Chapter 2 - THE GIRL WHO HEARD EVERYTHING
Enzo Baranti had built his reputation on recognizing the moment someone was about to lie.
He knew the tiny changes in breathing.
The unnecessary details.
The sudden confidence.
The way frightened men became either too quiet or too loud.
Mave Dunlevy displayed none of them.
She simply stood beside the sink, drying a spoon.
"Explain," he said.
Mave shook her head.
"I shouldn't have said anything."
"But you did."
"I need this job."
"You're not being fired for answering a question."
She looked at him.
"That's easy for you to say."
Enzo accepted the rebuke.
"Fair."
He stepped away from the doorway.
"Would you prefer we speak somewhere private?"
"No."
He blinked.
Mave glanced toward the corridor.
"Private rooms are where powerful people explain why something that happened to you never happened."
Enzo said nothing.
She continued.
"If you want to talk, we can talk here. The cameras work."
A faint smile touched his mouth.
"All right."
Mave placed the spoon on the drying rack.
"The money was supposed to be transferred to the waterfront redevelopment account last Thursday."
Enzo's expression sharpened.
"How do you know that?"
"Because Mr. Whitlock talked about it on Tuesday."
"That doesn't tell you what happened Thursday."
"No."
She reached beneath the counter and retrieved a small notebook.
Its cover was blue.
The corners were worn.
"I write things down."
Enzo looked at it.
"Why?"
"Because when people complain about service, they sometimes change their stories."
She opened the notebook.
Inside were dates, times, room numbers, and brief descriptions.
Nothing elaborate.
Just careful observations.
"Last Thursday, Mr. Whitlock asked for tea in the conference room at seven-fifteen in the evening," she said. "He was meeting a woman named Claire Sloane."
Enzo knew the name.
Claire Sloane was a compliance consultant.
She had resigned six months earlier.
"Continue."
"They argued about a transfer."
"What transfer?"
"I didn't hear the account number. But I heard the amount."
"Two million?"
Mave nodded.
"She said, 'If you move it through that account, they'll trace it back to the pier.'"
Enzo went cold.
"Which pier?"
"Pier Nineteen."
He stared.
Pier Nineteen had been closed for eleven years.
Officially, it was awaiting redevelopment.
Unofficially, it was a place Enzo had ordered his people to stay away from.
Mave continued.
"Mr. Whitlock told her the money would be back before the audit."
"And she agreed?"
"No."
Mave looked down.
"She said she wanted nothing to do with it."
"What happened next?"
"Mr. Whitlock told her that people who made trouble tended to lose their jobs."
Enzo's jaw tightened.
"Did anyone else hear this?"
Mave shook her head.
"Not that I know."
He looked at the notebook.
"Would you let me make a copy?"
Mave closed it.
"No."
Enzo raised an eyebrow.
"Why not?"
"Because it's mine."
For a moment, he almost laughed.
Then he nodded.
"Fair enough."
She studied him.
"You're not used to hearing no."
"No."
"Maybe you should practice."
This time, Enzo did laugh.
A short, surprised sound.
Mave looked startled.
He hadn't expected that either.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message from his head of security.
CLAIRE SLOANE WAS FOUND DEAD THIS MORNING.
Enzo read it twice.
His expression changed.
Mave noticed immediately.
"What happened?"
He looked at her.
"Someone you mentioned."
Her face tightened.
"Claire?"
Enzo didn't answer quickly enough.
Mave stepped backward.
"Oh, God."
She gripped the counter.
"Is she dead?"
Enzo nodded.
Mave closed her eyes.
May you like
And whispered:
"Then he knows."
