Chapter 3 - The Secretary Who Remembered Everything
At 3:42 a.m., Clara found the first real break.
“Declan.”
He had been standing at the windows.
He came immediately.
“What?”
“Northlake isn’t receiving the money.”
Marcus looked over her shoulder.
“Then who is?”
Clara turned the monitor.
“Northlake receives it. Forty-eight hours later, nearly the exact amount leaves again.”
“Where?”
“Six companies.”
Declan studied the names.
Marcus recognized one.
“Lakefront Recovery.”
Declan’s expression darkened.
“What?”
Clara asked.
“That company belongs to Vincent Moreau.”
“Who is that?”
Marcus answered.
“A competitor.”
Declan looked at him.
“More than that.”
Twenty years earlier, Declan’s father and Moreau’s organization had fought for control of freight corridors along the Great Lakes.
An agreement had ended the conflict.
Neither side interfered with the other’s shipping territory.
If Sullivan had secretly funneled Shaw money to Moreau, the missing eleven million was only part of the problem.
Clara understood.
“He’s selling company information.”
“Probably.”
“Routes?”
“Contracts. Clients. Security schedules.”
She stared at Declan.
“You’ve had shipments disappear.”
He said nothing.
Clara remembered.
“Detroit. January.”
Marcus looked at her.
“How do you know about Detroit?”
“I rescheduled thirty-seven meetings after it happened.”
She turned toward Declan.
“Milwaukee in April. Cleveland six weeks ago.”
Declan nodded.
“They knew where your shipments would be.”
“Yes.”
Clara searched Northlake’s transaction history.
Then she stopped.
“What?”
Declan asked.
“These payments started three years ago.”
Marcus frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
Clara’s face lost color.
Three years.
The exact month she had joined Shaw Maritime.
Declan saw her reaction.
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because I hired you.”
Clara stared.
“What?”
“I chose your application.”
“You don’t hire assistants.”
“I hired you.”
“Why?”
Declan hesitated.
Marcus suddenly became interested in the coffee machine.
Clara folded her arms.
“Why, Declan?”
It was the first time she had used his first name that night.
He noticed.
“Your interview.”
“I interviewed with HR.”
“I watched the recording.”
“You watched my job interview?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You corrected the interviewer.”
Clara remembered.
A senior HR manager had mentioned Shaw Maritime operating twenty-seven terminals.
Clara had politely pointed out that the annual report listed twenty-nine.
“That’s why?”
“You noticed two missing terminals while nervous and interviewing for a job.”
Declan shrugged.
“I needed someone who noticed what other people ignored.”
Clara stared at him.
“So I was never just a secretary.”
“No.”
“Did everybody know except me?”
“No.”
“Good. That makes it much less insulting.”
Marcus coughed.
Declan ignored him.
“I needed someone Sullivan wouldn’t consider dangerous.”
Understanding hit Clara.
“You deliberately kept me invisible.”
“Yes.”
Her anger sharpened.
“You let them dismiss me.”
“I needed them to.”
“For three years?”
Declan’s jaw tightened.
“That was a mistake.”
Clara stepped back.
“I’m not one of your pieces on a chessboard.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
His answer was immediate.
“Because tonight I realized I’d made you vulnerable without giving you a choice.”
Before she could respond, Marcus’s phone rang.
He listened.
His expression hardened.
“What?”
Declan asked.
“The IT director is gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Apartment empty. Car abandoned at O’Hare.”
Clara closed her eyes.
Sullivan was cleaning up.
Marcus continued.
“But we found something.”
He handed Declan the phone.
A photograph showed a storage locker.
Inside were boxes of documents.
Clara enlarged one.
Her heart jumped.
“That’s Northlake.”
Declan nodded.
Marcus said, “And there’s a ledger.”
“What kind?”
“A handwritten one.”
Clara almost laughed.
Sullivan had hidden millions through digital systems—
and kept a paper record.
Declan looked at Marcus.
“Bring it here.”
Marcus left.
Clara remained beside the desk.
“You should sleep.”
Declan said.
“So should you.”
“I’m accustomed to this.”
“I’m accustomed to fixing your problems at three in the morning.”
His eyes settled on her.
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Silence changed between them.
For three years, Clara had known Declan as a controlled voice behind an office door.
Tonight she saw something else.
Exhaustion.
And concern.
“You really sent people to my mother?”
“Yes.”
“She’s going to notice.”
“They’re parked half a block away.”
“My mother notices everything.”
Declan almost smiled.
“That explains you.”
Clara’s phone buzzed.
A text from her mother.
Sweetheart, why are two enormous men pretending to read newspapers outside my house at four in the morning?
Clara showed Declan.
He stared at the message.
Then actually laughed.
The sound startled her.
Her phone buzzed again.
One of them has been on the same page for twenty minutes. Tell your boss they need better training.
Declan shook his head.
“I like your mother.”
“You’ve never met her.”
“I’m beginning to understand her.”
Then Marcus returned.
He carried a black ledger.
“Boss.”
Declan opened it.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Clara leaned closer.
Halfway down the third page, Declan stopped.
There was one name he clearly had not expected.
Marcus read it over his shoulder.
“Jesus.”
Clara looked between them.
“What?”
Declan turned the ledger toward her.
The name belonged to Richard Shaw.
Declan’s uncle.
The man who had helped raise him after his father died.
And beside Richard’s name was a payment.
May you like
$2,000,000.
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