Chapter 2 - TOMMY’S SECOND LIFE
Dileia did not cry.
That surprised Julian.
She could tell because he watched her too carefully.
People expect tears after certain truths.
They forget anger arrives faster.
“My husband worked for you.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Three years.”
“And I never knew.”
“No.”
“What exactly did he do?”
Julian looked toward Salenzo.
Not for permission.
For history.
Salenzo answered.
“Internal forensic review.”
Dileia laughed once.
“Of your legitimate companies?”
Silence.
“Right.”
She turned back to Julian.
“Did Tommy know you were a criminal?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before he accepted.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“No. Tommy hated dishonesty.”
Julian’s face remained still.
“He hated theft more.”
That sounded like him.
Which made it worse.
Dileia paced once across the conference room.
“How did you meet?”
Julian answered.
“He audited a medical-supply subsidiary we partially owned.”
“St. Agnes procurement.”
“Yes.”
Tommy had worked there before the hospital where he died.
Dileia remembered.
Long hours.
Quiet stress.
A sudden promotion he never fully explained.
She had assumed grief and debt distorted memory.
Maybe the distortion had begun earlier.
“What did he find?”
“Kickbacks.”
“Who?”
“Executives buying inferior supplies through shell vendors.”
Her anger paused.
That was exactly the kind of thing Tommy could not ignore.
“He brought it to you?”
“No.”
“To regulators?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did you get involved?”
Julian looked out at Chicago.
“The regulators included one man being paid to bury it.”
Dileia’s stomach tightened.
“Tommy figured that out.”
“Yes.”
“And came to you?”
“No.”
“I found him.”
Of course.
“How?”
“He was being followed.”
Dileia stared.
“And you protected him.”
“Yes.”
“For free?”
“No.”
There.
Good.
Truth.
“What did you want?”
“His ability.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Everyone did.”
Julian’s eyes hardened slightly.
“I paid him.”
“You owned his silence.”
“No.”
“Did I know?”
“No.”
“Then you bought part of his life I was excluded from.”
That landed.
Julian said nothing.
Dileia continued.
“How did he die?”
The room changed.
Salenzo looked away.
Holloway’s face became blank.
Dileia saw everything.
Her chest tightened.
“No.”
Julian stepped forward.
“Dileia.”
“He died in a car accident.”
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
Silence.
She stared.
“Did he?”
Julian’s voice became quiet.
“I don’t know.”
Rage hit so cleanly she almost smiled.
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
“You control half the city beneath the city, but you don’t know whether a man who worked for you died by accident.”
“I investigated.”
“Then what did you find?”
“Nothing conclusive.”
“Convenient.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“For who?”
“For you.”
The room went still.
Dileia pointed at the screen.
“His initials are inside forty million dollars disappearing from your companies.”
“Yes.”
“He dies fourteen months ago.”
“Yes.”
“And now you expect me to believe you investigated and found nothing.”
“I expect nothing.”
“Good.”
She grabbed her bag.
Julian moved.
Not blocking.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Dileia.”
“No.”
“You are in danger.”
She laughed.
“I became in danger the moment my husband accepted money from you.”
His face tightened.
“That may be true.”
She stopped.
Honesty again.
Annoying.
Julian continued.
“But someone used Tommy’s identifier after his death.”
Her hand froze on the bag.
“What?”
“The suffix.”
“T.H.”
“Yes.”
“It’s not initials?”
“It is. Also an access code.”
Dileia stared.
Julian explained.
“Tommy created a temporary audit channel when he worked here.”
“Why?”
“To move suspect transactions into shadow review without alerting department heads.”
“And it stayed active.”
“No.”
“Then?”
“It was deactivated after his death.”
Dileia’s pulse changed.
“So someone reactivated it.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Julian looked at Salenzo.
Salenzo answered.
“Three months ago.”
Dileia slowly put the bag down.
“Who could?”
“Tommy.”
“He’s dead.”
“Or someone holding his recovery key.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What recovery key?”
Julian’s eyes moved to her.
That look.
He suspected.
“Tommy designed the channel so only he could restore it.”
“How?”
“Physical token.”
Dileia almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“Did he leave you anything?”
Everything in her life suddenly became evidence.
Tommy’s watch.
Wallet.
Old laptop.
Boxes.
A wooden chess set.
Hospital badge.
“No.”
Too fast.
Julian heard it.
“What?”
She glared.
“I said no.”
“You remembered something.”
“I remembered being married.”
His expression changed.
Good.
She continued.
“You do not get to search my apartment.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
“No.”
“You made the face.”
One corner of his mouth moved.
Dileia hated that they already had faces.
She thought of Mrs. Ruth.
Tommy’s mother kept one box under her bed.
His “work things.”
Dileia had never opened it.
Not because Tommy asked her not to.
Because after he died, grief turned objects into land mines.
“Mrs. Ruth has a box.”
Julian’s face sharpened.
“Tommy’s?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
Salenzo said, “We should secure it.”
Dileia turned.
“We?”
He went quiet.
She looked at Julian.
“If I bring it here, nobody opens it without me.”
“Yes.”
“Police if there is evidence of a crime.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
Then: “Yes.”
Salenzo looked surprised.
Dileia continued.
“And if I find out Tommy was involved in stealing from you—”
Julian finished.
“You decide what you believe.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“I decide what I do.”
That mattered.
He nodded.
“Yes.”
Dileia returned home with Holloway outside the building only because she agreed.
Mrs. Alvarez sat with Ruth at the table.
Ruth smiled when Dileia entered.
“Tommy’s wife.”
Some days that was the best she got.
Dileia kissed her cheek.
“That’s me.”
“Tommy called.”
Dileia froze.
Mrs. Alvarez looked alarmed.
“No one called.”
Ruth frowned.
“He did.”
Dileia sat.
“When?”
“Today.”
Her heart pounded.
“What did he say?”
Ruth looked confused.
“That he was sorry.”
Dileia swallowed.
Memory.
Hallucination.
Old phone call resurfacing.
Dementia can bend time until yesterday walks through the door.
“What else?”
“He said not to trust the tall man.”
Dileia stopped breathing.
“What tall man?”
Ruth shrugged.
“The one with sad eyes.”
Julian?
No.
Impossible.
Mrs. Alvarez touched Dileia’s shoulder.
“She’s been talking about Tommy all morning.”
Dileia nodded.
Of course.
She was making patterns from pain now.
Dangerous.
She went to Ruth’s room.
The box sat under the bed.
Old cardboard.
Tape yellowed.
TOMMY — WORK.
Dileia pulled it out.
Her hands shook.
Inside were notebooks.
Tax forms.
Two hard drives.
A hospital ID.
An envelope addressed to Ruth.
Not Dileia.
Ruth.
She brought it to the kitchen.
“Do you want this?”
Ruth looked at the handwriting.
Her eyes filled.
“My boy.”
“Can I open it with you?”
Ruth nodded.
Dileia broke the seal.
Inside:
A letter.
Mom,
If anything happens to me, give the brass key to Dileia.
Do not give it to anyone from Thorn Tower unless Julian himself asks and Dileia agrees.
Dileia’s hands went cold.
Ruth whispered, “Julian.”
She knew the name.
Dileia stared.
“You know Julian?”
Ruth looked at her.
“Tall man.”
Her pulse stopped.
“The one with sad eyes?”
Ruth nodded.
“He came here.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
No.
Julian had been at Thorn Tower.
Maybe another day.
Dementia again.
“When did he come?”
Ruth frowned.
“After Tommy died.”
Dileia’s stomach turned.
Julian had been in this apartment.
And never told her.
The letter continued.
The key is inside my father’s watch.
Dileia closed her eyes.
Tommy’s father had died years ago.
His watch sat in Ruth’s dresser.
She found it.
Old brass pocket watch.
Back plate loose.
Inside, taped beneath the mechanism, a tiny brass key.
And a micro-USB security token.
Dileia stared.
Tommy’s recovery key.
The thing someone needed to reactivate his audit channel.
Except it had been here the entire time.
Which meant whoever reactivated T.H. had not used the original.
They had cloned it.
Or Tommy had created a second key.
Dileia called Julian.
He answered before the first ring finished.
“What?”
“I found it.”
Silence.
“The key?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It never left Ruth’s apartment.”
Julian went quiet.
Then:
“Then whoever reopened Tommy’s channel had internal root access.”
Salenzo.
Holloway.
IT.
Julian.
Very limited people.
Dileia stared at Ruth.
“Julian.”
“Yes?”
“Did you come to my apartment after Tommy died?”
Silence.
Too long.
Her anger rose.
“Answer.”
“Yes.”
The room became very still.
“Why?”
“To see Ruth.”
Dileia almost laughed.
“You knew her.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Another pause.
“Tommy asked me to look after her if he died.”
Dileia closed her eyes.
“And me?”
Julian’s voice changed.
“He asked me not to approach you.”
That hurt worse.
“Why?”
“Because he knew you would hate everything I represented.”
Tommy knew.
Of course.
“He was right.”
“Yes.”
“Then why am I in your tower now?”
“Because you found the money.”
Dileia looked at the key in her palm.
“And because someone wanted me to.”
Julian went silent.
That possibility entered both minds at the same time.
The conference room.
The uncleared screen.
The visible ledger.
The fake T.H. channel.
Maybe Dileia had not accidentally discovered the theft.
Maybe someone had left it where the one person connected to Tommy would see.
Julian’s voice hardened.
“Do not leave the apartment.”
“No.”
“Dileia.”
“You keep forgetting how that sounds.”
He stopped.
Then corrected.
“Will you stay until Holloway checks the building?”
She looked toward the door.
Choice.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
A noise came from Ruth’s bedroom.
Glass breaking.
Dileia ran.
The window was open.
Cold air blew through.
A brick lay on the floor.
Wrapped around it was a photograph.
Tommy.
Alive.
Timestamp printed beneath.
Three weeks ago.
May you like
Dileia stopped breathing.
Her dead husband was standing outside Thorn Tower.
