Chapter 7: The Confession Aldric Didn't Mean to Give
I called Aldric back into my office at two that afternoon.
No Prescott this time.
Just the two of us, the desk between us, and a manila folder I placed face-down to my right.
"The invoice," Aldric said, setting his copy on the desk.
"Hartwell Environmental.
Everything's in order."
"I'm sure it is." I didn't touch it.
"Sit down."
He sat.
The practiced calm again.
Hands loose.
Shoulders relaxed.
"I spoke with Crosby this morning," I said.
"Oh?" Mild interest.
Nothing more.
"He made me an offer.
The Lakeshore portfolio for access to a specialist who might help the twins." I watched his face.
"Generous of him.
Considering."
"Considering what?"
"Considering he's the reason they need a specialist."
The calm didn't break.
But something behind it shifted.
A very small adjustment, like a door that had been open an inch quietly pulling itself closed.
"I'm not sure I follow," Aldric said.
I turned the folder over and slid it across the desk.
He looked at it without touching it.
The lab report was on top.
Below it, printed copies of the patent registration.
Below that, Genevieve's financial records — the payments from Crosby's holding company to an account registered in Aldric's mother's name.
He looked at it for a long time.
"You should talk to a lawyer before you say anything else," I said.
"But I want you to understand something first." I leaned forward.
"My children have ten days.
Maybe less.
The compound in their air supply has been there for fourteen months.
You installed the system.
Your name is on the contractor approval.
Crosby's company holds the patent on what was inside it."
Aldric's hands moved to the edge of the desk.
He didn't pick up the folder.
"I didn't know it would make them sick," he said.
"I was told it was a mild suppressant.
Something that would make them tired.
Manageable.
Nothing permanent."
"You were told."
"I was told." His voice had lost its smoothness.
"I didn't ask enough questions.
I know that."
"Who told you?"
He looked up.
"Crosby said it was harmless.
He said it would give him a window to negotiate with you.
He said once you signed the portfolio transfer, he'd tell me how to flush the system and the children would recover within weeks." His jaw moved.
"He said no one would be hurt."
"And you believed him."
Aldric said nothing.
"My wife didn't believe him," I said.
"She spent her last three months trying to prove what he was doing.
And then she d*ed.
And you stood at her funeral and shook my hand."
The room was very quiet.
Aldric's hands came off the desk.
He placed them in his lap.
"What do you want from me?" he said.
"Everything.
Every communication.
Every payment record.
Every instruction Crosby gave you, written or spoken.
Every name of every person involved." I stood.
"And then you're going to help me make a phone call tomorrow morning that Crosby Vane will not see coming."
May you like
Aldric looked at the folder on the desk for a long moment.
Then he reached out and picked it up.
