Chapter 12
This felt like discovering fifteen years of memories had been used as reconnaissance.
I left the office shortly after six.
I did not go home.
I drove to my mother’s empty house in Chapel Hill.
She had been staying with my sister in Asheville for the month, and I needed somewhere Nathan would not expect me.
At 7:46, there was a knock at the door.
I froze.
Nobody knew I was there except Dana.
Then my phone rang.
Dana.
“Do not open the door.”
“Why?”
“Is Brynn there?”
I looked through the side window.
Brynn’s white SUV was parked at the curb.
“How did she know?”
Dana swore under her breath.
“Location sharing.”
I checked my phone.
Brynn and I had shared locations for years.
Vacations.
Late drives.
Safety.
I had forgotten it existed.
I disabled it immediately.
Brynn knocked again.
“Laurel.”
Her voice carried through the door.
“I know you’re inside.”
I did not answer.
“We need to talk.”
I texted Dana that I was recording.
Then I started the audio app.
Brynn knocked a third time.
“Please.”
That word almost made me open the door.
Not because I trusted her.
Because some ancient part of me still recognized her voice as belonging to the person I once called when something terrible happened.
Then I remembered she was the terrible thing happening.
I stayed where I was.
“Laurel, Rowe & Vale called me.”
Silence.
“They’re trying to blame me for something I didn’t do.”
I almost admired the speed.
Not regret.
Not apology.
Defense.
“You know me,” she said through the door. “You know I would never hurt your company.”
I looked at the invoices on my phone.
$186,000.
Apparently, I did not know her.
“Please open the door.”
I remained silent.
Then her voice changed.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
There she was.
The woman from Saturday’s phone call.
The woman behind the pity.
“You sit there judging everyone while pretending you’re better than us.”
Us.
I noticed the word immediately.
“Brynn,” I said finally.
Everything outside went quiet.
“You want to talk?”
“Yes.”
“Then answer one question.”
“What?”
“How many times were you inside my files?”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Then a sound.
One step backward.
“You’re crazy.”
“Forty-three.”
She did not respond.
I continued.
“Forty-three unauthorized accesses.”
“Laurel, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
Her breathing changed.
I could hear it through the door.
“Did Nathan tell you something?”
The question was so unexpected that I almost missed its importance.
Not: Why would Nathan know?
Not: What does Nathan have to do with it?
Did Nathan tell you something?
They were afraid of each other.
I leaned closer to the door.
“What could Nathan tell me?”
“No idea.”
“Then why ask?”
She stepped closer again.
“I need you to understand something.”
“I’m listening.”
“Whatever Nathan did with your passwords has nothing to do with me.”
I stopped breathing.
There it was.
Not a confession.
But close enough to change everything.
I said nothing.
Brynn realized it too late.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I think I do.”
She hit the door with the heel of her hand.
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking like you already know everything.”
I almost whispered my answer.
“I don’t know everything, Brynn.”
That was true.
“But I know enough.”
She left five minutes later.
Dana had listened through the recording line.
“That was useful,” she said.
“How useful?”
May you like
“Very.”
The next morning, Nathan arrived at my office before I did.
