Chapter 1 - FIVE MINUTES
Dominic Valenti stayed on one knee.
Sophie’s arms were around his neck.
Mr. Buttons hung between them by one damaged ear.
Nobody in the corridor moved.
Claire did.
She crossed the marble floor so quickly one of the guards shifted toward her.
Dominic raised one hand without letting go of Sophie.
The guard stopped.
Claire stopped too.
“Sophie.”
Her voice cracked.
The little girl looked over Dominic’s shoulder.
“Mommy.”
“What did I tell you?”
“Stay in room.”
“And what did you do?”
“Didn’t.”
“Come here.”
Sophie looked at Dominic.
“Is five minutes done?”
Dominic glanced at the heavy watch beneath his cuff.
“One minute and twelve seconds.”
Claire stared.
He was timing it.
Of course he was.
Sophie tightened her arms.
“Still have more.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Only for a second.
Then he looked at Claire again.
And that look was what frightened her.
Not anger.
Recognition.
He knew something.
Claire felt it before he said a word.
The cloth rabbit pressed against the back of Dominic’s hand.
His eyes dropped.
He touched the rabbit’s loose ear with two fingers.
“Where did she get that?”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
“The rabbit.”
She looked at Mr. Buttons.
It was faded gray now, though it had once been white.
One black button eye.
One stitched eye.
A blue ribbon long ago washed almost colorless.
“It was a gift.”
“From who?”
Claire’s fingers went cold.
“Her father.”
Dominic’s face changed.
The corridor seemed to disappear around them.
“What was his name?”
Claire did not answer immediately.
She did not like being questioned by men surrounded by guns.
She especially did not like being questioned about Ethan.
“Sophie.”
Dominic’s voice softened.
“Would you go with your mother for a minute?”
Sophie frowned.
“My five.”
“You’re right.”
He looked at his watch.
“Three minutes and nineteen seconds left.”
One of the guards looked as if he had accidentally stepped into another universe.
Claire did too.
Dominic stayed exactly where he was until the five minutes ended.
Not four fifty-nine.
Not five oh-one.
At five minutes, Sophie released him.
“Better?”
Dominic did not answer.
She touched his cheek.
“You still look sad.”
Claire nearly vanished from embarrassment.
“Sophie.”
Dominic caught the child’s small hand gently before she could pat him again.
“I’m all right.”
“You’re lying.”
The guard nearest the stair looked down very quickly.
Dominic stared at Sophie.
Then laughed once.
Low.
Broken.
“Probably.”
Sophie seemed satisfied.
She walked to Claire.
Claire lifted her immediately.
Sophie was getting heavy.
Claire did not care.
Dominic stood.
Six foot three again.
Dark suit.
Hard face.
The dangerous man returned.
Mostly.
His eyes stayed on the rabbit.
“Claire Bennett.”
She stiffened.
She had been employed six weeks.
Of course he knew her name.
Except his tone said more.
“Her father.”
Claire held Sophie tighter.
“Why?”
“What was his name?”
“Mr. Valenti—”
“Please.”
That stopped her.
Not the word.
The fact he used it.
Men like Dominic Valenti did not sound as though they needed permission.
Claire looked around.
Staff.
Guards.
Paolo Serra at the far end now, Dominic’s head of security, watching.
“Not here.”
Dominic nodded immediately.
“Good.”
There was that word again? But not from user story. Fine.
He turned toward the small receiving room beside library.
Then stopped.
“No.”
Claire frowned.
“What?”
“You’re holding her.”
“Yes.”
“If I ask you into a closed room with my men outside, you’ll think you can’t leave.”
Claire stared.
He was right.
“Kitchen breakfast room,” he said.
“Windows. Staff nearby.”
Claire did not know what to do with that consideration.
It made him more unsettling, not less.
They went.
Sophie sat at table with apple slices and Mr. Buttons.
Claire refused coffee.
Dominic sat opposite.
Paolo remained by door until Dominic said:
“Outside.”
Paolo hesitated.
“Dom—”
“Outside.”
He went.
Now only three people.
One rabbit.
Dominic looked at Claire.
“Her father.”
Claire said:
“Ethan Ward.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
There.
Not suspicion anymore.
Certainty.
Claire’s pulse jumped.
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Dominic looked at Sophie.
Then at Claire.
“Before I answer, how much did he tell you about his work?”
“He was in freight accounting.”
“Where?”
“Different contractors. He moved around.”
“Did he ever say Valenti?”
“No.”
Dominic leaned back.
His face looked older suddenly.
“How long were you together?”
“Three years.”
“Married?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Sophie has your name.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Ethan died before she was born.”
Sophie looked up.
“Daddy died.”
Claire’s throat tightened.
“Yes, baby.”
Dominic looked at child.
He knew already, Claire realized.
Not that Sophie’s father was dead.
Which dead man.
“How?” he asked.
Claire’s eyes narrowed.
“You tell me.”
Dominic did not move.
“Officially?”
She hated that word instantly.
“Car accident.”
“When?”
“January ninth. Four years ago.”
Dominic’s eyes closed.
Claire went cold.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he died.”
“Yes.”
“You knew him before he died.”
“Yes.”
“Who was he to you?”
Dominic looked at Mr. Buttons.
“Someone who worked for me.”
Claire laughed.
It came out sharp.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He worked freight accounting.”
“At one of my logistics companies.”
“Which?”
“Not under his real assignment.”
There.
Sophie pushed apple slice into rabbit’s face.
Adults were breaking worlds.
She was feeding cloth.
Claire lowered voice.
“What real assignment?”
Dominic did not answer quickly.
Good.
“Internal audits.”
“What kind?”
“The kind that did not appear on payroll.”
Claire stared.
“Illegal?”
“Sometimes.”
Her mouth went dry.
“Was Ethan a criminal?”
Dominic looked at her.
“He worked inside my organization.”
“That is not answer.”
“No.”
Good.
Then:
“He did some illegal things. He also found things I had not authorized.”
Claire stood.
Sophie startled.
Claire immediately sat again.
Good.
Not in front of child.
“What things?”
Dominic looked at Sophie.
“Not here.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“No.”
He breathed.
“You’re right.”
Claire almost hated him for making her keep adjusting.
Then Dominic pointed toward rabbit.
“Ethan bought that at Northwestern Memorial gift shop.”
Claire’s chest seized.
“What?”
“Three weeks before he died.”
“No.”
“He showed it to me.”
Claire’s face went white.
Dominic continued.
“He had it in his office. Still had price tag. He said his daughter was going to be born in April and he wanted to give her something before she knew he was useless at choosing toys.”
Claire stared at Mr. Buttons.
Ethan had given it to her on Christmas Eve.
He said he found it near work.
That was all.
“He told you she was a girl.”
“Yes.”
“He told you about me.”
Dominic looked down.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Your first name. That you worked at a dental office then. That you hated olives. That you were pregnant. That you thought the baby kicked more when you ate cinnamon toast.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
Those were Ethan’s words.
Not investigator notes.
Not surveillance.
Ethan.
Sophie looked up.
“Mommy?”
Claire wiped face.
“I’m okay.”
Dominic looked away.
Good.
Give her privacy.
Then Claire said:
“If he trusted you enough to tell you about me, why did I never hear your name?”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Because by the time he died, he no longer trusted me.”
Silence.
There.
Claire’s hand tightened around edge of table.
“Why?”
Dominic’s answer came quietly.
“Because I accused him of stealing from me.”
Sophie hummed to rabbit.
Claire stared.
“How much?”
“Two point four million dollars.”
“Did he?”
“I thought he did.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“No.”
Dominic looked directly at her.
“I no longer believe he did.”
Claire’s body went cold.
“What happened after you accused him?”
Dominic’s jaw shifted.
“I ordered him brought to me.”
“Brought how?”
“By my men.”
Her stomach turned.
“Did they hurt him?”
“They never reached him.”
“How do you know?”
“He died before they did.”
Car accident.
January ninth.
Claire heard rain against estate windows even though it was barely raining outside.
Maybe memory invented sound.
“Where?”
“Lower Wacker.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“Who was coming for him?”
Dominic hesitated.
Claire leaned forward.
“Who?”
“Renato Corsi.”
The name meant nothing to her.
It meant something to Dominic.
His eyes said so.
“My underboss then.”
“Then?”
“He still works with parts of my organization.”
Claire stared.
“You think he killed Ethan.”
Dominic held her gaze.
“I think I should have asked that question four years ago.”
There.
Not accusation.
Guilt.
Claire stood again.
This time she lifted Sophie.
“We’re leaving.”
Dominic stood too.
He did not block.
“Your shift—”
“I don’t care.”
“You’ll be paid.”
She glared.
“I don’t want your money.”
“It’s wages.”
That stopped her.
Six hours worked.
Earned.
Good.
“Fine.”
She moved toward door.
Dominic said:
“Claire.”
She turned.
“I have something of Ethan’s.”
Her heart stopped.
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
“He gave it to me the night before he died.”
Dominic opened the inside pocket of his jacket.
Claire flinched.
He stopped.
Slowly removed a folded leather card sleeve.
Not gun.
He placed it on table.
Did not approach.
Claire stared.
Inside:
a photograph of her.
Six months pregnant.
Standing in their tiny old kitchen.
Holding Mr. Buttons by one ear.
Ethan had taken it.
On the back, his handwriting:
IF I’M WRONG ABOUT DOMINIC, BURN THIS.
IF I’M RIGHT, HE’LL KNOW WHO TO PROTECT.
Claire’s knees weakened.
She sat.
Dominic remained across the room.
Good.
Claire read again.
“If I’m right about what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You kept this for four years.”
“Yes.”
“Did you protect us?”
Dominic’s face changed.
“No.”
Claire looked up.
“No?”
“I stayed away.”
“That is not protection.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever check if we were alive?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes hardened.
“How?”
“One report after Sophie was born. Then I stopped.”
“Why?”
“Ethan told me not to come near you unless I knew he was right.”
“But you didn’t know.”
“No.”
“And now?”
Dominic looked at Sophie.
Then Mr. Buttons.
Then Claire.
“Now my old underboss’s name appeared last month in an audit involving the same kind of missing money Ethan was blamed for.”
Claire stopped.
“Renato.”
“Yes.”
“How much missing now?”
“Two point three million.”
Almost same.
Not accident.
Pattern.
Dominic continued.
“And the accountant who found it disappeared on Monday.”
Claire went still.
Not dead.
Missing.
“And you think Ethan found the same thing.”
“Yes.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because you brought his daughter into my house carrying the rabbit he bought before he died.”
He swallowed.
“And because I have spent four years treating his last message like a reason to stay away when it may have been a reason to look harder.”
Claire looked at photograph.
Then Sophie.
Then Dominic.
“You don’t get to make her the reason you fix your mistake.”
His face changed.
Good.
“No.”
“She is three.”
“Yes.”
“She asked you for a hug, not an investigation.”
“Yes.”
“She does not become evidence.”
“No.”
Claire nodded.
Then took photograph.
“Mine.”
Dominic almost smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
She put it in bag.
Then:
“I’m still leaving.”
“I know.”
At door, Sophie twisted in Claire’s arms.
“Mr. Dominic.”
He looked.
“My five minutes tomorrow?”
Claire closed eyes.
Dominic did not answer child.
He looked at Claire.
Good.
Claire thought.
Then:
“Not tomorrow.”
Sophie frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Mommy needs time.”
Dominic nodded.
Sophie considered.
Then waved.
“Okay.”
They left.
Dominic stood alone in breakfast room.
Paolo entered after minute.
“You all right?”
“No.”
Good.
Paolo looked at empty chair.
“Who was the father?”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Ethan Ward.”
Paolo stopped.
He knew.
Everyone important knew.
“Jesus.”
Dominic looked at him.
“Pull the Ward file.”
Paolo nodded.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
Then Dominic stopped him.
“No internal review.”
Paolo frowned.
“What?”
“Outside counsel. Independent forensic firm.”
“Why?”
Dominic looked toward corridor where Claire had disappeared.
May you like
“Because last time we investigated ourselves, Ethan ended up dead.”
And five minutes of tenderness had just reopened a four-year-old crime.
