Chapter 17: The Man Who Cut It

The lawyer's office was on the ninth floor on Lexington Avenue, and it had a very good carpet.

Two of Vittorio's men waited by the lift in dark coats. Rocco walked in front of me, and I walked in behind him.

The lawyer sat behind his desk with both hands flat on a leather blotter.

He was a thin man of sixty with a silk tie.

He looked at Rocco, then at the door, and then at me.

"Miss Brunner," he said. "I wondered when."

"You know who I am."

"I watched you leave a ballroom on a clip," he said. "Three million people did."

"Then you know why I'm here."

"I was told you would shout."

"I'm not going to shout," I said. "Put them in the lift, please, Rocco."

Rocco turned his head.

"Sabina."

"Put them in the lift. I'm not here to frighten a man into a lie."

He gave a short nod at the doorway, and the two coats went away.

I sat down in the visitor's chair.

The lawyer's shoulders came down a little.

"Someone paid you to make a recording of my voice," I said. "I'd like to know how it was done."

"That isn't a question I can answer."

"I can answer it myself. You cut my voice notes into new sentences, so I called the Wexleys fools and I called Quentin soft."

He said nothing.

"I recorded those notes in my own kitchen, on my own phone, for the man I loved."

I put my hands together on the edge of his desk.

"I would like to know who handed them to you."

A long minute went by.

Somewhere in the building a printer started up.

"They came from Quentin's phone," the lawyer said finally. "His mother manages the backups."

Keep reading free with an account. Start They Broke Me, I Hid His Son from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.