Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Green Shirt.
Mara woke at 5:37 in the morning with Adrian's jacket over her and a city turning blue beyond the windows.
The sofa beside her was empty.
She sat up slowly and found him standing at the far end of the office with a cup of coffee he had not touched.
His tie was gone.
His sleeves were rolled to his elbows.
The tattoos on his forearms looked darker in the early light.
“You didn't sleep.”
Adrian glanced at her reflection in the glass.
“I wasn't tired.”
Mara looked at the untouched coffee.
“That cup says otherwise.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
That bothered her more than if he had snapped at her.
Adrian Vale was many things, but he was rarely vague.
If he disliked a meeting, he canceled it.
If he distrusted a person, he moved them out of his orbit.
If he thought someone was lying, he said so and waited for the silence to become unbearable.
This morning he was doing none of those things.
He was watching her as if she had become a question overnight.
Mara pushed the jacket aside.
“What happened after I fell asleep?”
“Marcus brought paperwork.”
“At midnight?”
“Marcus has a poor relationship with normal hours.”
“That part I believe.”
She stood and searched for her shoes.
One was beneath the coffee table.
The other was near the bookcase.
She frowned.
“I don't remember taking those off.”
“You didn't.”
She looked at him.
“I did.”
Mara stared for another second, then laughed softly.
“That might be the most domestic thing you've ever admitted doing.”
Adrian's face stayed serious.
The laugh disappeared from hers.
“Okay.”
She folded her arms.
“What happened?”
Adrian set the coffee down.
“Where were you Sunday night?”
Mara blinked.
“That is a strange change of subject.”
“Answer it.”
Her expression hardened.
There he was.
The Adrian everyone else knew.
“I was at the cottage in Litchfield.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone visit?”
“No.”
“Did you leave after eleven?”
“No.”
“Did you lend anyone your badge?”
“No.”
“Your phone?”
“No.”
Mara stared at him.
“Do you want to ask whether I secretly robbed a bank while we're doing this?”
Adrian said nothing.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Oh.”
The word landed flat between them.
“You actually think I did something.”
“I think something happened.”
“And you think I was involved.”
“I think your name was involved.”
“That is not the same sentence.”
“No.”
His answer was immediate.
It took some of the heat out of her anger.
Mara picked up her bag from the chair.
“Then show me.”
Adrian hesitated.
That was another thing he almost never did.
“Show me, Adrian.”
He walked to the desk and turned the tablet around.
Mara watched the security clip once.
Then again.
On the third viewing, she stopped it herself.
The woman in green stood in profile by the elevator.
Mara raised her right hand beside the screen.
The scar beneath her thumb matched.
Her face lost color.
“That isn't possible.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
She stepped back.
“I wore that shirt last week.”
Adrian's eyes sharpened.
“Where is it now?”
“At home.”
“You're sure?”
Mara opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She pictured the laundry basket in her apartment.
She could remember throwing jeans into it.
She could remember a gray sweater over the chair.
She could not remember seeing the green shirt since Friday.
Adrian noticed the hesitation.
“So you're not sure.”
“I am sure I didn't come here Sunday.”
“I believe you.”
Mara looked at him quickly.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why does it feel like I'm being interviewed?”
“Because believing you does not explain that video.”
She turned away and pressed both palms against the desk.
The office suddenly felt smaller.
“What was on forty-eight?”
Adrian's silence answered before his words did.
“Old records.”
“What kind?”
“Records my father ordered sealed.”
Mara laughed once without humor.
“Of course he did.”
Adrian watched her.
“You say that like you knew him.”
“I didn't.”
The reply came too quickly.
Mara knew it.
Adrian knew it.
Neither spoke for three seconds.
Then Mara unzipped her bag and emptied it onto the desk.
A notebook landed first.
Then keys.
Lip balm.
A phone charger.
Two pens.
A folded grocery receipt.
A small silver locket she almost never wore.
And her security badge.
Adrian reached for the badge.
The plastic looked ordinary.
He turned it over.
A second thin card slid from behind it and hit the desk.
Mara stared.
“That isn't mine.”
Adrian picked it up carefully.
There was no photograph.
No employee number.
Only a matte black surface and a small silver V in the center.
He had seen that design once before.
It belonged to his father's private access system.
The cards had supposedly been destroyed after his death.
Adrian took the tablet and held the black card near its reader.
The security application opened automatically.
Mara backed away.
“What did you just do?”
“I didn't.”
A new screen appeared.
AUTHORIZED USER: MARA ELLIS.
CLEARANCE: LEVEL ZERO.
ISSUED: OCTOBER 14, 2008.
Mara read the date twice.
Then she looked at Adrian.
“I was nine years old.”
Adrian stared at the screen.
The card had been issued eighteen years before Mara first entered a Vale building.
A final line appeared beneath the authorization.
SPONSOR: GABRIEL VALE.
That was Adrian's father.
Mara's voice dropped to a whisper.
“You told me your father never knew my name.”
Adrian did not look away from the screen.
May you like
“I was wrong.”
THE SYNDICATE'S QUIET HOUR
