- Catriona -
My hands were shaking so hard that the papers slipped away and onto the floor. I could hear a whimpering sound and knew it was me, trying desperately to keep the terror and betrayal at bay. It couldn’t be. Dominick couldn’t have done this. It wasn’t him, wasn’t him, wasn’t him—
Only it was, wasn’t it? His filing cabinet, his apartment…his signature.
I didn’t have any memory of going back to the bedroom for my phone, but I must have, because I was on my knees again on the floor, taking careful pictures of each form. Dates and signatures. I kept everything in focus. Why was I taking pictures? Was I going to turn him in?
I couldn’t think about that right now. When I was done, I rested the phone in my lap and stared at the papers spread out around me. They had been organized by date, and I set the phone carefully to one side to put the forms back in order and slip them into the filing cabinet. I let the drawer slide closed on its own and resisted the urge to lean my forehead against the cool metal. The longer I stayed here, the more chance Dominick would come back, or a cleaning lady would come, or—
Fear moved me when nothing else would. I half-stumbled my way back into the bedroom and managed to get my clothes on clumsily. I couldn’t seem to tuck my blouse into my skirt, my hair was a mess, my makeup was gone. The shoes felt awkward on my feet; I had turned into a college girl, uncertain in her work outfits. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, even my habitual self-hatred, all the little whispers about my chubbiness, couldn’t dent the pulse of fear and the low ache of Dominick’s betrayal.
I stopped in the hallway, coat over my arm.
Betrayal? I wanted to laugh. Dominick hadn’t betrayed me. Dominick had never pretended he was anything other than what he was. Dominick hardly cared enough about me to betray me. I wondered if he was going to have me killed when he figured out it was me who had turned him in. Probably. He’d killed Kelly, hadn’t he?
The hallway spun, and I reached out to steady myself. I was still there, trying desperately to stay upright, when the door to the apartment opened and the driver poked his head inside. What he thought to see me like that, I didn’t know, but he was gentle as he led me downstairs, and I leaned on his arm gratefully. He was being nice, far nicer than I deserved, and shame wormed deep inside me—this man clearly thought I was overcome with fear for Dominick. He didn’t know how low I was. How untrustworthy.
When the car finally drew to a halt outside my house and the driver helped me out of the back seat, I was with it enough to murmur a thank you. He didn’t pull away until I’d managed to get into the building, and it was only in the elevator that I slumped back against the wall, hands over my eyes. A sob escaped me, a little sound like a child might make, and I clenched one hand until the nails drove into my skin.
The hallway was blessedly empty; I didn’t think I could have dealt with Nate right around now. I took a long shower in my own bathroom, brushed my hair out until it gleamed, and then sat down at the table, wrapped up in a bathrobe, and opened my laptop.
I was careful, methodical. I was always careful and methodical—that’s what got me the job at the newspaper. That’s what got Edward’s attention. That was what was going to make my career, if it didn’t get me killed. I read and requeried the search engines, bringing up papers we’d all skimmed over while we were first investigating Ellison Corp. This time, I read them more carefully. It was difficult to find these types of laws and articles, and more difficult to understand them, but I made my way through one term at a time, and the picture came into chilling focus.
We don’t need more clients, I remembered Emma telling me. They had all the contracts they needed at Ellison Corp. And I was beginning to think they had only one client.
We
My hands were shaking so hard that the papers slipped away and onto the floor. I could hear a whimpering sound and knew it was me, trying desperately to keep the terror and betrayal at bay. It couldn’t be. Dominick couldn’t have done this. It wasn’t him, wasn’t him, wasn’t him—
Only it was, wasn’t it? His filing cabinet, his apartment…his signature.
I didn’t have any memory of going back to the bedroom for my phone, but I must have, because I was on my knees again on the floor, taking careful pictures of each form. Dates and signatures. I kept everything in focus. Why was I taking pictures? Was I going to turn him in?
I couldn’t think about that right now. When I was done, I rested the phone in my lap and stared at the papers spread out around me. They had been organized by date, and I set the phone carefully to one side to put the forms back in order and slip them into the filing cabinet. I let the drawer slide closed on its own and resisted the urge to lean my forehead against the cool metal. The longer I stayed here, the more chance Dominick would come back, or a cleaning lady would come, or—
Fear moved me when nothing else would. I half-stumbled my way back into the bedroom and managed to get my clothes on clumsily. I couldn’t seem to tuck my blouse into my skirt, my hair was a mess, my makeup was gone. The shoes felt awkward on my feet; I had turned into a college girl, uncertain in her work outfits. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, even my habitual self-hatred, all the little whispers about my chubbiness, couldn’t dent the pulse of fear and the low ache of Dominick’s betrayal.
I stopped in the hallway, coat over my arm.
Betrayal? I wanted to laugh. Dominick hadn’t betrayed me. Dominick had never pretended he was anything other than what he was. Dominick hardly cared enough about me to betray me. I wondered if he was going to have me killed when he figured out it was me who had turned him in. Probably. He’d killed Kelly, hadn’t he?
The hallway spun, and I reached out to steady myself. I was still there, trying desperately to stay upright, when the door to the apartment opened and the driver poked his head inside. What he thought to see me like that, I didn’t know, but he was gentle as he led me downstairs, and I leaned on his arm gratefully. He was being nice, far nicer than I deserved, and shame wormed deep inside me—this man clearly thought I was overcome with fear for Dominick. He didn’t know how low I was. How untrustworthy.
When the car finally drew to a halt outside my house and the driver helped me out of the back seat, I was with it enough to murmur a thank you. He didn’t pull away until I’d managed to get into the building, and it was only in the elevator that I slumped back against the wall, hands over my eyes. A sob escaped me, a little sound like a child might make, and I clenched one hand until the nails drove into my skin.
The hallway was blessedly empty; I didn’t think I could have dealt with Nate right around now. I took a long shower in my own bathroom, brushed my hair out until it gleamed, and then sat down at the table, wrapped up in a bathrobe, and opened my laptop.
I was careful, methodical. I was always careful and methodical—that’s what got me the job at the newspaper. That’s what got Edward’s attention. That was what was going to make my career, if it didn’t get me killed. I read and requeried the search engines, bringing up papers we’d all skimmed over while we were first investigating Ellison Corp. This time, I read them more carefully. It was difficult to find these types of laws and articles, and more difficult to understand them, but I made my way through one term at a time, and the picture came into chilling focus.
We don’t need more clients, I remembered Emma telling me. They had all the contracts they needed at Ellison Corp. And I was beginning to think they had only one client.
We
Similar Books
