Chapter 3 - The First Person Who Was Afraid
Grace did not sleep.
At sunrise she photographed both threats and drove to the local police department.
The desk officer listened politely.
“Any idea who sent them?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Has anyone attempted to harm you?”
“My husband is in prison for something he didn’t do.”
The officer’s expression shifted into professional distance.
“That case was adjudicated.”
Grace hated that word.
Adjudicated.
A clean word for a ruined life.
He created an incident report but made no promises.
Grace left angry.
Then she contacted Nora Patel.
No response.
She sent another message.
My husband is Ethan Miller. Halston Development. February 12. Please.
Three hours later:
Don’t contact me again.
Grace read it repeatedly.
Not “I don’t know anything.”
Not “wrong person.”
Don’t contact me.
Fear.
Grace searched Nora’s public information.
Thirty-six years old.
Former network engineer.
Moved from Pittsburgh to Baltimore soon after Ethan’s arrest.
Her professional profile stopped updating the same week Aegis closed.
Grace knew chasing her to Baltimore would be reckless.
She also knew she would do it.
Lucy stayed with Grace’s mother, Helen.
By four that afternoon, Grace was parked outside a narrow brick townhouse.
Nora arrived carrying grocery bags.
She saw Grace beside the car.
Stopped.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Grace’s heart raced.
“You know who I am.”
“I know your face.”
“Then you know why.”
Nora unlocked her door.
“Go home.”
“Someone enrolled a new authentication device on Ethan’s account four minutes before the transfer.”
Nora froze.
Only for a second.
Then entered her house.
Grace followed to the porch.
“Was it him?”
Nora shut the door.
Grace stood there.
“Nora, my daughter is growing up without her father.”
Nothing.
“He got eleven years.”
The door remained closed.
“Just tell me if I’m wrong.”
A deadbolt clicked.
Grace’s stomach dropped.
Then the door opened three inches.
Nora’s face appeared.
“You aren’t wrong.”
Grace stopped breathing.
Nora looked down the street.
“Come inside.”
The living room curtains were closed.
Nora placed her groceries on the floor.
“I told them this could happen.”
“Who?”
“Aegis.”
“What happened?”
“Halston had emergency administrative accounts.”
“To add devices?”
“To add anything.”
Grace leaned forward.
“Could someone have added a second phone to Ethan’s login?”
“Yes.”
“Who had permission?”
“Senior Halston technology staff. Two Aegis administrators.”
“Names.”
“No.”
“Nora—”
“No.”
She paced.
“You don’t understand who these people are.”
“Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Because you don’t.”
“My husband does. He’s in prison.”
Nora stopped.
Grace saw guilt.
“What do you know?”
Nora spoke slowly.
“Two days after the transfer, someone asked Aegis to purge a device enrollment record.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said—”
“The request came through a privileged Halston account.”
“Which account?”
Nora shook her head.
“I never saw the person.”
“What did you do?”
“I refused.”
Hope exploded inside Grace.
“So the record exists.”
Nora’s eyes filled with tears.
“No.”
“What?”
“My manager deleted it.”
Grace felt the hope disappear.
“Then why does any of this matter?”
“Because our compliance system made backup snapshots.”
“Where?”
Nora looked sick.
“Aegis stored long-term snapshots with a third-party archive vendor.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t remember.”
Grace stared.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I worked with seventeen vendors.”
“Think.”
Nora rubbed her temples.
“It might have been Stonebridge Archive. Or Northlake. Something with Bridge.”
Grace grabbed her phone.
Nora caught her wrist.
“Don’t search from here.”
Grace stared at her hand.
Nora immediately released it.
“They monitor litigation-related searches.”
“Who does?”
“Halston’s outside investigators.”
“How would you know?”
Nora looked toward a closed hallway door.
“My brother worked for Victor Halston.”
Grace waited.
“He warned me after Aegis closed.”
“Why did Aegis close?”
Nora gave a bitter laugh.
“Officially? Financial problems.”
“Unofficially?”
“We became inconvenient.”
Grace sat back.
Nora opened a desk drawer and removed a folded printout.
“I kept this because I knew someday someone might ask.”
It was an internal ticket.
User: EMILLER
Action: Secondary authentication device enrollment
Time: 20:39
Originating administrator session: REDACTED
At the bottom:
Deletion requested 02/14. Compliance exception denied by N. Patel.
Grace’s hands shook.
“This proves someone else enrolled it.”
“No. It proves an administrator session did.”
“Can we identify it?”
“Maybe from the archive snapshot.”
Grace looked up.
“Will you testify?”
Nora stepped backward.
“No.”
“You just told me—”
“I have a daughter too.”
That stopped Grace.
Nora’s voice broke.
“They called her school after I refused the deletion request.”
Grace stared.
“What?”
“Someone asked what time she was dismissed. That same day.”
Grace understood.
Nora had not simply moved.
She had run.
Grace folded the document carefully.
“You gave me this.”
“I never gave you anything.”
“Nora—”
“You found it.”
Grace understood.
Before leaving, she asked one final question.
“Who at Halston knew enough to order this?”
Nora opened the door.
“A lot of people.”
Grace stepped outside.
Then Nora whispered:
“But only three had the authority to approve it without an alert.”
“Who?”
Nora’s eyes met hers.
“Victor Halston.”
Grace waited.
“His chief technology officer.”
“And?”
May you like
Nora hesitated.
“Your husband’s brother.”
