Delacroix’s ex-wife: listed for prosecution. We’re trying to reach her, but she’s unresponsive. Someone from the firm is being sent today.
Another page. Richard’s name—expected. He’s willing to testify as a character witness.
Then Jessica’s name.
Richard catches it first. “Why is Jessica in here?”
Luca’s smooth. “She lives with you, right?”
“No.” His gaze darts to Alicia. “She’s my girlfriend. She doesn’t live with me.”
“Prosecution will still meet with her. We want to talk to her first.”
Richard nods tightly.
My gaze drops to Jessica’s title.
Pharmaceutical Sales Representative – Cardiology Portfolio.
Interesting. Out of everyone in this folder, she’s the only one with legitimate access to medication channels. But that doesn’t mean she’d plant a tracker, or bash cameras like a drunk burglar. Doesn’t fit. It’s too soon to chase shadows.
Meeting recesses for ten minutes so people can order lunch and hit the restroom. I join Richard in the hallway.
“How was Stella last night?” I ask, because it’s a decent question.
“Fine.”
“It’s a good thing Jessica was around.”
He bristles. “You asking if she stayed over?”
“I’m asking if your kid had a soft landing.”
“She did,” he snaps. “Jessica’s family.” He waits a beat. “She isn’t…whatever this is with you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means commitment, Bennett.” His jaw ticks. “Does your boss even know?”
He’s not wrong to ask. That’s the part that stings.
Before I answer, Gabe rounds the corner. Richard stiffens, gives us both a sour look, and ducks back into the conference room.
Gabe lifts a brow. “What’d I walk into?”
“Just sunshine,” I mutter.
As the meeting reconvenes, something in the earlier report hooks back in my mind—one more detail Gabe mentioned when we arrived:
Building keycard log showed no entries for the overnight window.
No one used the doors.
Which means whoever came in—didn’t enter.
They bypassed.
As I take my seat again, the folder open in front of me, the pieces float but won’t land. Smashed cameras. No keycard entries. Nothing missing we can identify—yet.