Chapter 3: Everything She Already Knew
The Halcyon Legal office was on the fourteenth floor of a glass building downtown.
I arrived at 7:52 a.m.
in yesterday's clothes, a pharmacy splint on my finger, and a paper cup of coffee I had not tasted.
The woman who met me at the elevator was named Grace Holloway.
She was perhaps fifty, with reading glasses pushed up into silver hair and a handshake that was brief and firm.
"Thank you for coming, Mrs.
Mercer."
"Claire," I said.
"Claire." She held the conference room door open.
"Please sit."
The room had no windows facing the street.
A second man was already seated — younger, with a yellow legal pad and a pen he kept clicking.
Grace introduced him as Terrence, her associate.
He nodded once and wrote something down before I had said a word.
"I want to be transparent with you," Grace said, settling across from me.
"We've been conducting an internal review of Owen's procurement decisions for the past six weeks.
What you sent us last night confirmed what we suspected but couldn't yet prove."
"What did you suspect?"
"That Dana Vale's firm, Vantage Supply Group, has been receiving preferential scoring on sealed bids.
Owen controls the evaluation rubric for equipment contracts.
He has the authority to weight certain technical criteria — criteria that, by coincidence, Vantage consistently scores highest on."
Terrence slid a printed page across the table.
Three columns of numbers.
Bid scores, weighted categories, final rankings.
"Vantage won the last four major contracts," Grace said.
"Forty million dollars this cycle.
Combined value over the past two years is closer to ninety."
I looked at the numbers.
"Ninety million dollars."
"The folder you photographed contains the scoring sheet for the current contract.
Owen's handwriting is in the margin.
He adjusted two criteria weights after the initial submission period closed.
That is not permitted under our procurement policy."
"Did anyone else know?"
Grace and Terrence exchanged a look I was not supposed to catch.
"We believe Owen had an internal contact," Grace said carefully.
"Someone who flagged the review to him approximately three weeks ago.
We don't yet know who."
My coffee had gone cold.
I set it down.
"He texted me this morning," I said.
I unlocked my phone and turned it toward her.
She read Owen's message without touching the screen.
*"You made a mistake.
Delete that photo and this goes away.
Don't be stupid, Claire."*
Grace looked up.
"When did this arrive?"
"6:43 a.m."
Terrence was already writing.
Grace leaned back slightly in her chair.
"That text is an attempt to suppress evidence.
Your attorney needs to see it immediately."
"I already sent it to her."
Something shifted in Grace's expression.
Not surprise exactly.
More like recalibration.
"You sent it before you came here," she said.
"Yes."
She nodded once.
"Good." She folded her hands on the table.
"Claire, I have to ask you something directly.
Owen will know by end of business today that this office has been in contact with you.
He will assume you told us everything.
He may try to reach you again.
He may try to reach people around you."
"What kind of people?"
"Friends.
Family.
Anyone he thinks he can use to pressure you into staying quiet."
I thought of my sister, Margot, who still called Owen charming.
I thought of Owen's mother, who had sent me a birthday card every year for eleven years and would not believe a word of this.
"He'll go to his mother first," I said.
"She'll call me and tell me I'm destroying the family."
"Is that likely to affect you?"
I looked at the scoring sheet still sitting in front of me.
Ninety million dollars.
Two years.
Four contracts.
A folder left open on a nightstand because he had never once believed I was paying attention.
"No," I said.
"It's not."
Grace reached into a folder and produced a single document.
"We'd like your formal cooperation in the internal investigation.
This is not a legal compulsion — you are free to decline.
But your photograph, your medical records, and your account of last night are material to what comes next."
I picked up the pen Terrence offered.
I signed before she finished the sentence.
Grace walked me to the elevator herself.
Just before the doors opened, she stopped.
"One more thing," she said.
"Dana Vale.
Has she been in contact with you?"
I showed her the second message on my phone.
*"He told me you were already separated.
I think you should know — I'm not the first."*
Grace read it twice.
Her expression did not change, but her hand tightened slightly on the folder she was holding.
"Don't respond to her," she said.
"Not yet."
The elevator doors opened.
I stepped in.
"Grace," I said.
"What does 'not yet' mean?"
May you like
She met my eyes as the doors began to close.
"It means Dana Vale just became the most interesting person in this investigation."
