because she could.
She asked Rachel instead.
Rachel gave her the name of a nonprofit family housing organization.
“Don't call and tell them you're a millionaire who wants special treatment for someone.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking about donating.”
“Later. Let the caseworker assess them normally.”
Olivia frowned.
“That seems inefficient.”
Rachel smiled.
“There is your work face.”
The organization found Melissa and Jordan eligible for transitional family housing.
There was a wait.
Olivia hated that too.
She could rent them an apartment by lunch.
But Melissa had made her boundaries clear.
So Olivia did something she was bad at.
She waited.
Meanwhile, Daniel traced the information Martin had received.
It formed an ugly map.
Olivia's travel.
Meetings.
Prescott contacts.
Board dinners.
Private calls.
Grace's schedule.
The Fairmont night.
Investigators also discovered Martin had contacted Prescott's chief financial officer two days before the acquisition collapsed.
They didn't yet know what was said.
Then came the break.
Prescott's CFO agreed to speak through attorneys.
Martin had warned him that Hayes Capital's internal forecasts were deteriorating and that Olivia was likely to lose board support.
He provided numbers.
Confidential numbers.
Some were real.
Others had been altered.
The goal had been simple.
Make Prescott fear that Olivia couldn't finance the deal.
Prescott withdrew.
Martin then pointed to the failed acquisition as evidence that Olivia's judgment had deteriorated.
Elegant.
Ugly.
Effective.
Rachel placed the report on Olivia's desk.
“He manufactured the crisis, then blamed you for the crisis.”
Olivia stared at the numbers.
“Charles knew?”
“We don't know.”
“Martin met him.”
“Meeting isn't conspiracy.”
“I hate lawyers.”
“You've mentioned.”
Olivia stood at the window overlooking Market Street.
“What happens if we can't prove Charles knew?”
“You deal with Martin first.”
The board vote was now six days away.
Martin was moving quickly.
Olivia needed something stronger than suspicion.
Then Grace supplied it.
Not intentionally.
Children rarely knew which memories adults desperately needed.
That evening, Grace was coloring at the dining table while Olivia reviewed photographs Daniel had taken.
Grace looked over.
“That's Mr. Martin.”
“I know.”
“He doesn't wear that coat when he comes to the blue building.”
Olivia stopped.
“What blue building?”
Grace kept coloring.
“The one with the big doors.”
“Grace.”
Her daughter looked up.
“When did you see Martin at a blue building?”
“When Evelyn took me.”
Olivia sat beside her.
“What did it look like?”
“Blue.”
“Yes, we've established that.”
Grace giggled.
Olivia tried again.
“Was it a house?”
“No.”
“Store?”
“No.”
“Office?”
“Maybe.”
“Where?”
Grace shrugged.
“There was water.”
San Francisco offered too many possibilities.
“Did you go inside?”
“No. Evelyn said wait in the car.”
Olivia felt anger rise.
“She left you alone?”
“For just a little.”
“How little?”
Grace held up all ten fingers.
“Maybe this many.”
Ten minutes.
Olivia pushed down her reaction.
“What did Evelyn take inside?”
“A bag.”
“What kind?”
“My old purple backpack.”
Olivia remembered donating old school bags.
Apparently Evelyn had taken one.
“What happened when she came back?”
“She didn't have it.”
Olivia called Daniel.
Within two hours, he had a theory.
Martin rented storage space near the Embarcadero in a converted warehouse painted dark blue.
Investigators obtained access through the proper legal channels.
Inside one unit, they found corporate documents.
Copies.
Printed emails.
Photographs.
Travel records.
A file labeled HAYES.
Another labeled BOARD.
And Olivia's missing external hard drive.
The one she had assumed had been misplaced during an office renovation.
Daniel called her just before midnight.
“There's something else.”
Olivia sat up in bed.
“What?”
“A folder with photographs.”
“Of what?”
“You.”
Her mouth went dry.
“Where?”
“Restaurants. Airport. Outside your home.”
“Grace?”
A pause.
“Some include her.”
Olivia stopped breathing.
Not because Martin necessarily intended physical harm.
Investigators still believed his objective was corporate leverage.
But intent suddenly mattered less.
He had tracked her child.
Photographed her child.
Collected her movements.
Olivia walked downstairs.
Natalie was asleep on the sofa.
Grace was upstairs.
Safe.
She stood inside the dark kitchen thinking of every afternoon she had arrived at school while checking email, barely looking up.
Jordan had looked up.
Every day.
Because people who lived without locked doors learned to notice who was nearby.
Her phone buzzed.
Daniel again.
Police are moving on Sloan tonight. Do not contact anyone.
Then Rachel called.
“You awake?”
“Yes.”
“They found payment records tied to Evelyn.”
“Good.”
“They also found communication with Charles.”
Olivia closed her eyes.
“What kind?”
“Enough to prove he knew Martin was trying to force you out.”
“Did Charles know the information was stolen?”
“We don't know yet.”
Olivia looked at the clock.
12:17 a.m.
Five days until the board vote.
“Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“Cancel it.”
“The vote?”
“Yes.”
“You don't control the full board schedule.”
“No.”
Olivia looked toward the stairs.
“But Charles does.”
Rachel understood.
“You're going after the chairman.”
“He invited Martin into my building while Martin was using stolen information to sabotage the company.”
“Careful.”
Olivia's voice went flat.
“I have been careful for fourteen months.”
Then another call appeared.
Unknown number.
Rachel said, “Don't answer.”
Olivia did.
“Hello?”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Martin Sloan's voice entered her kitchen.
Calm.
Familiar.
Almost amused.
“Still using other people to fight your battles, Olivia?”
She gripped the phone.
“Where are you?”
“You always ask the wrong question.”
“What do you want?”
“You know.”
“No. I knew who you were fourteen months ago. Apparently I underestimated what you'd become.”
Martin laughed softly.
“You stole my company.”
“You committed fraud.”
“I built that company.”
“And nearly poisoned it.”
His voice hardened.
“Enjoy your victory.”
“What victory?”
“You think the phone was the problem?”
Olivia froze.
Martin continued.
“The boy found one phone.”
Her stomach dropped.
“One.”
May you like
Then the call ended.
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