Chapter 13: Page One Hundred Fifty-Six

Vaughn's POV

She did not say no.

I stood in the Palmer ballroom with two hundred people watching.

I waited for her to say it, and she didn't.

"Is it true?" I asked.

Her mouth shook. "Yes."

"All of it?"

"Vaughn, not here."

"Here is where he put it."

My father held out a thin black folder across the tablecloth.

"A hundred and fifty-six pages, son," he said. "She types a very tidy report."

I took the folder, because my hands needed something to do.

Tara reached for my sleeve.

I stepped back, and her fingers closed on air.

I had never done that to her.

I watched her understand that I had.

Somebody near the stage whispered the word spy.

The murmur spread across the ballroom.

My father sat down and picked up his spoon.

I walked out through the middle of the room, and nobody stopped me.

Rory caught me at the coat check.

He didn't say a word. He took the folder out of my hand, put me in his car and drove.

We were on Lake Shore Drive before I opened it.

Each Friday had a page, and each page held one line.

Almost every line was nothing. All quiet. He's at his desk. Nothing new.

Someone had stuck yellow tabs on four of them.

The first was from the spring before last: Vaughn is closing Brenner on the 14th. He hasn't told the board.

My father had bought the building across the street on the 12th.

I had lost Brenner by two days and fired a vice president for the leak.

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