Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO KNEW HER NAME
Skylar was halfway to the subway when her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She considered ignoring it.
Then she remembered her father’s medical bills and answered.
“Miss Hastings?”
The voice was smooth.
Professional.
“I’m Victor Sloane. I oversee Aurelian Heritage Holdings.”
Her stomach tightened.
“How did you get this number?”
“That isn’t important.”
“It is to me.”
He laughed softly.
“I understand you had an unfortunate misunderstanding with Dominic Hayes this evening.”
Skylar stopped walking.
“I answered a question.”
“Yes. And apparently made several allegations concerning our collection.”
“I raised concerns about the documentation.”
“Your father raised similar concerns.”
The sidewalk suddenly felt too crowded.
Victor continued.
“Dr. Hastings was a talented scholar. Unfortunately, his judgment became unreliable toward the end of his consulting work.”
Skylar’s fingers tightened around her phone.
“My father’s judgment was fine.”
“Of course.”
A pause.
“Accidents can change how we remember things.”
Her breathing stopped.
“What do you want?”
“To prevent another misunderstanding.”
He offered her money.
A generous consulting payment.
Enough to cover several months of her father’s rehabilitation costs.
All she needed to do was sign a statement acknowledging that her observations at Lauronie were preliminary and that she had no evidence of wrongdoing.
Skylar stared into the cold November night.
“Send it to my attorney.”
Victor’s voice changed.
“You have an attorney?”
“Not yet.”
She ended the call.
Her hands were shaking.
By the time she reached her Queens apartment, a black sedan was parked across the street.
It remained there until nearly two in the morning.
The next day, Skylar visited her father at the rehabilitation facility.
Dr. Elias Hastings sat beside the window in his wheelchair, reading an old book with a magnifying glass.
He had been sixty-one when the accident occurred.
Now he looked much older.
But his mind remained as sharp as ever.
When Skylar mentioned Dominic Hayes, he stopped turning pages.
“What did you say?”
She explained everything.
The restaurant.
The Akkadian insult.
The tablet.
Victor’s call.
Elias closed his eyes.
“I hoped that collection had disappeared.”
“Dad, what happened three years ago?”
He remained silent.
Skylar sat beside him.
“You told me you were driving home from a research meeting when the truck hit you.”
“I was.”
“Who were you meeting?”
“Victor Sloane.”
Her stomach dropped.
Elias continued.
“He wanted me to authenticate several tablets before a private sale.”
“Did you?”
“Not completely.”
“What does that mean?”
“I signed an initial assessment confirming that the objects appeared consistent with their proposed historical periods.”
Skylar frowned.
“That isn’t the same as verifying provenance.”
“I know.”
“Then why did Victor use your name?”
Elias looked away.
“Because I made a mistake.”
He explained that he had accepted the consulting assignment while Skylar was still in graduate school.
The payment helped cover her research expenses.
But after examining additional documentation, he discovered inconsistencies in the collection’s ownership history.
He withdrew his preliminary approval.
Victor demanded that he reconsider.
Elias refused.
Four days later, the truck struck his car.
Skylar stared.
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“The driver was never identified.”
“Did you keep your research?”
“Some of it.”
“Where?”
Elias hesitated.
Then looked at her.
“There’s a blue notebook in the old bookcase at home.”
Skylar nodded.
“I’ll find it.”
Her father caught her hand.
“Skylar.”
Something in his expression frightened her.
“Victor wasn’t the only person who wanted my approval.”
“Who else?”
Elias swallowed.
“A man from Hayes Technologies.”
“Dominic?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Her father’s voice dropped.
“Someone who worked directly for Dominic’s father.”
Skylar went still.
Dominic’s father, Harrison Hayes, had died five years earlier.
The accident was only three years ago.
“How could he have been involved?”
Elias looked at her.
“Because Harrison’s people began assembling that collection years before Dominic inherited the company.”
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Then he said something even worse.
“The night I was struck, I was carrying proof that one of Harrison Hayes’s most celebrated charitable donations had been built on a lie.”
