Chapter 10: No More Secrets
The car rolled after Martin’s sedan, close enough to follow but not close enough to prove anything.
My attorney reached for her phone.
“Don’t,” I said, watching Martin’s taillights shrink beyond the café window. “Not unless we know where he’s going.”
“We don’t,” she said. “And we’re not going to find out by following him.”
She wrote down what she’d seen: the time, the direction, the vehicle’s color and shape. The plate had disappeared in the glare of the headlights before either of us could read it. No name. No accusation. Just the facts we could stand behind.
I kept my hands flat on the table so I wouldn’t do something foolish with them—like run outside after a man who had already told us he was afraid.
“Should we call him?” I asked.
“Did he give you a number?”
I shook my head.
“Then we don’t go looking for him,” she said. “We document what happened and let him decide whether to contact us.”
The restraint felt like doing nothing. But chasing Martin would not make him safer. It might only make us easier to watch.
We waited inside until the street looked ordinary again. My attorney arranged separate rides, and we left by different exits. She asked me to check in once I reached the place I’d chosen to go. She didn’t ask where it was. I didn’t offer.
No Bellano car waited at the curb. No guard appeared at my elbow. Whatever Dominic had promised about respecting my choices, I meant to hold him to it.
When I was alone, I called him.
He answered on the second ring.
“Penny.”
“I’m safe. I’m not telling you where I am.”
“I didn’t ask.”
It wasn’t praise. It wasn’t trust, either. It was a line drawn between us, and for once he didn’t step over it.
“Martin gave us a date range and two shifts to check,” I said. “He didn’t bring records. His claims and that voicemail are still unverified.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Because I need facts from you. Not assurances that you’ll protect me. Facts.”
A pause. Then, “The lieutenant has run Calumet Six’s warehouse and freight operation for years. He had authority over the receiving side and the people who handled the paperwork.”
“Did you know that when I pointed out the missing signatures?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know records were being changed?”
“I knew some transfers were handled outside the usual paperwork. I knew the documents weren’t complete.” He exhaled. “I didn’t know what was moved, or who might have been hurt.”
“But you approved the transfers.”
“Yes.”
“And the companies collected fees.”
“Yes.”
“And you benefited.”
“Yes.”
His answers came without the defense I’d expected. They didn’t sound like remorse made useful. They sounded like facts he could no longer rearrange.
“What did you think the lieutenant was doing?” I asked.
“I told myself he was making the business run smoothly. I didn’t question how he did it.”
“You didn’t question him because the money kept coming.”
“I didn’t question him because I didn’t want to know enough to have to stop it.”
That landed harder than a denial. A denial would have given me something to argue with. Instead, there was only the empty space where responsibility ought to have been.
“You have spent weeks deciding what I should know and when I should know it,” I said. “First with my doctor. Then with your security people. Now with the records.”
“I know.”
“Protection without honesty is another form of control, Dominic.”
“I know that, too.”
“You don’t get to turn this into proof that you love me.”
“I’m not going to.”
“Good. Because it isn’t.”
“I know,” he said again. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m telling you what I should have told you before.”
I closed my eyes for a second. I was tired of hearing him say the right thing after he had already done the wrong one.
“Then keep going. What did you approve?”
“Transfers that didn’t have full receiving documentation. I approved them because I trusted the lieutenant, because the numbers worked, and because I didn’t ask what was missing. I can’t tell you that every entry in that manifest is real. I can’t tell you Martin’s account is true. But I can tell you I made it possible for bad records to pass through my company.”
The honesty didn’t make me feel safer. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to.
“Did you preserve everything after we agreed you would?”
“Yes. The copies from the review are still at the tower. Counsel has its own copy of the material you brought in.”
“Your lawyer’s copy?”
“Yes. Preserved as received. It doesn’t prove the manifest is authentic.”
“I know what it proves.”
“Do you want me to send you anything?”
“No. My attorney will handle any request. You don’t contact her unless she contacts you.”
“Understood.”
“And nobody follows me. Nobody calls my roommate. Nobody gets clever because you’re worried.”
“No one will.”
“You said that before.”
“I know.”
I heard the faint hum of an office behind him. Not the café. Not the street where I’d stood alone. Bellano Tower, where every person seemed to know more about my life than I’d chosen to tell them.
“Why are you telling me now?” I asked.
“Because you asked me for facts.”
A beat passed.
“I should have given them to you sooner,” he added. “I can’t undo that.”
“No. You can’t.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. I thought of the ultrasound photograph in my purse, the small gray shape I had once held close like a promise. It was still mine. The decision about what to do next was still mine, too, even if every powerful man in Chicago seemed determined to make it for me.
My attorney had said she would check in. I glanced at the clock and wondered how long it would take to make a safe plan feel like a life.
Then a sharp voice cut through Dominic’s silence, too faint for me to make out.
“Hold on,” he said.
I waited. There was a muffled reply, followed by a sound I recognized from the tower: a phone being set down hard against a desk.
“What is it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away.
“Dominic?”
“Security just called.”
“About what?”
“Someone broke into Bellano Tower.”
The blood seemed to drain from my face. “Was anyone hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did they get into the offices?”
May you like
Another pause. This one felt longer.
“They reached the records,” he said.
