Chapter 4 - Twelve Dollars and a Name
I touched Dominic’s arm before remembering who he was.
Every story I had heard about him flashed through my head at once.
People did not grab Dominic Moretti.
Apparently, terrified twenty-two-year-old hostesses did.
He looked down at my hand.
I immediately let go.
“Sorry.”
“What?”
I pointed toward the window.
“The car.”
He did not turn right away.
That impressed me.
Instead, he looked at the reflection in the mirrored wine cabinet.
Across the street, the black sedan remained at the curb.
“Do you recognize it?” he asked Emily.
She followed his gaze.
All the color left her face.
“No.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You’re lying again.”
“I don’t know who owns it.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Emily swallowed.
“I’ve seen it.”
“When?”
“Outside my apartment.”
Mr. Bennett interrupted.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
Dominic finally turned toward him.
“Yes. It is.”
Bennett looked offended.
“You can’t seriously believe I have something to do with a random car parked on a Chicago street.”
“No.”
Bennett relaxed slightly.
Then Dominic added, “I believe random cars usually park legally.”
The sedan was beside a fire hydrant.
Its driver suddenly pulled into traffic.
Dominic took out his phone and typed something.
“Who are you calling?” Emily asked.
“No one.”
He slipped the phone away.
“What did you send?”
“A license plate.”
“To who?”
“Someone who can tell me who owns it.”
Emily rubbed both hands over her face.
“I shouldn’t have come inside.”
Sophie appeared beside her.
“You said we were staying together.”
Emily immediately crouched.
“We are.”
“You left the table.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sophie looked toward me.
“She showed me cake.”
“Tiramisu,” I said.
Emily gave me an exhausted smile.
“Dangerous.”
Sophie whispered, “Can we get one?”
Emily’s face fell.
Before Dominic could speak, I said, “It’s on me.”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
“Please.”
Her refusal softened.
“This isn’t because I feel sorry for you.”
She waited.
“It’s because I was awful.”
Sophie looked at her mother.
“Can she apologize with cake?”
Emily actually laughed.
“Apparently.”
I bought the tiramisu myself.
It cost fourteen dollars—two dollars more than Emily had possessed when she walked in.
That number stayed with me.
Fourteen dollars.
I had nearly let a child go hungry over less money than I spent on rideshares after late shifts.
While Sophie ate dessert, Dominic escorted Emily upstairs.
Mr. Bennett followed.
I was supposed to stay downstairs.
I lasted forty-three seconds.
Then I asked another hostess to cover the stand and went after them.
The banquet office was small and rarely used except for weddings and corporate events. There was a desk, an aging computer, and two filing cabinets.
Emily inserted the flash drive.
A password prompt appeared.
She typed.
Folders opened across the screen.
Payroll.
Vendor Records.
Insurance.
Distribution.
Dominic leaned forward.
Mr. Bennett stood near the door.
I remained in the hallway where technically I was not participating.
Emily opened a spreadsheet.
Rows of employee names appeared.
Some I recognized.
Then the list continued.
Hundreds of names.
“Who are these people?” Dominic asked.
“They aren’t people.”
Emily clicked several entries.
Each employee had a tax identification number, address, and direct-deposit account.
“All deposits eventually route into seven accounts.”
“Owned by?”
“Shell companies.”
Mr. Bennett laughed.
“You stole confidential payroll records and now want us to believe your conspiracy theory?”
Emily opened another folder.
Scans of signed documents appeared.
“Then explain these.”
His smile weakened.
I recognized his signature.
Dominic did too.
“Arthur.”
Bennett stepped closer.
“Electronic signatures can be copied.”
Emily opened an audio file.
Mr. Bennett moved instantly.
He reached for the keyboard.
Dominic caught his wrist.
Nothing violent.
Just a hand closing.
Bennett stopped.
“Don’t,” Dominic said.
Emily clicked play.
Static.
Then voices.
One belonged to Mr. Bennett.
The other I did not recognize.
“…move another hundred and forty through the warehouse payroll.”
“You said nobody checked those accounts.”
“They don’t.”
“What about the woman in payroll?”
A pause.
“Handle her.”
Emily stopped the recording.
My stomach turned.
Mr. Bennett stared at her.
“You recorded private conversations?”
“I left my phone on my desk.”
“You illegally—”
“You said handle her.”
“That could mean anything.”
She looked at him.
“Two days later my apartment was broken into.”
Dominic released Bennett’s wrist.
Mr. Bennett adjusted his cuff.
“This proves nothing.”
Dominic looked toward Emily.
“When was this recording made?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“When were you fired?”
“I wasn’t fired. I resigned that afternoon.”
“Why?”
“Because the man talking to Arthur in that recording came into payroll and asked where my daughter went to school.”
The air changed.
Even Mr. Bennett looked briefly uncomfortable.
Dominic’s voice became quiet.
“Who was he?”
Emily opened another file.
A photograph appeared.
The man stood outside a warehouse wearing a gray coat.
Dominic recognized him.
I could tell.
His face became unreadable.
“Who?” Emily demanded.
Dominic did not answer immediately.
“Victor Sloane.”
Mr. Bennett looked toward the floor.
Emily noticed.
“You know him too.”
Dominic nodded.
“Unfortunately.”
“What does he do?”
“He solves problems for people who don’t want questions asked.”
Emily stared at Mr. Bennett.
“You sent him to my apartment?”
“No.”
“Then why is he following me?”
“I don’t know.”
Dominic’s phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
Whatever message he received confirmed something.
“The sedan is registered to a fleet company.”
Emily’s shoulders fell.
“That tells us nothing.”
“It tells me enough.”
“How?”
“The fleet company belongs to Victor Sloane.”
Nobody spoke.
Downstairs, silverware clinked and diners laughed.
The ordinary sounds felt obscene.
Emily closed her eyes.
“I need to take Sophie and go.”
Dominic said, “Not to your sister’s.”
Her eyes opened.
“How do you know about Rachel?”
“I heard Sophie mention her.”
Emily looked frightened again.
Dominic understood.
“I’m not following you.”
“Someone is.”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
“Why should I trust you?”
He took a long time to answer.
“You shouldn’t.”
That surprised all of us.
“But right now,” he continued, “you know Arthur is connected to Sloane. You know Sloane found your apartment. And you know someone followed you here.”
Emily’s chin lifted.
“What are you suggesting?”
“A hotel.”
“I can’t afford one.”
“I can.”
“No.”
“Then consider it payment.”
“For what?”
Dominic looked at the screen.
“For finishing what Nathan started.”
Emily went completely still.
“What did my husband start?”
Dominic’s expression darkened.
“The same investigation you just walked into seven years later.”
She stared at him.
“And you never told me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
His answer came quietly.
“Because the morning after Nathan died, every file he had collected disappeared.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
Dominic looked at Mr. Bennett.
“All except one.”
Bennett’s face changed.
Emily whispered, “What file?”
Dominic answered.
“A list of seven names.”
He paused.
“Arthur Bennett was number three.”
May you like
And downstairs, Sophie screamed.
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