Chapter 10: The Call Made At Five Eleven
The woman called herself Ruth. She would not give me a last name, but she agreed to sit with us in a crowded diner across from the records annex. We took a booth beside the front window. I chose the outside seat so neither she nor Emmett could block me in.
Ruth placed her phone face down on the table.
“I sent the messages,” she said.
“You saw the Navigator.”
“Yes.”
“You warned me away from the library.”
“I thought Dean would get there first.”
Emmett kept both hands around an untouched cup of coffee. “You were supposed to meet me at the gate.”
Ruth looked at him. “I saw Dean arrive. Then I saw Jillian running. The arrangement was already broken.”
“What arrangement?” I asked.
“I preserved records for people whose accounts were being changed without proper review. Mr. Carbone offered legal storage and distance.”
“Distance from Dean?”
“From anyone who could force me to delete them.”
Her explanation fit Emmett’s version without clearing him. “Why was the temporary credential created from his office address?”
Ruth’s attention moved to the window. “Because I used a remote connection he provided.”
Emmett said nothing.
“You gave her access,” I said.
“To a secured server.”
“That server made me look responsible.”
“It was not supposed to use your name.”
Ruth slid her phone across the table. On the screen was a photograph taken through the gate before dusk. Dean stood beside a sedan, holding a sheet of paper and speaking into his phone. The time stamp was 5:12.
“Dean came because he found the credential,” Ruth said. “He believed someone was using you to open files.”
“Then why chase me?”
“You had the drive. He thought you were working with Mr. Carbone.”
The waitress approached. All three of us fell silent until she filled our cups and moved away. Ordinary noise continued around us: silverware, a child asking for pancakes, a delivery truck idling outside.
I replayed Dean’s voicemail in my head. Others would say I ran because I was guilty. It had sounded like a threat. It could also have been a warning from a man who knew the accusation was already prepared.
“He demanded the drive,” I said.
Ruth nodded. “Because it contains the records he tried to freeze.”
“And the recording in my voice?”
“I don’t know who made it.”
Emmett finally lifted his coffee. “You know who supplied the source material.”
Ruth went still.
I leaned forward. “What source material?”
“Your consulting calls were archived,” Emmett said. “Words and phrases could have been assembled from them.”
“You knew that?”
“I suspected it after hearing the recording.”
“And you waited until now.”
“I needed Ruth to confirm where the files originated.”
The calmness I had mistaken for control now felt like selection. Emmett never gave me a fact until it became useful to him.
My phone rang. Dean’s name appeared on the screen.
I answered and put the call on speaker.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“You called the municipal office at 5:11.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Your name appeared on a credential opening restricted housing accounts. I tried to lock it before the changes spread.”
“Why did you chase me?”
“Because you ran out carrying the drive I was told contained the audit trail.”
“Who told you?”
Silence held for two breaths.
“Emmett’s office,” Dean said.
Across the table, Emmett did not move.
Dean continued. “Someone called from a number assigned to one of his retained rooms. They said you had agreed to deliver the drive and were backing out.”
“I never agreed.”
“I know that now.”
“Did you shout ‘Julian’?”
“No. I shouted Jillian. Someone else was near the driveway.”
Ruth closed her eyes.
I watched her. “Who was it?”
She reached for her phone, but I covered it with my hand.
Dean’s voice sharpened. “Don’t let Carbone take that drive. The original records show who built the credential, but the copy can be altered if it touches his system again.”
Emmett met my eyes. “That is precisely what Dean would say if he wanted sole control of it.”
For the first time, I believed both of them might be telling partial truths.
I ended the call before either man could turn the next sentence into an instruction. Then I removed my shoe beneath the table, loosened the bandage, and took out the flash drive.
Ruth stared at it.
“I’m not giving this to Dean,” I said. “And I’m not connecting it to anything Emmett controls.”
The records annex had public inspection computers isolated from outside networks. Leonard had mentioned that copied data could be examined there under staff observation.
I wrapped the drive in the clean part of Emmett’s handkerchief and stood.
“You’re coming with me,” I told Ruth.
Emmett rose as well.
“No,” I said. “You wait here.”
His expression changed by barely anything, but it was the first time I saw what his help looked like when I refused its terms.
Ruth followed me toward the door. Behind us, Emmett remained in the booth, watching the evidence leave his reach.
At the curb, Ruth stopped.
May you like
“There’s something on the drive you haven’t opened,” she said. “A gate recording.”
The pedestrian signal changed. I stepped into the crosswalk with the drive in my hand and Dean’s deadline twenty minutes away.
