Chapter 3 - The File With Her Name
“They stole only mine?”
We were inside Damian’s Beacon Hill townhouse now, although calling it a townhouse felt ridiculous.
The place occupied nearly half a block.
Security cameras covered every entrance. Men in dark suits moved through the first floor, speaking quietly into radios.
Damian removed his jacket.
Without it, the tattoos extending over his forearms became visible beneath his rolled black sleeves.
“Yes,” he said.
“That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“To you.”
“To Mercer.”
I folded my arms. “Explain.”
Damian looked toward Luca.
“Give us the room.”
Luca left.
I waited.
Damian poured water into a glass and handed it to me.
“I don’t need water.”
“You’ve been clenching your hands for ten minutes.”
I looked down.
He was right.
That annoyed me more.
I took the glass.
“Talk.”
“Silas Mercer has been trying to identify weaknesses around me for years.”
“And I’m a weakness?”
Damian went still.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what am I?”
He looked directly at me.
“The woman who prevented whatever was supposed to happen tonight.”
“That still doesn’t explain stealing my file.”
“Your file contains your address. Emergency contacts. Employment history.”
My stomach tightened.
“My mother.”
“Already handled.”
I stared at him. “What does that mean?”
“She’s safe.”
“You contacted my mother?”
“I sent two people to watch her building.”
“Without asking me?”
“There wasn’t time.”
I put down the glass.
“You can’t just reorganize my life because someone came near you with suspicious champagne.”
His jaw hardened.
“They didn’t come near me.”
“What?”
“They came near you too.”
Silence.
That landed differently.
I turned toward the windows.
“You should’ve left me at the clinic.”
Damian laughed once without humor.
“I should’ve noticed you two years ago.”
I looked back.
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
Before I could answer, Luca entered carrying a tablet.
“We found something.”
He placed it on the table.
Security footage appeared.
A hooded figure walked through Crosswell’s administrative hallway at 9:14 p.m.
“He knew the access code,” I said.
“Yes,” Luca replied.
“So someone inside helped him.”
Damian’s expression darkened.
The footage changed.
The intruder entered records storage.
Three minutes later, he left carrying a folder.
Mine.
But something bothered me.
“Go back.”
Luca rewound.
“Again.”
He did.
“Stop.”
The image froze.
I pointed at the screen.
“He’s limping.”
Damian leaned closer.
“Left leg,” I said. “Very slight.”
“Recognize it?”
“Maybe.”
I thought through hundreds of faces.
Then I remembered.
“Dr. Nolan.”
Damian looked at me.
“Our anesthesiologist?”
“He tore his Achilles last year. He recovered, but when he’s tired, his left heel still turns outward.”
Luca was already reaching for his phone.
Damian stopped him.
“No warning.”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Finding Nolan.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“He works with me.”
“That’s exactly why you’re not coming.”
“I know his routines.”
“And Mercer knows your address.”
“Which apparently means I live here now.”
A muscle moved in Damian’s jaw.
“This isn’t funny.”
“Neither is being ordered around.”
We stared at each other.
Finally, Damian said, “Fine.”
Luca looked shocked.
“You’re letting her come?”
“No. I’m acknowledging that physically preventing her would create an argument I don’t have time for.”
“Progress,” I said.
Damian picked up his jacket.
“Stay beside me.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Because you have a habit of walking toward problems.”
“I work in emergency medicine.”
“That explains everything.”
Twenty-five minutes later, we entered Crosswell through the private entrance.
The clinic was nearly empty.
Dr. Nolan wasn’t there.
His locker was.
Inside we found ordinary clothes, medical journals, protein bars—
and an envelope containing twenty thousand dollars.
Luca whistled softly.
I saw something else.
A photograph.
I picked it up.
It showed Damian entering the clinic three weeks earlier.
Someone had drawn a red circle around him.
On the back were three words.
Find his weakness.
I looked at Damian.
His expression didn’t change.
Then Luca’s phone rang.
He listened.
“Nolan’s car was found at Logan.”
“Flight?” Damian asked.
“No. He never entered the terminal.”
“So he abandoned it,” I said.
Luca nodded.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
My mother walking into her apartment building that afternoon.
Underneath it was a message.
You noticed the wrong man.
Damian saw my face.
“What?”
I handed him the phone.
He read it.
The room went silent.
Then another message appeared.
Tell Cross to give us the Harbor Crown contracts.
I looked at Damian.
“This isn’t about killing you.”
“No.”
“It’s leverage.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m the leverage.”
Damian’s eyes lifted to mine.
“No.”
His voice was calm.
May you like
Almost frighteningly calm.
“You’re the mistake they just made.”
