Jenny went pale when she saw me reenter the lobby.
"Sebastian."
"I'm picking up my belongings."
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
"Nick said you weren't allowed back upstairs."
"Then he shouldn't have told me to clean out my desk."
Her mouth tightened.
For years, Jenny had occupied the front desk with the practiced calm of an air-traffic controller. Nothing rattled her for long: furious clients, missing executives, fire alarms, food poisoning during the holiday party.
Now she looked frightened.
I stopped beside her.
"What happened after I left?"
She glanced toward the security camera.
"Nothing."
"Jenny."
Her voice dropped.
"Nick called an all-staff meeting."
"About me?"
She gave a tiny nod.
"What did he say?"
"That there had been an incident."
"What kind of incident?"
"He said you became unstable after sabotaging the Apex pitch."
I stared at her.
"He said I sabotaged it?"
"He told people you might have been sharing information with a competitor."
I actually laughed once, though nothing was funny.
"Anything else?"
"He implied you threatened him."
"Did anyone believe that?"
Jenny looked toward the elevators.
"Enough people looked scared when he said it."
The elevator doors opened.
I stepped inside.
Before they closed, Jenny whispered, "Be careful."
The fifth floor was quieter than I had ever heard it during business hours.
Heads turned as I passed.
Then monitors became fascinating.
My office sat near the strategy bullpen, where eight people I had hired or trained worked around a cluster of whiteboards.
Marcus Lee rose from his chair immediately.
"Sebastian."
He was thirty-two, quick-minded and usually incapable of hiding what he felt. At that moment, fury was written all over him.
"What did he do?"
"Exactly what you heard."
"He can't fire you for stopping at a medical emergency."
"Apparently he can fire me for missing a presentation."
Marcus followed me into my office.
"I told him what happened."
"How did you know?"
"You texted me from Route 6."
I'd forgotten.
While waiting for the ambulance, I had sent Marcus a rushed message telling him to start without me.
WOMAN DOWN. CPR. CALLING POLICE. PRESENT WITHOUT ME.
Marcus shut the door.
"Nick deleted your message from the meeting-room chat."
I looked at him.
"He what?"
"I saw it before he removed it."
"Why would he do that?"
"You know why."
I didn't.
Not fully.
That was becoming the problem.
I opened the top desk drawer.
Empty.
"They packed everything already."
"Nick had facilities do it."
"Where's the box?"
Marcus pointed toward the credenza.
A cardboard carton contained eleven years of my life in no meaningful order: pens, two notebooks, a framed photograph, a mug Maya had painted when she was six, charging cables, old conference badges.
I lifted the photograph.
Clara stood between our daughters at Rocky Mountain National Park, all three of them squinting into the sun.
The glass had been cracked diagonally.
"How did this happen?"
Marcus shook his head.
"It wasn't cracked yesterday."
Underneath it lay my grandfather's old brass drafting compass.
One arm had been bent.
That made me angrier than the photograph.
My grandfather had given it to me before he died, telling me a person who knew where he was standing could usually figure out where he needed to go.
He had been a surveyor most of his adult life.
Quiet.
Patient.
Not wealthy.
Nothing like the Sterlings.
I turned the compass over.
A faint set of letters sat beneath the hinge, almost lost under decades of scratches.
A.S.M.
I had noticed them before and assumed they belonged to the manufacturer.
I slipped the compass into my pocket beside the titanium key.
Marcus watched.
"What is that?"
"What?"
"The metal thing."
I hadn't realized part of it was visible.
I removed the Sovereign Key and held it up.
His eyebrows lifted.
"That's not yours."
"Technically, I don't know whose it is."
"Where did you get it?"
"The woman I helped."
His face changed.
"She gave you that?"
"Right before the ambulance left."
"What is it?"
"If I knew, I'd be having a better morning."
Marcus leaned closer.
"Vance-Sterling."
I nodded.
"Any relation to Nick?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
From the corridor came the muffled sound of laughter.
Marcus glanced toward the door.
"Boardroom."
"Who's in there?"
"Nick. Carter Holbrook. Two Vanguard partners. Maybe legal."
"Carter came back?"
"He never really left. They moved downstairs for an hour and returned."
I thought of the fifty-thousand-dollar check.
"Why?"
Marcus gave me a look.
"You tell me."
I picked up the cardboard box.
Then stopped.
Voices carried from the main boardroom twenty feet away.
The doors were not fully closed.
Nick was speaking.
"—once Miller is out, there's nothing left to delay us."
Marcus looked at me.
Neither of us moved.
Another man answered.
Carter.
"Then noon is still viable."
One of the partners laughed.
Someone said something about signatures.
Nick raised his voice.
"To the merger."
Glasses clinked.
My fingers tightened around the cardboard box.
Vanguard was not supposed to be merging with anybody.
Not officially.
We had spent the last quarter reassuring employees that no acquisition was under consideration.
I set the box back down.
Marcus whispered, "Sebastian."
"Stay here."
"That's a bad idea."
"Most of my day has been a bad idea."
I stepped into the hallway.
The titanium key felt strangely heavy in my hand.
When I pushed open the boardroom doors, conversation stopped so quickly I could hear the ventilation system.
Nick sat near the head of the table.
Carter was beside him.
Legal folders covered the polished walnut surface. Champagne glasses stood beside several sets of documents.
Nick shot to his feet.
"What are you doing?"
"Collecting my things."
"Your things aren't in here."
"No. Apparently my company is."
One partner stared at the table.
The other reached for a folder.
Carter did neither.
He had seen the object in my hand.
Every trace of color left his face.
His chair scraped backward.
"Where did you get that?"
I raised it slightly.
"This?"
His eyes stayed locked on it.
Nick looked between us.
"What is it?"
Carter barely seemed to hear him.
"The Sovereign Key."
So the engraving wasn't ceremonial.
I moved closer.
"The woman on Route 6 gave it to me."
Carter's mouth flattened.
"Eleanor."
Nick turned sharply.
"Eleanor who?"
Carter looked at him.
Nick understood before anyone answered.
"My aunt?"
The room felt smaller.
I looked at him.
"Eleanor Vance-Sterling."
Nick's disbelief became anger.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"She's not well."
I thought of Eleanor gripping my wrist after her heart had been restarted.
"She seemed clear enough."
"She has episodes."
Carter cut in.
"Did she tell you anything?"
Nick looked irritated.
"Carter, what is this?"
"Did she tell you anything, Sebastian?"
"The same question again."
Carter stood.
"I need the device."
"No."
"This doesn't concern you."
"You offered me fifty thousand dollars to leave Colorado. I'd say you worked pretty hard to make it concern me."
One of the Vanguard partners frowned.
"Fifty thousand?"
Nick's eyes darted toward Carter.
Carter ignored both of them.
"The key belongs to a private trust."
"What trust?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
He stepped closer.
"Give it to me."
"No."
The word came out softly.
That seemed to provoke him more than shouting would have.
Carter's control slipped.
"That device accesses the trust records."
Silence.
I looked down at the merger papers nearest me.
An acquisition entity I'd never heard of appeared on the first page.
Anchor Oak Management.
The engraving on the key suddenly felt less mysterious.
"What exactly are you buying?" I asked.
Nick cut in.
"You have no standing here."
"I had enough standing to build half the client portfolio you plan to transfer."
"Had."
"Then explain why the woman you nearly killed your biggest presentation over knew Vanguard's name before an ambulance took her away."
Nick stiffened.
"What are you talking about?"
Before I could answer, footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Not hurried.
Coordinated.
The boardroom door opened again.
Three men and two women entered in dark jackets.
The man in front looked familiar.
I knew him from Route 6.
He had arrived after the state trooper, wearing jeans and an unmarked windbreaker, and had helped keep traffic back while paramedics worked.
I had assumed he was another officer.
Now a federal badge hung from his neck.
"Nobody touch the documents," he said.
Carter didn't move.
Nick did.
He took one step away from the table.
The agent's eyes found him.
"Mr. Sterling, stay where you are."
Nick raised both hands.
"This was Carter's arrangement. I didn't know what happened to Eleanor's vehicle."
The agent stared at him.
Nobody had mentioned Eleanor's vehicle.
Nobody had accused Nick of anything.
The room changed.
Nick realized it too late.
Carter closed his eyes for one second.
I looked at the federal agent.
"You were on Route 6."
He nodded.
"Marcus Vance."
I glanced automatically toward my assistant in the hallway, then back to him.
"Different Marcus," he said dryly. "You can call me Agent Vance."
"What is happening?"
"At the moment, we're securing records connected to an ongoing investigation."
"And Eleanor?"
His expression eased slightly.
"Alive."
The air left my lungs.
"She's alive?"
"Awake and talking."
I gripped the back of a chair.
Until that instant, I had not realized how strongly I had feared she might die after all.
Agent Vance's gaze dropped to the Sovereign Key.
"She told us you would probably have that."
"Probably?"
"You weren't part of the original plan."
Carter gave a bitter sound.
"That's a lie."
Vance turned toward him.
"We'll discuss that elsewhere."
One of the other agents approached Carter.
He didn't resist.
Nick began speaking quickly.
"I cooperated with everyone. I was told this was a standard transfer."
Agent Vance looked at the documents.
"Then you'll have plenty of opportunity to explain your understanding."
Nick's face had gone gray.
He looked toward me as if I had created the scene.
"This is because of you."
"No."
"You walk in here waving some piece of hardware—"
"You fired me before I knew what it was."
"I fired you because you abandoned the Apex meeting."
I stared at him.
"You told me I should have kept driving."
His mouth closed.
"You told me the woman beside the road wasn't my responsibility."
One of the partners slowly lowered his eyes.
"And then you told everyone I sabotaged the presentation."
Nick swallowed.
I picked up the broken photograph from the top of my box.
"You also told me to clear out my desk."
He said nothing.
I slipped the photo into the carton.
"You may want to start thinking about yours."
It should have felt satisfying.
It didn't.
Nick had been my boss for years. I had defended him, covered for him, believed his excuses, and assumed his worst habits came from pressure rather than character.
Watching his career fracture gave me no pleasure.
It only made me wonder what else I had failed to see.
Federal agents photographed documents and disconnected several laptops.
Carter was escorted out.
Nick remained under supervision while a lawyer argued in low tones near the windows.
I turned toward the elevator.
Agent Vance stopped me.
"Mr. Miller."
I looked back.
"Eleanor wants to see you."
"Why?"
"She has some explaining to do."
"About the key?"
"Among other things."
I shifted the box under one arm.
"What other things?"
His attention moved to my pocket.
The bent end of my grandfather's brass compass protruded above the fabric.
Agent Vance stared at it for a moment too long.
Then he met my eyes.
"Eleanor says she needs to tell you why she knew your name before you ever pulled over."
For the second time that morning, the floor seemed to move beneath me.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: Eleanor Told Me the Highway Meeting Was Never an Accident, Then My Grandfather’s Bent Compass Opened a Family Secret Buried for Decades
The Woman Beside Route Six Knew My Name Before Her Heart Stopped, and Somehow My Boss Knew I Had Found Her
Part 2 of 20
