Chapter 4: The Witness

All Monday morning I saw that FOR SALE sign, and by noon I knew who I was going to ask about it.

Lowell Distribution had a lobby made entirely of glass and a receptionist made entirely of politeness.

I walked in on my lunch hour in my scrubs, with the certificate folded in my bag.

"I need to see Elliot Lowell," I said.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No. Tell him it's Willa Hartnett, and tell him it's about a signature."

She picked up her phone and said it exactly like that.

I sat on a leather bench under a framed photo of the company's first warehouse and kept both hands on my bag.

Four minutes later the elevator opened.

Elliot Lowell was taller than I remembered.

He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled once and a pair of reading glasses pushed up in his dark hair.

At my engagement party he had stood at the back of the room by the coat rack, shaken my hand, and said, "Congratulations."

I had thought he was shy.

"Miss Hartnett," he said now. "Upstairs?"

"Here is fine."

"It's a lobby."

"Good," I said. "Then everyone can hear you answer."

The receptionist found something very interesting on her screen.

Elliot looked at me for a moment and did not argue.

I took the certificate out of my bag and unfolded it.

"You signed this."

He did not need to look.

"I did."

"You shook my hand at my engagement party. You said congratulations. You had already stood next to your brother and watched him marry someone else."

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