Part 4
At 10:21, Evelyn forwarded it to Nathan Harrison.
The forwarding message contained only six words:
“Please review and advise on handling.”
Nothing unusual.
Four hours later, Nathan replied.
The archived preview showed:
“Regional matter. Richard is addressing employee issue.”
The rest of the message was unavailable because the attachment had not migrated.
At 4:03, Evelyn replied:
“Understood. I’ll close it here.”
Priya leaned back.
“That could be entirely routine.”
“Yes,” I said.
Margaret nodded.
“Except for the fake domain.”
“Exactly.”
We needed to know who paid for it.
The billing record tied to Evelyn’s recovery email was not enough.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Margaret looked uncomfortable.
“New York.”
Our headquarters.
“Working?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know I’m in San Antonio?”
“She knows you’re traveling. You canceled two calls yesterday.”
Of course she knew.
Evelyn knew where I was almost every day of my working life.
“Call her,” Priya said.
“Now?”
“Not an interrogation. Ask about the domain.”
I hesitated.
“Would that compromise anything?”
“We aren’t law enforcement. We’re determining whether an employee misused company identity. We can ask.”
I called.
Evelyn answered on the second ring.
“Good morning. I was beginning to think Texas had kidnapped you.”
Her voice sounded exactly as it always did.
Efficient.
Dry.
Familiar.
“Morning, Evelyn.”
“I moved your nine o’clock. Margaret has mysteriously blocked half your calendar, which usually means something expensive is happening.”
I glanced at Margaret’s video window.
She did not smile.
“Evelyn, I need to ask you about something from three years ago.”
“All right.”
“Do you remember an employee named Joanne Parker?”
Silence.
Not long.
Maybe two seconds.
“Yes.”
That surprised me.
“You remember her?”
“She sent a complaint from San Antonio.”
“What was it about?”
“Purchasing irregularities.”
I looked at Priya.
“Why did you tell me no Grand Crest employee had contacted headquarters about purchasing fraud?”
This silence was longer.
“When did I tell you that?”
“Three years ago.”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“I do.”
Evelyn’s voice changed slightly.
Not defensive.
Careful.
“Mason, I handle thousands of messages. I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m saying I don’t remember the conversation.”
“Do you remember forwarding Joanne’s email to Nathan Harrison?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember his response?”
“He said it was being handled regionally.”
“And you closed it.”
“That was procedure.”
“Did you ever send Joanne a response?”
“No.”
“Did you register a website domain called vance-hospitality.com?”
Silence.
Then:
May you like
“Yes.”
Margaret’s eyes widened.
