Chapter 7: The Cost of Leaving
“Tell me why you’re examining the Calumet Six manifests, Penny.”
The lieutenant’s tone was calm. That made it worse. He spoke as if I’d been caught with my hand in a drawer that belonged to him.
I kept my eyes on his.
“Because the entries don’t match.”
His gaze flicked toward the folder.
“Those are old freight records. Clerical discrepancies happen.”
“Then you can explain them.”
The lawyer stayed standing beside the table. Dominic didn’t move, but I felt his attention shift to me, waiting to see what I would do.
The lieutenant gave a faint smile.
“You’re leaving the company, aren’t you? You don’t need to get involved in something you won’t be here to understand.”
“I understand enough to know the same warehouse timestamp appears beside shipments with different dates and no receiving signatures.”
For a beat, his expression stayed smooth. Then his eyes moved to Dominic.
“Do you have a question for me?” Dominic asked.
“I have a question for her.”
“You’ve asked it,” the lawyer said. “This meeting is private.”
The lieutenant looked back at me.
“I’m trying to save you trouble.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
The quiet that followed pressed against the walls. I could hear the faint hum of the conference-room lights and the small, quick beat of my own heart.
Dominic finally stepped away from the window.
“Explain the timestamps,” he said.
The lieutenant’s jaw tightened.
“They could be batch entries. The system logs a group of records at once.”
“Could be?” I asked.
His gaze snapped to mine.
“You’ve worked in an office, Penny. You know records don’t always tell the whole story.”
“I know records should be checked before someone decides what they mean.”
The lawyer pulled out a chair but didn’t sit.
“Then let’s separate what we know from what we don’t. These copies contain inconsistencies. They do not prove that a shipment was diverted, or that anyone committed a crime. We need authentic records and a verifiable chain of custody.”
“Which is why I asked you here,” Dominic said.
The lieutenant’s attention turned to him.
“And you want her looking through them?”
“I want to know what happened.”
The answer came without hesitation. It wasn’t an explanation for his past, or a promise that he’d make the right choice now. But it was his answer, and the lieutenant seemed to hear the difference.
I placed both hands on the table, keeping them away from the folder.
“I want these materials preserved exactly as they are,” I said. “The copies, the notes, everything we’ve received. No one alters them, destroys them, or decides they’re harmless before we can verify them.”
The lieutenant gave a short laugh.
“You’re asking Dominic’s lawyer to preserve anonymous paperwork that may be fabricated?”
“I’m asking her not to let anyone bury it.”
The lawyer’s expression didn’t change.
“I represent Mr. Bellano, not Ms. Hart. I can document what my client has received and keep the copies in their present condition. But Penny should have independent counsel before making any decisions about the materials or her involvement.”
“Agreed,” I said.
Dominic glanced at me. “I’ll arrange—”
“No.”
The word landed harder than I meant it to. Still, I didn’t take it back.
“I’ll choose my own lawyer.”
His mouth closed. After a moment, he nodded.
“Your choice.”
The lieutenant’s smile had vanished.
“This is becoming ridiculous,” he said. “Dominic, we have an active problem with Raines. We don’t need a secretary turning a bookkeeping mistake into a crisis.”
“I’m not your secretary anymore,” I said. “My resignation takes effect at the end of the week.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then say what you mean.”
He stared at me as if he’d expected my voice to tremble. It did, just a little. I was frightened. I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. But fear didn’t make his version of events more believable.
He turned to Dominic.
“You’ve trusted me for years.”
“I know.”
“And now you’re entertaining this?”
“I’m asking you to explain the records.”
The lieutenant looked from Dominic to the lawyer, then back to me.
“I already did. They’re clerical discrepancies.”
“Then write that down,” the lawyer said. “Include how the matching timestamps were generated and who verified the receiving entries.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’ll have my explanation.”
“Please send it through counsel,” she replied.
He stayed where he was for another second, as though waiting for someone to tell him he could leave. No one did.
At last, he turned and walked out. The door clicked shut behind him.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
Dominic looked as if he wanted to say a dozen things. The lawyer spoke first.
“Do not confront him again without a clear reason and a plan. And don’t treat an explanation as proof merely because it’s written down.”
“I won’t,” Dominic said.
She returned the folder to the center of the table. “I’ll document what was reviewed and preserve my client’s copies as received. I’ll also discuss a preservation request for the relevant company records. Penny, keep your original materials unchanged and speak to your own attorney before handing them over.”
I nodded. The envelope with the anonymous material stayed in my purse. Knowing the lawyer had copies didn’t make the source trustworthy, but at least the pages wouldn’t quietly disappear from this room.
The meeting ended without an answer about Calumet Six, Victor’s midnight demand, or the ledger Dominic had admitted authorizing. The questions followed me out of the tower.
So did the lieutenant’s expression.
In the elevator, my phone buzzed. My roommate’s name appeared on the screen.
I answered before the doors opened.
“Hey. Is everything okay?”
There was a pause.
“I think so,” she said. “Something strange happened, though.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What?”
“An unfamiliar man called the bakery. He asked when you were coming to Iowa.”
The elevator doors opened onto the lobby. I stepped out and kept walking, though my legs felt suddenly unsteady.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. I said I didn’t know what he was talking about.”
“Did he give his name?”
“No. He said he was trying to confirm a delivery.” She sounded unsettled now. “I asked what delivery. He hung up.”
I stopped beside a pillar, out of the main flow of people.
“Did he know the town?”
“He asked if you’d still be arriving in the same town you mentioned before. I didn’t confirm anything.”
The town had come up only when I’d asked whether her offer still stood. I hadn’t told her about the pregnancy, the ledger, or the threats. I’d barely let myself think of Iowa as more than a place I could go.
“Did you recognize his voice?”
“No. Penny, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet.”
That was the truth, and it felt useless.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Don’t call him back. If he calls again, don’t give him any information. Can you do that?”
“Of course. But are you safe?”
I glanced toward the glass entrance. Through it, Chicago moved on as if nothing had changed: buses grinding past, people crossing the sidewalk, a courier balancing a paper bag against his chest.
“I’m safe right now.”
The answer wasn’t the same as saying I trusted the city. Or Dominic. Or anyone who could reach my friend by asking one quiet question.
“I’ll call you soon,” I said.
When we hung up, Dominic was standing a few yards away. He hadn’t come close enough to touch me.
“What happened?” he asked.
“My roommate got a call from someone asking when I’d arrive in Iowa.”
His face went still.
“I’ll put someone outside the bakery.”
“No.”
“Penny—”
“You can tell me what you know. You can offer help. You cannot send people to manage my life without asking.”
“I’m not trying to manage you. I’m trying to keep Victor away from her.”
“We don’t know it was Victor.”
“I know.”
“And we don’t know the caller’s identity.”
“I know that too.”
I watched him struggle with the answer he wanted to give. For once, he didn’t replace uncertainty with a command.
“I can take responsibility for this,” he said. “For the danger around you. For what I brought into your life.”
“You can take responsibility for what you did. You can’t take responsibility instead of me.”
His eyes dropped briefly to my purse, where the ultrasound photograph lay hidden with the anonymous papers.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to.”
I wanted to believe him. That was the problem with wanting: it could turn a careful answer into a promise before the person had earned one.
“I’m not leaving tonight,” I said. “Not until I know whether those records are real and my roommate is safe. That’s my decision. It doesn’t mean I’m staying for you, and it doesn’t mean you get to choose what happens next.”
“I understand.”
“And I’ll decide when I speak to her again. No one calls her on my behalf.”
He nodded once.
“Agreed.”
I took out my phone to message my roommate that I would call again soon. Before I could type, an unknown number appeared on the screen.
One new message.
May you like
I opened it.
You can stay in Chicago for now, Penny. We know which Iowa town you were planning to run to.
