Chapter 2 - The Apartment That Didn’t Exist
Grant stopped in the doorway.
His gaze landed first on Julian.
Then Ava.
Then the photograph in her hand.
The change in him was immediate.
“What is that?”
Ava instinctively turned the photograph facedown.
Julian noticed Grant’s reaction.
So did Noah.
Julian spoke quietly.
“You tell me.”
Grant recovered quickly.
“I came to give you the Briar file.”
He placed a thick gray binder on the table.
Julian didn’t touch it.
“You recognize the photograph.”
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“I reacted because we’re supposed to be discussing a property matter and instead you’re passing around old photographs.”
Ava watched him.
Grant’s voice was controlled, but a pulse moved visibly near his temple.
Julian held out his hand.
“Ava.”
She hesitated before giving him the photograph.
Julian placed it in front of Grant.
“My father.”
Grant looked down.
“Yes.”
“So you recognize him.”
“Everyone who has worked here more than ten years knows what Charles Cross looked like.”
“The other man?”
“No idea.”
Ava pointed.
“That’s my father.”
Grant looked at her.
This time the surprise seemed genuine.
Julian asked, “Why were our fathers together outside West Briar?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“And why is the photograph dated three months after Charles supposedly died?”
Grant said nothing.
Ava looked at Julian.
“Supposedly?”
Julian’s eyes remained on Grant.
“My father disappeared when I was fourteen. His plane went down over Lake Michigan. Wreckage was recovered. His body wasn’t.”
Ava stared at the picture again.
Her father looked young.
Healthy.
Smiling.
Beside Charles Cross.
Three months after the crash.
Grant pushed the gray binder toward Julian.
“Whatever family mystery you’re imagining, it has nothing to do with the current relocation.”
“Maybe.”
Julian opened the binder.
The first section contained tenant certifications from six months earlier.
Ava moved beside him.
Apartment 1A — OCCUPIED.
1B — OCCUPIED.
1C — OCCUPIED.
Page after page.
Julian turned faster.
2A.
Her father.
OCCUPIED — MARTIN MONROE.
4C.
AVA MONROE.
OCCUPIED.
Julian stopped.
Noah compared it with the report Ava had brought.
The same units appeared as vacant.
“These were altered,” Noah said.
Grant exhaled.
“Obviously.”
Julian looked up.
“By whom?”
“That’s what we should investigate.”
“You signed the final report.”
Grant’s expression stiffened.
“I signed a summary prepared by Halcyon.”
“Without checking it?”
“We process hundreds of documents.”
Ava laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
Grant looked at her.
“Something amusing?”
“You’re explaining that you almost made my father homeless because reading was inconvenient.”
“I understand you’re emotional.”
“No.”
Ava stood.
“I’m poor. I’m tired. My foot is bleeding. My father has spent three weeks packing twenty-six years of his life into grocery boxes because your signature told him his home doesn’t count.”
She pointed at the report.
“That isn’t emotion. That’s evidence.”
Grant’s face hardened.
Julian said, “Enough.”
Ava thought he meant her.
Then Julian turned toward Grant.
“You’re suspended from Briar operations effective immediately.”
Grant stared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Turn over every related file.”
“You can’t seriously be taking the word of an applicant who walked in off the street—”
“I’m taking the word of your own original records.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
“This is a mistake.”
“Then the investigation will clear you.”
For several seconds, neither man moved.
Ava understood something then.
This was bigger than one building.
Men like Grant did not look frightened because of clerical errors.
He finally left.
Noah locked the conference-room door.
Julian looked at Ava.
“You should go home.”
“You just told me I had an interview.”
“I’m postponing it.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody planted a photograph in your folder.”
“I bought this folder yesterday.”
“Where?”
“Resale shop on Clark.”
Julian and Noah exchanged looks.
“What?”
Noah answered.
“Then whoever planted it either knew which folder you would buy or put it there before you bought it.”
“That makes no sense.”
“No,” Julian said. “It doesn’t.”
Ava thought about the store.
An elderly cashier.
Rows of donated clothes.
The folder sitting beneath a stack of old briefcases.
Nobody had followed her.
At least nobody she had noticed.
Her phone rang.
DAD.
Ava answered immediately.
“Hey.”
Her father’s voice was strained.
“Ava, there are men downstairs.”
“What men?”
“They say they’re from Crosswell.”
Julian heard.
He was already reaching for his phone.
“What are they doing?”
“Changing locks.”
Ava stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“Dad, stay inside.”
“They said everyone has to leave now.”
Julian’s face changed.
He called Noah over.
“Get security to Briar. Now.”
Ava grabbed her folder.
“I’m going.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
Julian looked at her.
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Neither was mine.”
For one second they stared at each other.
Then Noah said, “You can argue in the car.”
Twenty-three minutes later, Julian’s black sedan stopped outside West Briar.
The sidewalk was chaos.
Tenants stood beneath umbrellas beside boxes and bags.
A woman was crying.
Two maintenance workers were changing the front lock.
Ava jumped from the car before it fully stopped.
“Hey!”
She ran toward them, forgot the borrowed heels, nearly fell again, kicked both shoes off, and continued barefoot.
Julian followed.
A man in a rain jacket stepped in front of him.
“Building’s closed.”
Julian looked at the Crosswell contractor badge.
“Who authorized this?”
“Management.”
“Name.”
“I don’t know.”
Julian took out his wallet and showed identification.
The man’s face changed.
“Mr. Cross.”
“Put the lock back.”
“We were instructed—”
“I’m instructing you.”
The worker stopped.
Ava ran upstairs.
Her father’s apartment door was open.
“Dad?”
Martin Monroe sat in his wheelchair beside two packed boxes.
He looked older than sixty-one that morning.
The stroke had weakened his left side but not his eyes.
They sharpened when Julian entered behind Ava.
Martin’s face went white.
The cup in his hand fell.
Ava rushed forward.
“Dad!”
Martin wasn’t looking at her.
He was looking at Julian.
“You.”
Julian stopped.
“Mr. Monroe?”
Martin’s breathing became shallow.
Ava knelt.
“Dad, what is it?”
Martin lifted one trembling hand and pointed at Julian.
“You have his face.”
Julian understood.
“My father?”
Martin closed his eyes.
Ava stared.
“You knew Charles Cross?”
Her father said nothing.
“Dad.”
Martin looked at her.
There was guilt in his eyes.
Deep, old guilt.
“I promised.”
“Promised who?”
Martin looked toward Julian.
“His father.”
Julian stepped closer.
“What did you promise Charles?”
Martin’s eyes filled.
“That I would never tell his son what happened.”
The room went silent.
Julian’s voice lowered.
“My father survived the crash.”
Martin nodded.
Ava covered her mouth.
“Where did he go?”
Martin looked toward the hallway.
Fear appeared on his face.
“He found something inside Crosswell. Something worth disappearing for.”
“What?”
Martin swallowed.
“Properties.”
Julian frowned.
“What properties?”
“Buildings bought through shell companies. Tenants forced out. Records changed. Money moved.”
Ava looked at Julian.
This had happened before.
Martin continued.
“Charles tried to expose it. Somebody found out.”
“Who?”
Martin’s eyes moved toward the window.
A black SUV had stopped across the street.
His face drained.
“They found us.”
Julian turned.
Two men stepped from the vehicle.
No company badges.
No umbrellas.
They crossed the street.
Noah’s voice came through Julian’s phone.
“Julian, get out of the building.”
“Why?”
“I checked Grant’s personnel archive.”
“And?”
“There’s something you need to see.”
The downstairs door slammed.
Footsteps entered the stairwell.
Ava helped her father toward the back room.
Julian moved to the apartment door.
The footsteps stopped outside.
Someone knocked once.
Then a man’s voice came through the wood.
“Martin Monroe.”
Martin began shaking.
Ava whispered, “Who is that?”
Her father stared at the door.
“The man who buried Charles Cross.”
The handle began to turn.
May you like
It was already unlocked.
Someone was coming in.
