Chapter 7: What Derek Was Looking For
The woman at the agency was named Patricia Soles.
She had been the office manager for eleven years, and she had a weakness for people who made her feel important.
Derek Holt had identified this in approximately four minutes.
"I'm not asking for anything confidential," he told her, his voice warm and unhurried.
"I'm doing due diligence on behalf of a client who's considering Ms.
Mercer for a private household role.
Completely standard."
"We don't normally share employee details," Patricia said.
"Of course not.
I'm only asking about her general conduct record.
Any complaints.
Any incidents.
Anything that would be relevant to a family trusting her in their home."
A pause on Patricia's end.
"She's one of our best," Patricia said, and there was a note of reluctance in it, as if she wished the answer were different.
"Six years.
No complaints.
Perfect attendance."
"No incidents at all?
Nothing that was handled internally?"
"Nothing."
"What about her personal circumstances?
I understand she's dealing with some family difficulties.
We want to make sure she's in a stable position to take on a demanding role."
"I really can't speak to that."
"Of course," Derek said smoothly.
"I understand completely.
I appreciate your time, Patricia."
He hung up and made a note: *Nothing from the agency.
Try another angle.*
The other angle arrived the following morning in the form of a man named Glen Purvis — a freelance investigator Derek had used twice before, once for a background check on a potential acquisition target, once for something Derek preferred not to name specifically.
"I need pressure points," Derek told him.
"Financial vulnerabilities.
Anything that could be used to make her reconsider the position."
Glen looked up from his notepad.
"Reconsider.
You mean walk away."
"I mean make a sensible decision."
"And if she doesn't?"
Derek straightened his cuff.
"Then I need something that makes Julian reconsider her."
Glen wrote something down.
"Timeline?"
"One week."
What Derek did not know — what neither he nor Glen had accounted for — was that Marcus had flagged Abby's agency account the morning after Julian made the call.
Any external inquiry about Abby Mercer routed a notification to Marcus's phone within the hour.
His phone had buzzed during Patricia's call.
He had the transcript of Derek's questions by noon.
He placed it on Julian's desk without comment.
Julian read it once.
Set it down.
"He used the word *pressure points,*" Marcus said.
"I can read, Marcus."
"What do you want to do?"
Julian looked at the transcript.
Derek's name at the top.
Glen Purvis below it.
The phrase *make her reconsider* in the middle.
"Nothing yet," Julian said.
Marcus's expression shifted slightly.
"Nothing."
"I want to see how far he goes." Julian folded the transcript.
"And I want everything documented.
Every call, every contact, every step."
"You're building a record."
"I'm being careful."
Marcus picked up his tablet.
"There's something else.
Glen Purvis — I ran him when I saw the name.
He's done work for Derek before.
The Caldwell situation, two years ago."
Julian looked up.
The Caldwell situation had involved a whistleblower inside one of their subsidiary companies.
The whistleblower had withdrawn her complaint six weeks after filing it.
Julian had always assumed she had simply changed her mind.
"Are you telling me Derek used Purvis on Caldwell?" Julian asked.
"I'm telling you Purvis was paid from one of Derek's personal accounts during the same month the Caldwell complaint was withdrawn." Marcus paused.
"I can't tell you what he was paid to do."
Julian stood up slowly.
He moved to the window.
Outside, the city was the same city it always was.
The same light.
The same noise.
Eleven years of partnership.
Two companies.
Hundreds of decisions made across the same table.
"Pull everything on Caldwell," Julian said.
"Everything we have internally.
And find out where she is now."
"The whistleblower?"
"Yes."
"Julian." Marcus's voice was careful.
"If Purvis was used to pressure her — that's not a business dispute.
That's—"
"I know what it is," Julian said.
"Pull the file."
Marcus left.
Julian stayed at the window.
He thought about Derek's voice on the phone: *I'm protecting the partnership.*
He thought about a woman in a coffee shop, hands wrapped around a cup, asking him directly: *What's the real reason?*
He thought about thirty-one people who had taken the money.
He thought about the one who hadn't.
His phone buzzed.
A text from Abby: *I've made my decision.
I'll send it in writing tomorrow morning as agreed.
But I wanted you to know tonight: yes.*
May you like
Julian read it twice.
Then he looked back out the window and felt, for the first time in a long time, that something was about to go very wrong before it could go right.
