Chapter 5 - The Woman in the Photograph
By Monday morning, my sweater was online.
There were photographs of Nicholas guiding me across the ballroom, his hand at my back, my reindeer nose glowing with spectacularly poor timing.
The caption said I was his secret fiancée.
Another claimed I was a federal agent.
Tessa preferred that one.
“It makes your student loans seem mysterious.”
My hospital supervisor was less amused.
She called me into her office before my first appointment.
“I’m not asking about your personal life,” Denise said. “I’m asking whether anyone here might be at risk.”
I told her about the police investigation without embellishing.
She listened, then contacted hospital security.
No lectures.
No punishment for having been threatened.
I appreciated that enough to nearly lose my composure.
At lunch, Colin appeared outside the cafeteria.
Of course he did.
He wore the camel coat I had helped him choose and the injured expression he used whenever consequences arrived without consulting him.
“Audrey. We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
“You’re dating Nicholas Valenti?”
“I’m eating soup.”
“This is serious.”
“So is sodium.”
He stepped into my path.
I stopped.
Six months earlier, I would have explained.
I would have softened my refusal until he could mistake it for negotiation.
This time, I looked directly at him.
“Move.”
He moved.
I had made it three steps before he said, “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
That stopped me.
I turned.
“What does that mean?”
His face changed.
“Everyone knows about him.”
“Is that all you meant?”
“Yes.”
But his phone was already in his hand.
And he looked frightened.
I reported the interaction to Detective Ruiz, mostly because my tolerance for unexplained fear had dropped considerably.
She asked Colin’s full name.
“Colin Mercer. He works in commercial insurance.”
“For whom?”
I told her.
There was a pause.
“Thank you,” she said.
It wasn’t an answer.
That evening, Nicholas asked whether I would meet him somewhere public to discuss the foundation.
We chose a diner near the hospital.
Vivian sat two booths away with coffee and a newspaper she wasn’t reading.
Nicholas arrived without a tie.
I found this unnecessarily distracting.
He slid a folder across the table.
“The audit started this morning. The board suspended Graham’s access pending review.”
“Does he know?”
“Yes.”
“Was that safe?”
“It was documented. The auditors control the records now.”
Inside were program reports.
Dozens of applicants listed as successfully housed.
My mother was among them.
Beside her name was an apartment number.
A move-in date.
A signature that looked almost like hers.
Almost.
“She never lived there,” I said.
“I know.”
“Somebody took money for a home she never got?”
“It appears that way.”
I looked up.
“Did you ever visit these properties?”
His silence answered.
My anger surprised me with its force.
“You put your mother’s name on something and assumed everyone else would care as much as you did.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
No excuse.
That made it harder to stay angry and easier to tell the truth.
“People trusted that name.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you do yet.”
He accepted that too.
When the waitress came, he ordered coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich.
I stared.
“What?”
“You look like you negotiate over countries. Grilled cheese feels misleading.”
“My grandmother says I eat like a twelve-year-old with excellent credit.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
He smiled.
Then his phone rang.
He listened without speaking.
When he ended the call, the warmth had left his face.
“What happened?”
“Graham’s attorney says the missing funds were approved by me.”
He opened the folder again.
At the bottom of the first transfer was a signature.
Nicholas Valenti.
It looked convincing.
Too convincing.
I thought of my mother’s invented apartment.
Her almost-right signature.
May you like
Someone hadn’t merely planned to kill Nicholas.
Someone had arranged for the paperwork to bury him afterward.
