Chapter 3 - THE WATCH THAT STOPPED TOO EARLY
“What does that mean?”
Vincent did not answer quickly enough.
I grabbed the edge of his desk.
“What does that mean?”
Mia looked up.
“Mama loud.”
I forced myself to lower my voice.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
Vincent pulled out the chair beside his desk.
“Sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I am shaking because you just told me the time of my husband’s death might be a lie.”
That silenced him.
Nathan placed the tablet on the desk.
“The official incident report lists the collapse at 5:03 p.m.”
“I know.”
I had read that report until the pages softened along the folds.
5:03 p.m.
Structural rigging failure.
Fatal trauma.
No evidence of criminal misconduct.
Vincent walked to the wall cabinet again.
This time he unlocked a narrow drawer with a key from his pocket.
He removed a small evidence bag.
Inside was Daniel’s watch.
I recognized it immediately.
Brown leather band.
Scratched stainless-steel case.
I had bought it for our fifth anniversary.
My knees weakened.
“Where did you get that?”
“A private investigator recovered it from the site-property inventory after the police released the personal effects that were not sent to you.”
“Why wasn’t it sent to me?”
“Because it was logged as construction debris.”
My eyes burned.
“He wore that every day.”
“I know.”
The crystal was cracked.
The hands were frozen.
4:17.
I stared at them.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“No,” Nathan said. “But it matters.”
Vincent set the bag down.
“The mechanism was damaged by a severe impact.”
“At 4:17.”
“Yes.”
“Forty-six minutes before the report says the accident happened.”
“Yes.”
My mouth went dry.
Maybe Daniel had hit the watch earlier.
Maybe it had broken against equipment.
Maybe the report had a clerical error.
I wanted every ordinary explanation available.
Nathan seemed to read my thoughts.
“We checked the site photographs.”
He opened several images on the tablet.
“The watch is visible on Daniel’s wrist at 3:41.”
Another photograph.
Daniel near a steel column.
Watch intact.
Then another.
4:02.
Still intact.
I looked away.
“Stop.”
Nathan immediately lowered the tablet.
Mia climbed onto the chair beside me.
She placed her rabbit on my lap.
“For sad.”
I wrapped one arm around her.
Vincent stared at the floor.
“He was supposed to board the 6:10 train from downtown to Lake Forest,” he said. “I was waiting for him here.”
“With what?”
“Evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
Vincent looked at Nathan.
Nathan answered.
“Substituted lifting shackles. Anchor assemblies. Load-test certificates that did not match the manufacturer codes.”
I knew almost nothing about industrial construction.
But I understood one word.
“Unsafe?”
“Yes.”
“How unsafe?”
Vincent’s eyes met mine.
“Unsafe enough that Daniel wanted the entire north section shut down.”
I felt sick.
“And did you shut it down?”
“No.”
The honesty struck harder than an excuse would have.
“Why not?”
“I ordered an internal verification first.”
“You kept people working?”
“I stopped heavy lifting on two sections.”
“Not all of them.”
“No.”
I stood.
Mia’s rabbit fell from my lap.
“You knew my husband thought something could fail.”
“Yes.”
“And you waited.”
“I wanted proof before I shut down a project employing six hundred people.”
“My husband is dead.”
“I know.”
“No. You know his name. I know what his side of the bed looked like six months after he was gone.”
Vincent absorbed that without moving.
“You’re right.”
I hated him for saying it.
I hated that he would not fight back.
Nathan stepped between us slightly.
“Sophia, Daniel did not want Vincent to close the project immediately either.”
I turned on him.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not excusing anyone.”
“Then don’t use my husband to do it.”
Nathan nodded once.
“You’re right.”
Mia had retrieved her rabbit.
She was watching the adults with worried eyes.
I picked her up.
“We’re leaving.”
Vincent said my name.
I kept walking.
Then Nathan spoke.
“We still have Daniel’s locker key.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“The locker at the subcontractor facility. After Lakeside folded, Bellaro purchased its remaining assets. Daniel’s locker was never cleared.”
I turned.
“Two years?”
“No family member requested the contents because nobody told you they existed.”
That sentence landed exactly where the others had.
Nobody told you.
Nobody told you.
Nobody told you.
Twenty minutes later, we were in a Bellaro SUV headed toward an industrial storage facility in Waukegan.
I hated accepting the ride.
But I hated unanswered questions more.
Mia sat in a child seat a housekeeper named Elena had brought from the estate garage.
Vincent sat across from me.
Nathan drove.
Nobody spoke much.
At the facility, Daniel’s locker stood exactly where Nathan said it would.
Number 38.
The key turned with difficulty.
Inside hung Daniel’s orange work coat.
I grabbed it.
It still smelled faintly of dust and machine oil.
Or maybe I imagined that.
His spare gloves rested on the shelf.
A coffee cup.
Two pencils.
A photograph of Mia at eleven months old.
I pressed it to my chest.
Vincent turned away to give me privacy.
Then I noticed something inside the coat lining.
A hard rectangle.
The seam had been opened and stitched shut by hand.
Daniel had hidden something.
Nathan found a utility knife.
I cut three stitches.
A train ticket slid into my palm.
6:10 p.m.
Chicago to Lake Forest.
The date was the day Daniel died.
Underneath it was a red metal tag.
HARBOR INDUSTRIAL.
LOT 41.
Nathan went pale.
Vincent swore quietly.
“What?”
Neither man answered.
“What is Lot 41?”
Nathan stared at the tag.
“It was a shipment of heavy-load shackles.”
“And?”
Vincent took the tag from me.
“They failed certification.”
My skin went cold.
“Then why were they on Daniel’s site?”
Vincent looked toward Nathan.
Nathan’s face had lost all color.
“Because somebody overrode the rejection.”
“Who?”
Nathan swallowed.
“The substitution order was approved by Thomas Keane.”
I remembered the name.
Bellaro Construction’s chief operating officer.
Vincent’s oldest business partner.
Nathan looked at Vincent.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Keane signed the order three days before Daniel died.”
May you like
He held up the red tag.
“And he ordered Lot 41 destroyed the morning after the funeral.”
