Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE OF A DEAD FIREFIGHTER
"Show me the original."
Dominic held out his hand.
Leo shook his head.
"That's the problem. We don't have it."
"Then what do we have?"
"A photograph forwarded from an internal accounting archive. The physical document is supposed to be here, at Lakecrest."
Dominic looked through the glass wall toward Gregory Wallace.
The manager was arguing with Evelyn Hart, gesturing toward the nurses' station.
"Get me the purchasing director."
"Dom—"
"Now."
Leo stepped away.
Dominic remained motionless.
Eight months earlier, he had carried Michael Keegan's coffin.
He remembered Clara walking behind it with one hand pressed against her stomach, still too early in her pregnancy to show.
He remembered the folded American flag presented to Michael's mother.
He remembered the firefighters standing in two silent rows outside the church.
And he remembered something else.
Michael had given him a small silver watch three days before the fire.
An old-fashioned mechanical watch with a scratched face.
"Keep this safe for Clara," Michael had said.
Dominic had laughed.
"Planning on running away?"
Michael hadn't smiled.
"Just promise me."
Dominic had kept it in his desk.
For eight months, he had never asked why Michael had been so serious.
Now he wished he had.
Inside the examination room, Clara was staring at the monitor.
Her baby's heartbeat moved across the screen in a steady pattern.
Dr. Chen adjusted the sensors.
"Any pain?"
"Some tightening."
"How often?"
"Not regularly."
"We'll continue monitoring. Her heartbeat looks good right now, but I want to make sure those tightenings don't develop into contractions."
Clara nodded.
Then she noticed a familiar figure in the doorway.
Evelyn Hart.
"Clara, may I come in?"
Clara's expression stiffened.
"Am I still suspended?"
Evelyn winced.
"No."
"Does Gregory know that?"
"He's been removed from active supervisory duties while we investigate."
Clara looked toward the ceiling.
"Investigate whether he hit me?"
"Investigate everything that happened."
"He slapped me in front of three employees and a camera."
"I understand."
"No," Clara said quietly. "I don't think you do."
Evelyn approached the bed.
Clara looked at her.
"I've worked here six years. I stayed through staffing shortages, budget cuts, flu seasons, and nights when we barely had enough people to cover the floor. I have never asked anyone to treat me differently."
Her voice trembled.
"Tonight, I saved a man's life. Then my manager hit me."
Evelyn lowered her eyes.
Clara continued.
"And for twenty minutes, the hospital treated me like the problem."
Evelyn had no defense.
Instead, she said something unexpected.
"You're right."
Clara blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
"You're right. We failed you."
The words surprised Clara more than an excuse would have.
Evelyn pulled a chair closer.
"And I'm going to tell you something that may make you even angrier."
On the third floor, Dominic watched the hospital purchasing director open a records cabinet.
His name was Martin Bell.
He was a narrow-shouldered man in his early sixties whose hands shook whenever Dominic spoke.
"Northstar Medical Logistics is an approved supplier," Martin explained.
"For what?"
"Emergency inventory transfers. Equipment. Temperature-sensitive materials."
"Between which facilities?"
"Lakecrest and several regional storage centers."
Dominic studied him.
"Who approved Northstar?"
Martin hesitated.
"Gregory Wallace."
"He's been here six weeks."
"The arrangement predates his employment."
"Then who approved it before him?"
Martin's eyes moved toward Evelyn's office.
Dominic noticed.
"Martin."
The older man swallowed.
"Some of the records were inherited from an outside consulting firm."
"Which firm?"
"Halden Risk Management."
Leo looked up sharply.
Dominic knew that name.
Halden Risk Management handled insurance compliance for several properties in his business network.
Including the warehouse where Michael died.
"Who runs Halden?" Dominic asked.
Martin rubbed his forehead.
"Charles Voss."
The room became very quiet.
Charles Voss was Dominic's oldest financial adviser.
A polished, soft-spoken accountant who had helped turn Dominic's rough collection of businesses into a sprawling network of corporations.
Charles attended Christmas dinner.
He sent flowers to Clara every year on her birthday.
He had stood beside Dominic at Michael's funeral.
And he had personally arranged a charitable donation to the fallen firefighter's family.
Dominic looked at Leo.
Leo's expression said what neither man wanted to speak aloud.
Someone close to home was involved.
Meanwhile, Evelyn sat beside Clara's hospital bed.
"Three months ago," she began, "I started noticing unusual transportation expenses."
Clara frowned.
"What kind?"
"Equipment transfers between facilities that didn't make sense. We were paying significant fees for shipments I couldn't verify."
"Did you report it?"
"To our compliance department."
"And?"
"The documentation disappeared."
Clara studied her.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Michael's name appeared in one of the files."
Clara's hand tightened around the blanket.
"My Michael?"
Evelyn nodded.
"Someone had listed him as a safety consultant."
Clara stared at her.
"Michael was a firefighter."
"I know."
"He didn't work for the hospital."
"I know that, too."
"Then why would his name be on your paperwork?"
Evelyn took a breath.
"That's what I wanted to ask Gregory."
Clara slowly lowered her hand to her stomach.
"Gregory?"
"He was hired after our previous operations manager resigned. His recommendations were unusually strong."
"From whom?"
Evelyn hesitated.
"Charles Voss."
Clara's face changed.
She knew Charles.
He had always been kind to her.
At Michael's funeral, he had held her elbow when her knees began to buckle.
He had called her sweetheart.
He had told her that Dominic would take care of everything.
Clara felt suddenly cold.
"Does Dom know?"
"I don't know."
Clara reached for her phone.
Then stopped.
She remembered Michael's final week.
How distracted he'd been.
How he'd checked the locks twice.
How he'd insisted on replacing the battery in their smoke detector despite having changed it recently.
And something else.
A conversation in their kitchen.
Michael had been holding his old silver watch.
He had opened the back with a tiny screwdriver.
"What are you doing?" Clara had asked.
"Making sure it still works."
She'd laughed.
"It hasn't kept the right time in years."
Michael had smiled.
"Sometimes a watch doesn't have to tell time to be useful."
Clara sat upright.
Dr. Chen immediately looked over.
"Are you having pain?"
"No."
Clara's voice had changed.
"Where's my brother?"
At 5:11 a.m., Gregory Wallace was trying to leave the hospital through the employee entrance.
Raymond Pike blocked his path.
"Mr. Wallace, administration asked you to remain available."
Gregory's face tightened.
"I'm going home."
"You've been instructed not to remove hospital property."
Gregory held up his briefcase.
"These are personal belongings."
Raymond looked down.
The briefcase was bulging.
"Then you won't mind showing me."
Gregory stepped back.
"Are you accusing me of theft?"
"I'm asking you to open the case."
For a moment, Gregory looked ready to shove past him.
Then a voice spoke from behind.
"Open it, Gregory."
Evelyn Hart stood at the end of the corridor.
Beside her was Clara.
She wore a hospital gown beneath a robe, with her fetal monitor temporarily disconnected so she could speak to the administrator nearby.
Dr. Chen stood close behind her.
Gregory stared.
"You shouldn't be walking around."
Clara touched her swollen cheek.
"Neither should you."
Evelyn held out her hand.
"The case."
Gregory looked toward the exit.
Then slowly released the locks.
Inside were printed financial records, a company laptop, and a red leather folder.
Evelyn reached for the folder.
Gregory caught her wrist.
"Don't."
Raymond immediately moved between them.
Evelyn pulled away and opened it.
The first page contained photographs of shipping labels.
The second contained invoices.
The third was a copy of a fire department incident report.
Clara recognized Michael's engine number.
Her breathing changed.
Evelyn turned another page.
There was a photograph taken inside a warehouse.
Several wooden crates stood beneath industrial lighting.
On one crate was a blue medical transport symbol.
On another was the Lakecrest logo.
And standing beside them, looking directly at the camera, was Michael Keegan.
Alive.
Wearing his firefighter jacket.
Clara reached for the photograph.
"Oh, Michael."
Dominic arrived just as she turned it over.
On the back, in Michael's handwriting, were six words:
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS, ASK DOMINIC WHY.
Clara looked up at her brother.
For the first time in her life, she stepped away from him.
"Dominic."
May you like
Her voice was barely audible.
"What did you do?"
