Chapter 6
Emma did not tell Adrian.
Not that night.
The decision made her uncomfortable for reasons she did not want to examine too closely.
She had spent a year demanding transparency from him.
Now she possessed information involving both of them and deliberately withheld it.
But there was a difference, she told herself.
She needed time.
The explanation sounded familiar enough to make her hate it.
Claire stood beside the office window while Emma ended the call with Luca.
“What exactly did he say?”
“That the Vale family knew who I was before Adrian met me.”
“Knew what about you?”
“I don’t know.”
“That seems like an important detail.”
“Yes.”
“Where is Luca?”
“Milwaukee.”
“Doing what?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
Claire folded her arms.
“And you’re going.”
Emma looked at her.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You have your I’m-going-to-do-something-dangerous-without-admitting-it face.”
“I don’t have one.”
“You absolutely do.”
Emma collected her bag.
“Luca asked me not to tell Adrian.”
“That is not the same as asking you to drive across state lines alone.”
“I’m not driving alone.”
Claire narrowed her eyes.
“No.”
Emma smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You’re the one who complains your life is boring.”
“My life is not boring. I have a dentist.”
“Get your coat.”
Two hours later they crossed into Wisconsin beneath a sky the color of dirty steel.
Luca had sent an address belonging to a twenty-four-hour diner outside Milwaukee.
They found him in a booth near the back.
He looked thinner than the last time Emma had seen him.
His hair had grown.
Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes.
But his gaze was clear.
Claire stopped beside Emma.
“That’s him?”
“Yes.”
“He looks like Adrian after being left in a dryer.”
Luca heard her.
For the first time, he smiled.
“You must be Claire.”
“Unfortunately.”
Emma slid into the booth opposite him.
“Are you sober?”
Luca’s smile vanished.
“Yes.”
“When did you leave treatment?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why?”
“I completed the residential portion.”
“Margaret said you signed yourself out.”
“I did.”
“That sounds different.”
“It is.”
Emma waited.
Luca rubbed his hands together.
“I was supposed to transition into another program. I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I found out Sloan had rented a storage unit under an alias.”
Claire sat beside Emma.
“And naturally you decided recovery could wait while you investigated organized crime memorabilia.”
Luca looked at her.
“I like her.”
“Most unstable men do.”
Emma intervened.
“The recordings.”
Luca reached beneath the table and lifted a backpack.
He placed an old digital recorder between them.
Not a cassette this time.
A scratched black device.
Emma did not touch it.
“Where did you get that?”
“Storage unit.”
“You said Adrian’s old house.”
“The storage unit contained boxes from the house.”
“Why did Sloan have them?”
“He worked for my uncle before he worked for me.”
Emma frowned.
“Raymond?”
Luca nodded.
Adrian’s uncle Raymond Vale had died six years earlier.
Officially, he had been a property investor.
Unofficially, Emma had learned enough after Sloan’s arrest to understand that Raymond had helped maintain the older Vale operations Adrian claimed to have dismantled.
Luca pushed the recorder closer.
“There are dozens of files.”
“What does any of this have to do with me?”
“I listened to three.”
Emma’s pulse quickened.
“Which three?”
“The ones labeled Donnelly.”
Her maiden name.
Claire stopped moving.
Emma looked at Luca.
“Play it.”
“I think you should know something first.”
“Play it.”
Luca hesitated.
Then pressed a button.
Static.
A chair scraped.
A man spoke.
Emma recognized Raymond Vale’s voice from old family videos.
“Donnelly girl started the housing charity.”
Another voice answered.
Adrian’s father.
Zachary Vale.
Dead eleven years.
Emma had met him twice before his death.
She remembered him as a large, quiet man who had watched people more than he spoke to them.
On the recording Zachary said, “Leave her alone.”
Raymond laughed.
“She’s asking questions about the Fulton properties.”
“She’s twenty-six.”
“She’s persistent.”
“So?”
“She spoke to Morales.”
Emma looked at Luca.
“Who is Morales?”
“I don’t know.”
The recording continued.
Raymond said, “If she gets into the tenant files, she’ll find the relocation payments.”
Zachary answered, “Then clean the files.”
“What about her?”
“Nothing.”
“Adrian met her.”
Silence.
Emma’s blood turned cold.
Then Raymond laughed.
“That was quick.”
Zachary’s voice hardened.
“I said leave her alone.”
The file ended.
Emma stared at the recorder.
Claire whispered, “When was that?”
Luca looked down.
“Nine years ago.”
Emma calculated automatically.
She and Adrian had met nine years ago.
At a charity zoning hearing.
She had spoken publicly against a redevelopment proposal that threatened to displace twenty-three low-income tenants.
Adrian had been sitting in the back row.
Afterward he had approached her in the hallway.
He had told her she was wrong about the financing.
She had told him his tie looked expensive enough to survive criticism.
He had laughed.
They had coffee three days later.
Emma looked at Luca.
“Play the next one.”
The second recording began.
Raymond again.
“She likes him.”
Zachary answered, “Apparently.”
“You think that’s convenient?”
“I think Adrian does what Adrian wants.”
“Maybe.”
A pause.
Then Raymond said, “If he marries her, she stops digging.”
Emma’s fingers went numb.
Zachary responded immediately.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if Adrian finds out you interfered in his personal life, you’ll spend the rest of yours regretting it.”
Raymond laughed.
“You raised an angry boy.”
“I raised a loyal one.”
The recording ended.
Emma stood abruptly.
The diner tilted.
Claire caught her arm.
“Bathroom.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re white.”
Emma walked outside instead.
Cold air hit her lungs.
She stood beside Claire’s car, breathing hard.
Nine years ago.
A hallway.
Adrian.
Coffee.
The first kiss three weeks later.
He had told her he admired that she argued with him without caring who he was.
Had that been real?
The question made her feel sick.
The diner door opened.
Luca came out but remained several feet away.
“Emma.”
“Did Adrian know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I genuinely don’t.”
“There’s another recording.”
Luca looked miserable.
“Yes.”
“Play it.”
“Maybe we should—”
“Play it.”
He handed her the recorder.
Emma pressed the file.
Adrian’s voice filled the cold parking lot.
Younger.
Sharper.
Unmistakable.
“Why are you asking about Emma?”
Raymond replied, “Because she’s becoming inconvenient.”
“What does that mean?”
“She has been contacting tenants.”
“She works in housing advocacy. That is literally her job.”
“She is looking at our properties.”
“Then give her accurate records.”
Raymond laughed.
“You really like this girl.”
“That is none of your business.”
“Everything involving this family is my business.”
“No. That belief is exactly why Dad stopped letting you make decisions.”
Silence.
Then Raymond said, “You know who her father was?”
Emma stopped breathing.
Adrian answered, “What?”
Raymond laughed softly.
“You don’t.”
The recording ended.
Emma stared at the device.
“My father?”
Luca nodded.
“What does my father have to do with the Vales?”
“I don’t know.”
Emma pressed buttons.
“No more files?”
“Not on that device.”
“You said dozens.”
“Most are about business. That was the only one mentioning your father.”
Emma’s father, Daniel Donnelly, had died when she was nineteen.
Heart attack.
Forty-eight years old.
He had worked as an accountant for a construction supplier.
Ordinary.
Kind.
Painfully careful with money.
He had taught Emma to balance a checkbook when she was twelve and refused to buy anything on credit except their house.
“What company did my father work for?” she asked.
Claire frowned.
“You know that.”
“Say it.”
“Midwest Structural Supply.”
Luca’s expression changed.
Emma noticed.
“What?”
“Vale Development bought materials from them.”
Her stomach dropped.
“When?”
“My entire childhood.”
Emma closed her eyes.
The cold no longer registered.
“Did Adrian know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Then why did you say I needed to hear this before him?”
Luca looked ashamed.
“Because I was afraid he would destroy it.”
Emma stared at him.
“Would he?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
That answer hurt differently.
Not because Emma believed Adrian would destroy evidence now.
Because Luca had been trained by years of family behavior to consider it possible.
Emma looked at the recorder.
“Give it to me.”
Luca hesitated.
“It needs to go to my attorney.”
“I’ll make a copy.”
“No.”
Her eyes lifted.
Luca swallowed.
“I mean no copies outside counsel. That was one of the conditions when I agreed to cooperate.”
“Then why did you play it for me?”
“Because it’s your life.”
Claire stepped closer.
“Luca, who else knows about these files?”
“My attorney.”
“Police?”
“By tomorrow.”
Emma looked at him.
“Good.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You’re not going to ask me to keep them private?”
“No.”
“Adrian might be implicated.”
“Then Adrian will answer for whatever he did.”
Luca stared at her.
Something shifted in his face.
Perhaps relief.
Perhaps grief.
“God,” he whispered.
“What?”
“I understand why he loves you.”
Emma looked away.
“Don’t.”
“I’m serious.”
“That does not help.”
“I know.”
Claire took the car keys from Emma.
“I’m driving back.”
Emma did not argue.
During the return trip, she stared through the passenger window.
At 11:16 p.m., Adrian called.
She let it ring.
Then again.
She answered the second time.
“What?”
His voice was tense.
“Luca contacted me.”
Emma closed her eyes.
“What did he say?”
“That he’s safe.”
“Good.”
“He also said he spoke to you.”
Claire glanced sideways.
Emma said, “Yes.”
A pause.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
She considered lying.
Not lying exactly.
Delaying.
She heard her own voice from a year earlier.
No more checking before truth.
Emma looked at the highway.
“I heard recordings.”
Adrian became silent.
“Of what?”
“Your father. Raymond. You.”
His breathing changed.
“What recordings?”
“They discussed me.”
“Emma, where are you?”
“On the highway.”
“Are you driving?”
“No.”
“Who is?”
“Claire.”
“Good.”
The word escaped with such immediate relief that Emma almost became angry.
Almost.
Then she remembered that concern was not automatically control.
“What did the recordings say?” Adrian asked.
“They knew I was investigating Vale properties before we met.”
Silence.
“They?”
“Your father and Raymond.”
Another silence.
Emma continued.
“Raymond suggested that if you married me, I might stop digging.”
“What?”
Adrian sounded genuinely stunned.
“You heard me.”
“I never knew that.”
“There’s more.”
“Tell me.”
“Raymond asked whether you knew who my father was.”
Adrian went silent again.
This silence was different.
Emma felt it immediately.
“Adrian.”
Nothing.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
“Adrian.”
“I need to see you.”
“No.”
“Emma—”
“No. Tell me now.”
“I cannot explain this properly on the phone.”
“That sentence is banned.”
He exhaled.
“Your father worked for Midwest Structural Supply.”
“I know.”
“My father owned part of it.”
Emma stopped breathing.
Claire looked over sharply.
“What?”
Adrian continued.
“Not publicly.”
Emma whispered, “How?”
“A silent partnership through another company.”
“When did you learn this?”
“After my father died.”
Eleven years ago.
Two years before Adrian met Emma.
Her voice became very quiet.
“So you knew before you met me.”
“Yes.”
The highway lights passed rhythmically across the windshield.
Emma felt strangely calm.
Dangerously calm.
“Did you know who I was when you approached me at the zoning hearing?”
“Yes.”
Claire muttered something under her breath.
Emma closed her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I recognized your name.”
“And?”
“I wanted to know why Daniel Donnelly’s daughter was investigating Vale properties.”
There it was.
No interpretation required.
No missing context.
“You approached me because of my father.”
“Yes.”
The word broke something.
Emma opened her eyes.
“Was our first coffee about investigating me?”
Adrian did not answer quickly enough.
She laughed.
It sounded terrible.
“Oh my God.”
“Emma.”
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
Claire gripped the steering wheel harder.
Emma stared forward.
Every beginning changed.
Not necessarily every moment after it.
But beginnings mattered.
The first joke.
The first coffee.
The first time Adrian had asked about her work.
She had thought he was interested in her.
He had been gathering information.
“When did that stop?” she asked.
“What?”
“When did I stop being an investigation?”
“Before the coffee ended.”
“Do not romanticize this.”
“I’m not.”
“You expect me to believe you fell in love in forty minutes?”
“No. I became interested in you in forty minutes.”
“You were already interested. Professionally.”
“Yes.”
Emma pressed her fingers against her forehead.
Adrian said, “I should have told you.”
She laughed again.
“You should have told me nine years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever intend to?”
“At first.”
“And then?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of losing me.”
“Yes.”
She almost screamed.
Instead she whispered, “You keep saying that like it explains something.”
“It explains why I did it. It does not excuse it.”
“I know your therapy vocabulary, Adrian.”
“That’s fair.”
“No, it isn’t fair. None of this is fair.”
Her voice broke.
Claire reached across and squeezed her hand.
Emma continued.
“My father. What happened?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“What do you know?”
Adrian hesitated.
She almost ended the call.
Then he said, “Your father discovered discrepancies in invoices.”
“What kind?”
“Materials billed but never delivered. Inflated contracts. Money moving between suppliers.”
“Was he involved?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Emma closed her eyes.
“How do you know?”
“Because my father kept records.”
“Why didn’t Daniel report it?”
“He did.”
Her heart stopped.
“To whom?”
“My father.”
Emma stared into darkness.
“What happened after that?”
“Daniel resigned.”
“He didn’t resign. He worked there until he died.”
“From the accounts connected to us. He remained with the company after my father sold his interest.”
“When?”
“About six months before your father died.”
Emma’s mouth went dry.
“Did your father threaten him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Raymond?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ever investigate?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After I realized who you were.”
Emma laughed through tears.
“So while we were dating.”
“Yes.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing suggesting your father’s death was anything except natural.”
She went completely still.
“I didn’t ask whether his death was suspicious.”
Silence.
Emma’s voice became barely audible.
“Why did you investigate his death?”
Adrian did not answer.
She understood before he spoke.
“Because you thought it might be.”
“No,” he said quickly. “Because Raymond had made a comment.”
“What comment?”
“He said Daniel Donnelly had caused enough trouble while he was alive.”
Emma’s blood turned to ice.
Claire looked over.
“What did he say?”
Emma could not answer.
Adrian said her name.
May you like
She ended the call.
For the remaining seventy miles, Emma did not speak.
