PART 14:

“She’s remarkable,” Claire said, standing up and trying to compose herself. “She is,” Nate agreed, “and terrifying. She sees things other people miss.” “Like her father?” “Maybe.” Nate smiled slightly. “Or maybe we just both learn to pay attention to what matters instead of what doesn’t.” They stood there in the gray afternoon light, and Claire felt something settling in her chest.

A decision, maybe, or a commitment. She didn’t know how to be the person Stella thought she should be, didn’t know how to find good things or make lists or believe that the world could be fixed, but she could try. “Thank you,” she said, “for this, for trusting me with her.” “Don’t thank me yet,” Nate said. “We still have to figure out who wants you dead.

” “Right.” Claire pulled out her phone and checked the time, nearly 4:00. Where had the last 2 hours gone? “What’s the plan?” “I’ve been thinking about that. The hack on your car was sophisticated, required access to systems that aren’t easy to breach. That means either someone very skilled or someone with inside access.

” “Inside access to what?” “Your life,” Nate said bluntly. “Someone who knows your routines, your security protocols, your vehicle information. Someone who could get close enough to plant surveillance software without raising suspicion.” Claire’s mind immediately went to her employees, hundreds of them, any one of whom might have a grudge or a reason.

“That’s a lot of people.” “Not really. We can narrow it down. Who has access to your car?” “Me, my parking garage attendants, the maintenance company, my driver, but I rarely use him.” “Who knows your schedule?” “My assistant, my security team, my executive team.” “Who has reason to want you gone?” That question hung in the air like poison gas.

Claire thought about boardroom enemies and hostile investors and competitors who’d lost deals to her ruthless tactics. She thought about employees she’d fired and companies she’d acquired and stripped for parts. She thought about 15 years of making enemies like other people made friends. “A lot of people,” she admitted quietly.

“Then we start with the ones who have both motive and opportunity.” Nate pulled out his phone and opened a notes app. “Make me a list. Everyone who’s had access to your car in the last 3 months, and everyone who might want you dead. We’ll look for overlap.” Claire started naming names, and Nate typed them with the efficient precision of someone who’d learned to document everything.

The list grew longer than she wanted to admit. Former executives she’d pushed out, competitors she’d destroyed, activists who blamed her company for environmental damage, even a few ex-lovers who’d ended badly. By the time they finished, the sun was starting to set, painting the gray sky in shades of pink and gold that seemed impossible after such a colorless day.

“That’s 37 people,” Nate said, looking at his screen. “That’s a lot of suspects.” “Welcome to my life.” “Yeah.” He pocketed his phone. “I can see why someone might want you dead, no offense.” “All offense taken,” Claire said, but there was no heat in it, just exhaustion. “Daddy!” Stella called from the picnic table.

“I’m cold!” “Okay, baby, we’re coming.” Nate looked at Claire. “I need to get her home, but I’ll work on the car tonight, see if I can find any more evidence of tampering. And you,” he pointed at her, “you need to be careful. No patterns, no routines, mix up your schedule, your routes, everything. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going before you go.

Don’t trust anyone completely.” “That’s already my life,” Claire said. “Then trust one person.” Nate held her gaze. “Trust me. If something feels wrong, if anything seems suspicious, you call me immediately, day or night. I don’t care if it’s 3:00 in the morning and you just have a bad feeling, you call.” “Why would you do that? Disrupt your life for someone you barely know?” “Because Stella made you cry,” Nate said simply.

“And the only people who cry when my daughter talks about good things are people who’ve forgotten what good things feel like. That means you’re not too far gone. That means you’re worth saving.” He walked away before Claire could respond, gathering up Stella and her homework and her colored pencils, loading everything into his arms with practiced efficiency.

The little girl waved goodbye over her father’s shoulder, and Claire waved back automatically, watching them disappear into the shop. Then she stood alone in that parking lot as the light faded and the temperature dropped and the city started its transformation into night. And she thought about good things.

Her mother braiding her hair, a mechanic who saw her through her armor, a little girl who thought everyone deserved a list. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Claire pulled out her phone and opened her notes app. At the top of a new page, she typed “Good things.” Then, underneath, one, my mother’s hands in my hair.

She stared at it for a long moment, then added, two, people who fix broken things. It felt inadequate and incomplete and nothing like the comprehensive, strategic lists she usually made, but Stella had said to start with one good thing, and Claire had found two. That had to count for something. She called an Uber and waited in the gathering darkness, and when her phone buzzed with a text from Nate, “Got her home safe. Stay vigilant.

N.” Claire felt something warm bloom in her chest. Maybe that could be number three on her list, people who check on you without being asked. The Uber arrived, and she climbed in, giving her address to a driver who didn’t recognize her and didn’t care. As they pulled away from Davie’s Automotive, Claire looked back one more time at the small shop with its faded sign and its parking lot full of ordinary cars getting ordinary repairs.

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