Chapter 3 - WHY DECLAN HIRED HER
Norah wanted to hit him.
Not dramatically.
Not passionately.
She simply wanted one clean moment in which the confusion inside her body had somewhere to go.
Instead, she stared.
“You knew my father.”
Declan leaned against the conference table.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He worked for my father.”
“My father was an accountant.”
“Yes.”
“He worked for a manufacturing company.”
“No.”
She felt cold.
“My mother told me—”
“Your mother told you what Thomas asked her to tell you.”
Declan removed his phone again.
Still no signal.
He looked toward the ceiling.
“We need to move.”
“No.”
“Norah.”
“You don’t get to say my name like you’re protecting me after keeping this from me for fourteen months.”
“We can fight later.”
“We’re fighting now.”
He looked at her.
Maybe he realized there would be no moving until she had enough truth to stand on.
“Thomas Bennett was my father’s controller.”
“Controller?”
“Financial oversight.”
“For Gallagher Enterprises?”
“For the part of Gallagher Enterprises nobody put in annual reports.”
Norah swallowed.
There it was.
The thing she had deliberately not asked about for fourteen months.
“Organized crime.”
Declan’s face stayed still.
“You already knew what people said.”
“I knew rumors.”
“You knew enough to take the salary.”
“My mother needed care.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t mean I agreed to—”
“I didn’t say it did.”
Norah stopped.
He did not sound judgmental.
Just factual.
“My father worked for yours?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Almost fifteen years.”
“Then what happened?”
Declan looked toward the dark windows.
“Thomas found money moving through vendors that didn’t belong to us.”
“To who?”
“We never knew.”
“Three million dollars?”
“Sometimes.”
The fake waste contractors.
Consultancies.
Freight brokers.
Maintenance companies.
The exact categories Norah had been reconciling for months.
Her stomach tightened.
“You hired me because of him.”
“Yes.”
She laughed once.
“I thought I got this job because Mae Jensen retired.”
“She did.”
“And?”
“I approved you because of your name.”
“You investigated me.”
“I investigated everyone who applied.”
“You investigated my mother.”
“Yes.”
Her face hardened.
“That is not normal.”
“Neither is my company.”
No defense.
Again.
That almost made it worse.
“Why did you want me here?”
“Because Thomas disappeared after finding the same vendor pattern you just found.”
Norah looked at the spreadsheet.
“You thought I might know something.”
“At first.”
“I was twelve.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
Declan’s voice changed.
“Then you turned out to be good at your job.”
She hated how much that mattered.
“Did you keep me because of him?”
“No.”
“Truth.”
“That is the truth.”
Then a faint vibration came through the floor.
Footsteps.
Declan immediately switched.
“Conversation over.”
He pulled Norah behind a structural column.
Three men entered the far hallway.
Flashlights.
No uniforms.
One said:
“Check conference rooms.”
Norah’s pulse hammered.
Declan whispered:
“Stay here.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I can stand long enough.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“Nothing tonight will be.”
He moved away.
Norah grabbed his arm.
“What are you going to do?”
“Create a reason for them to look somewhere else.”
“No.”
His eyes met hers.
“Norah.”
“No heroic mafia nonsense.”
His eyebrow lifted despite the cut.
“Heroic?”
“You’re bleeding into office carpet.”
“That carpet is ugly.”
She almost laughed.
Then one flashlight beam moved closer.
Declan whispered:
“When I move, go left. Stairwell B.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll follow.”
“You’re lying.”
“Probably.”
Before she could answer, another voice came from behind the intruders.
Female.
“Gentlemen.”
Three men turned.
A suppressed burst of shouting.
Movement.
One man hit the floor.
Another ran.
Norah crouched.
Declan stepped out.
A woman in a black coat emerged from the dark.
Forties.
Red hair pulled tight.
Pistol lowered.
“Your timing is terrible,” Declan said.
She looked at the blood.
“Your face is worse.”
Maeve Quinn.
Apparently.
She crossed to Norah.
“You’re Bennett.”
Norah stared.
“Everyone knows my name tonight.”
Maeve looked at Declan.
“You told her?”
“Some.”
“Then tell her the rest before somebody else does.”
Norah folded her arms.
“Excellent suggestion.”
Maeve ignored the tension.
“Building control is compromised. Lobby security answers to Keane.”
“Police?”
“Someone already reported you as armed and unstable after a violent internal dispute.”
Declan smiled without humor.
“Fast.”
“Board meeting at eight a.m.”
“It’s two-thirty.”
“Exactly.”
Norah felt cold.
“What happens at eight?”
Maeve looked at her.
“They vote to remove Declan.”
“Why?”
“Because Martin Keane claims Declan stole forty million dollars from Gallagher Enterprises and assaulted him when confronted.”
Declan laughed once.
Norah looked at him.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Either part?”
“No.”
Maeve continued.
“And Keane’s evidence identifies the employee who processed the transfers.”
Norah already knew.
Her stomach sank anyway.
“Me.”
May you like
Maeve nodded.
“Your login is on every one.”
