Lydia picked up the phone and turned it toward me.
“My son has become careless,” she said. “Careless men endanger families.”
“Where is he?”
“Somewhere he once sent other people.”
I felt sick.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because,” Lydia said, “you and I now have a mutual problem.”
“I don’t have anything mutual with you.”
“You have my ledgers.”
My blood chilled.
She leaned closer.
“You thought you found Grant’s secrets. You found mine.”
Outside the room, footsteps passed by. No one entered.
Lydia’s voice dropped.
“Blackroom is not a company, Clara. It is a door. Behind it are people who do not tolerate exposure. Your little timed release made them nervous.”
“Good.”
“Not good,” she said. “Nervous people burn evidence. Nervous people kill witnesses. Nervous people remove loose ends.” Her eyes sharpened. “You are a loose end with a talent for numbers.”
I forced myself to breathe slowly.
