The File Marked Priority
Chapter 02 - The File Marked Priority
Mave did not ride home with Vincent.
He asked once.
She said no.
For the first time in three years, he accepted the answer without turning it into a negotiation.
Leo drove her instead.
That irritated her too.
By midnight, she was sitting at her kitchen table in Queens with the photograph beneath a bright lamp.
Her mother, Elaine, had died six years earlier.
Stroke.
Sudden.
No warning.
At least that was the version Mave had lived with.
Elaine had spent most of Mave’s childhood working as an office manager for a medical-supply company in New Jersey.
She had never mentioned Costa Terminal.
Never mentioned Vincent’s father.
Never mentioned trucks.
Mave turned the photograph over again.
COSTA TERMINAL — NIGHT SHIFT.
Her phone rang.
Vincent.
She let it ring out.
Again.
She declined.
The third call came from Leo.
“Before you ignore me too, somebody is outside.”
Mave stood.
“Outside what?”
“Your building.”
She moved toward the window.
Leo stopped her.
“Don’t.”
“Are you downstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Vincent told me to make sure you got home.”
“I got home forty minutes ago.”
“I know.”
“And you stayed.”
“Yes.”
Mave closed her eyes.
“This family has a serious boundary problem.”
“No argument.”
A gray sedan sat across the street.
Same color as the one behind the Maybach.
“Is that the gala stranger?”
“Don’t know.”
“Then find out.”
Leo almost laughed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She watched from the side of the curtain despite his warning.
A minute later, the sedan pulled away.
Leo did not follow.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not leaving your building.”
“Vincent’s order?”
“My decision.”
That answer made her less angry.
Not much.
At nine the next morning, Mave entered Costa Logistics through the employee entrance.
The receptionist looked at her strangely.
So did the two men near security.
News had traveled.
Of course.
Vincent’s office door stood open.
He was waiting.
Mave placed the photograph on his desk.
“No coffee today.”
“I noticed.”
“Start talking.”
Vincent leaned back.
“You want the long version?”
“I want the version you would give if you knew I could verify every sentence.”
Something like approval crossed his face.
Mave hated it.
“Your mother’s maiden name was Elaine Mercer.”
“I know.”
“She worked for Costa Freight eighteen years ago.”
“I did not know.”
“She was an internal accounting clerk.”
“Then why do I have photographs of her at a terminal at night?”
“She audited inventory.”
“Did she work for your father directly?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you know her?”
“Yes.”
Mave stopped.
“How well?”
Vincent looked at the photograph.
“Not well.”
“That phrase is doing a lot of work.”
“She was twenty-eight. I was twenty-two.”
“You remember exact ages for someone you did not know well.”
His jaw tightened.
Good.
“Keep going.”
“My father trusted her.”
“Your father trusted no one.”
“Exactly.”
Mave looked down at the photograph.
“Why?”
Vincent was silent.
“Vincent.”
“She found money missing.”
Thirty thousand.
Mave’s stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“Not thirty thousand.”
“What?”
His eyes lifted.
“You highlighted a thirty-thousand-dollar discrepancy yesterday.”
“How do you know?”
“You left the spreadsheet open when we went to the gala.”
“Did you go through my desk?”
“It’s my office.”
“It’s my workstation.”
He paused.
“Fair.”
Mave almost laughed.
“Where did the old missing money go?”
“A protected payment system.”
“For what?”
Vincent looked toward the closed door.
Then back.
“My father paid people to disappear.”
Mave’s skin went cold.
“Witnesses?”
“Sometimes.”
“Enemies?”
“Sometimes.”
“My mother?”
Vincent did not answer.
Mave felt the room tilt.
“You helped her disappear.”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
“My father.”
Silence.
That answer was not one she had prepared for.
“Why would your father want her found?”
“She copied accounting records.”
“What records?”
“Payments to city officials. Port inspectors. Police.”
Mave sat slowly.
“My mother was a whistleblower.”
“Eventually.”
“What does that mean?”
“At first she used the information as leverage.”
Mave looked up sharply.
“Blackmail?”
“No.”
Vincent shook his head.
“She threatened to expose it unless my father stopped using one trucking route.”
“Why that route?”
“Because people were disappearing through it.”
Mave stared.
“What people?”
“Undocumented workers. Debtors. Men who knew too much.”
“You’re telling me your family trafficked people.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“My father’s organization did.”
“And yours?”
“No.”
“Because you say so?”
“Yes.”
Wrong answer.
He knew it.
Vincent leaned forward.
“I shut that route after he died.”
“That is better.”
Mave took off her glasses.
“Why was my application marked priority?”
Vincent looked away.
There.
Cowardice.
Human.
Infuriating.
“HR flagged your surname.”
“Which surname?”
“Mercer was listed as your mother’s previous name on the background check.”
“You ran a background check.”
“Yes.”
“I knew that.”
“Not that one.”
Mave stared.
“How deep?”
“Deeper than standard.”
“Why?”
“Because of who your mother was.”
“So you recognized me when I applied.”
“I recognized the connection.”
“And still hired me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vincent’s voice lowered.
“Because I wanted to know whether somebody had sent you.”
Mave stood.
“You thought I was a spy.”
“For about a month.”
“And after?”
“I realized you were exactly what you looked like.”
“A woman who needed a job.”
“Yes.”
“And you kept the file.”
“Yes.”
“Did you monitor me?”
Vincent did not answer quickly enough.
Mave laughed.
“How?”
“Not personally.”
“That is not the distinction you think it is.”
“One security review every quarter.”
“Of what?”
“Financial changes. Unusual contacts. Threat indicators.”
“You tracked my life.”
“I made sure nobody connected to my father contacted you.”
Mave stepped away.
“You do not get to rename surveillance as protection because it sounds kinder.”
Vincent’s expression tightened.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The office went quiet.
Mave thought of Leo’s comment.
A tether.
She thought of Vincent watching her at the gala.
How much of that attention had begun before attraction?
How much had always been guilt?
“Did my mother ask you to watch me?”
Vincent looked at her.
“No.”
“Did she ask you to leave me alone?”
His eyes changed.
Mave’s chest tightened.
“She did.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“A letter.”
“Where?”
Vincent opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
Removed a sealed plastic sleeve.
Elaine’s handwriting.
Mave recognized it instantly.
VINCENT COSTA.
On the front, beneath his name:
IF MAVE EVER COMES NEAR YOUR FAMILY, LET HER WALK AWAY.
Mave stopped breathing.
“You had this for eighteen years.”
“Yes.”
“And when I applied?”
“I should have followed it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Vincent looked directly at her.
“Because someone else marked your application priority before it reached me.”
The anger inside Mave changed shape.
“Who?”
Vincent slid an internal hiring printout across the desk.
PRIORITY REVIEW — EXECUTIVE OFFICE.
Authorized by:
DOMINIC COSTA.
Vincent’s uncle.
Chief operating officer.
The man Mave had lunch with twice a month when she reviewed logistics.
Vincent’s voice became very quiet.
“I did not bring you into this family.”
May you like
Mave stared at Dominic’s name.
“Then he did.”
