Chapter 7 - The BoxesBrooks did not ask me to come to Grant’s garage.
She told me investigators were pursuing the records and that I should continue sending any information I had through Priya. Waiting made me restless, but I understood why she kept me out of it. Grant was my husband, the company was my employer, and I had approved some of the reports they were examining. My memory mattered most when I could give a clear account of it.
I spent Monday and Tuesday doing that.
I wrote down when I had first questioned the fire door invoice, who had answered me, and why I accepted the answer. I listed each Mercy Row report I had approved without visiting the apartment in person. The company’s process allowed that for certain kinds of work, but I wanted investigators to know exactly what I had checked.
Priya read the account before I submitted it.
“You haven’t hidden anything,” she said.
“I still wish I’d done more.”
“You can tell them that too.”
On Wednesday, investigators recovered the boxes from Grant’s garage under a court order. Priya received a notice that records relevant to my employment were among them. The city’s investigation remained open, and Priya cautioned me that we would not see everything immediately.
We did learn enough to understand the pattern.
Sable Field Services had billed for fire doors, alarm repairs, and relocation assistance at Mercy Row. Original work orders in the boxes showed many of those jobs left incomplete. Other forms recorded payments to people who had never lived in the building. The lender’s audit logs confirmed that a replacement phone assigned to my account had approved the false vacancy certification from Mercer Urban’s office on Friday afternoon.
Grant’s account had approved the report afterward.
Those findings gave investigators answers to questions I had been carrying since the study. They also brought new questions. Grant had moved the original work orders before the draw was due. Simone controlled Sable’s payments. How much had each of them known about the other’s actions?
Simone tried to answer that herself.
She left a message with Priya saying she had documents that would prove Grant directed the false reports. She wanted to speak with me.
“You don’t have to meet her,” Priya said.
“I don’t want to meet her alone.”
We arranged a meeting at Priya’s office. Simone came with her own attorney and a paper folder. She looked tired. There was a crease at the shoulder of her coat as though she had slept in it.
“I told Grant the building wasn’t empty,” she said after we sat down. “He said we had to close the loan to keep the project alive.”
“What about the payments to your brother’s company?” Priya asked.
“Colin was a legitimate contractor at first.”
“At first?”
Simone opened the folder. Inside were copies of invoices with Grant’s handwritten approvals and several messages discussing the loan deadline.
I looked at one dated the week before the assault. Grant had written: Get Nora’s signoff or find another route. We cannot lose the draw.
My stomach tightened. I could hear his voice in those words.
Priya scanned the pages. “Have you given these to investigators?”
“My attorney is arranging it.”
“Then that’s where they belong.”
Simone turned to me. “Grant told me you would eventually sign. He said you always forgave him once you’d cooled down.”
I thought of the nights he had apologized for shouting, then asked me to stop making him angry. “You stood there on Friday,” I said.
She glanced at her attorney. “I know.”
“You asked him to continue.”
“I know what I said.”
For the first time, Simone had no explanation ready. Her attorney put a hand on the folder, and the meeting ended soon after.
Priya walked them out. I stayed seated until she returned.
“Some of those documents may be useful,” she said. “Her lawyer can provide originals and answer questions about them.”
“She wants me to say Grant forced her into all of it.”
“She may want a lot of things. You only need to say what you know.”
That evening, Marisol came to Daisy’s with a small envelope. She had found an old visitor log she had kept while arranging deliveries at our house. It listed Colin Voss visiting Grant at home several times, including the Thursday night the East Yard boxes were moved.
“I remembered because he spilled coffee on the rug,” she said. “Grant made me stay late to clean it.”
She also told me she had accepted a new job at a hotel. “They asked why I left. I told them the truth.”
“Did it cost you the job?”
“No.” She smiled. “The manager asked if I could start Monday.”
We ate dinner together, four women around Daisy’s little table. For a while we talked about Marisol’s new schedule and Micah’s science project. Then Ruth called with news from Mercy Row: the fire door had finally been replaced. She had watched the inspector test it three times.
I passed the phone around so everyone could hear her.
After Marisol left, I found Dad’s number on my phone. I wanted to tell him about the door. Before I called, a message from an unknown number arrived.
Tell your father to release the loan. There are older reports with your name on them.
There was no signature. I forwarded it to Priya and Brooks.
The older reports were real. I had already disclosed them. Whoever sent the message either did not know that or hoped I would still be frightened enough to change my account.
I called Dad.
“Ruth’s fire door is fixed,” I said when he answered.
He sounded surprised, then pleased. “That’s good news.”
“It is.”
May you like
I sat beside Daisy’s window and watched people cross the street below. The reports would be examined. My decisions would be examined too. I couldn’t control what someone might say about them.
I could give the investigators the truth while I still had the chance.
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