Chapter 16: Terms

The night operations office had a desk, two chairs, a dead plant and a window onto the loading dock.

It was four in the afternoon, and Mateo was packing a box that had no business being packed.

"You're packing," I said from the door.

"Then I'm unpacking."

He did not look up.

"The head of security came by an hour ago," he said. "He's sorry, by the way. He said to tell you."

"Good for him."

"He also said the chairman called you in at six this morning, before you came down to the lobby."

I put my bag on the chair.

My phone sat heavy in my pocket, with my mother's shares signed over to Preston as if the wedding were done.

I had called the trustee's office twice since noon, and twice been told the filing stood until a court said otherwise.

"He did."

"And he offered you a trade."

"He offered me a trade."

Mateo set a stapler on the desk with great care.

"Mateo's job for the year, and a clean reference, if you sign a proxy over your seat. Did I get that right?"

"Almost word for word."

"You didn't tell me."

"I turned it down in the first minute."

"That isn't the point."

"I thought it was exactly the point. There was nothing to find."

He finally looked at me.

"Within the hour," he said. "Whatever either of us finds. That was your rule, Ingrid. I heard it in the camera archive."

"I know what I said."

"You threw it back at me in a linen room. You said I was already lying when I agreed to it. You were right."

"Then you understand why I..."

"I understand that you decided what I could carry and what I couldn't. Your father does it to you every day of your life."

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