Chapter 5 - The Signature
Cormack’s private physician examined Toby at a townhouse no public record connected to the Vale name.
The boy was dehydrated.
Exhausted.
But stable.
Sloan stayed beside him until dawn.
Cormack stayed in the hallway.
He had no reason to.
There were calls waiting.
Lawyers.
Riverline investors.
Three men asking whether rumors about Calumet Harbor concerned him.
He ignored all of them.
At 5:06 a.m., the doctor emerged.
“He needs rest, medication, and a proper cardiology assessment within forty-eight hours.”
Cormack nodded.
“Arrange it.”
Sloan appeared behind the doctor.
“No.”
Cormack looked at her.
She wore borrowed sweatpants and one of Fitz’s oversized sweaters.
Her hair was still tangled from captivity.
She looked younger.
And somehow more stubborn.
“No what?”
“No private hospital controlled by your people.”
Cormack’s jaw shifted.
“My people are why your brother is alive.”
“My brother was kidnapped through a hospital system controlled by Marsh’s people.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“To me it is.”
They stared at each other.
The doctor wisely disappeared.
Cormack crossed his arms.
“What do you suggest?”
“Northwestern Memorial. Real admission. Real paperwork.”
“That makes him visible.”
“That makes him documented.”
Cormack considered it.
Sloan added, “Marsh survived because everything happens quietly. Transfers. threats. favors. People disappearing between one system and another. I’m done being quiet.”
Cormack looked at her for several seconds.
“All right.”
Sloan blinked.
She had expected resistance.
“You agree?”
“I’m capable of it.”
“Apparently.”
A faint smile touched her mouth.
It disappeared quickly.
Cormack noticed anyway.
By noon, Toby was admitted under his own name.
Two plainclothes officers hired through an independent security firm watched the floor.
No Vale employees.
Sloan’s condition.
Cormack accepted it.
Then he took Sloan to a secure office near the river.
The forged Riverline agreement waited on the conference table.
Fitz had obtained a copy from county records that morning.
Cormack examined his signature.
Perfect.
Almost.
Sloan stood beside him.
“It is yours.”
“No.”
“The signature is.”
Cormack looked at her.
She pointed to the final stroke.
“Someone lifted it from another document. See how the ink density is uniform? Real signatures vary in pressure.”
Cormack leaned closer.
“And the notary?”
Sloan’s face tightened.
“My seal.”
Cormack looked at the embossed mark.
SLOAN E. WHITAKER.
“You notarized it?”
“No.”
“But your seal—”
“Was in my desk for six years.”
Fitz cursed softly.
Sloan continued.
“That’s why Gideon needed me alive at first. If anyone challenged the transfer, I could confirm it.”
“And if you refused?”
“They had Toby.”
Cormack understood.
The entire scheme depended on respectable signatures surrounding theft.
Nobody needed a gun when legal paper did the killing.
Fitz placed another file on the table.
“We found something.”
He opened a corporate chart.
“Riverline transfers to North Meridian. North Meridian transfers to Marsh Civic Development.”
Cormack’s expression darkened.
“When?”
“Friday.”
Three days.
Sloan looked at Cormack.
“Once that transfer files, Gideon controls the project.”
“He can’t.”
“With your forged consent, he can.”
Cormack turned to Fitz.
“Stop it.”
“We can challenge the filing.”
“Do it.”
Sloan shook her head.
“That only delays him.”
Cormack looked at her.
“What do you recommend, counselor?”
The word caught her.
“I’m not a lawyer.”
“You were.”
“Almost.”
“You think like one.”
Sloan looked down at the contract.
“We don’t stop him quietly.”
Fitz leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
“We make him use the forged document publicly.”
Cormack understood first.
“You want him to defend it.”
“Yes.”
“In court?”
“No.”
Sloan looked at the Riverline schedule on the wall.
“The investor meeting Friday.”
Fitz laughed once.
“You want Gideon Marsh to commit fraud in front of thirty investors?”
“I want him to claim ownership.”
Cormack watched her.
“And then?”
“We prove the signature and notary are false.”
“Without admitting we stole documents?”
“We didn’t.”
Cormack said nothing.
Sloan looked at him.
“You did steal documents, didn’t you?”
Fitz coughed.
Cormack adjusted his cuff.
“Define steal.”
Sloan closed her eyes.
“Wonderful.”
For the first time, Fitz smiled.
“I like her.”
Cormack gave him a look.
Fitz stopped smiling.
Sloan turned back to the agreement.
“We need evidence with clean chain of custody.”
“Meaning?”
“The original notary journal.”
Sloan’s stomach tightened.
She knew exactly where it was.
“Halloway and Straoud.”
Cormack stared at her.
“You kept it there?”
“State law required me to maintain records. I locked the journal in a fire cabinet.”
“Can Preston access it?”
“Not without the key.”
Cormack raised an eyebrow.
Sloan reached toward the neckline of her borrowed sweater.
A thin chain hung beneath it.
Attached was a tiny brass key.
Cormack almost smiled.
“You kept it through kidnapping?”
“Marsh searched my purse.”
“Not your necklace.”
“He underestimated secretaries.”
Cormack leaned closer.
“He won’t again.”
That evening they entered Halloway and Straoud after office hours.
Not through force.
Through Sloan’s active employee badge.
Preston had forgotten to deactivate it.
“That’s insulting,” Sloan whispered.
Cormack walked beside her.
“Would you prefer professional competence from your kidnappers?”
She gave him a look.
“I prefer unemployment.”
They reached the twenty-second floor.
Dark.
Silent.
Sloan walked toward the records room.
Cormack followed.
“You’re limping.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“The shoes at dinner damaged my feet.”
Cormack looked down.
She wore flat sneakers now.
“You really stuffed paper into the left shoe.”
Sloan stopped.
“How did you know that?”
Cormack did not answer immediately.
“You walk differently when one shoe is too large.”
She stared.
“You noticed that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Cormack’s gaze held hers.
“I notice things.”
Something charged the silence.
Sloan looked away first.
They reached the cabinet.
Her key turned.
Inside was the journal.
Sloan exhaled.
“Got it.”
A light snapped on.
Preston Halloway stood in the doorway.
Two security men behind him.
His face was pale.
“You should have stayed missing, Sloan.”
Cormack stepped slightly in front of her.
Preston laughed nervously.
“You think he’ll protect you?”
Sloan’s fingers tightened around the journal.
Preston continued.
“You don’t know what he is.”
Sloan looked at Cormack.
Then back at Preston.
“I know exactly what you are.”
Preston’s smile vanished.
He motioned to security.
Neither man moved.
Preston frowned.
Cormack glanced toward them.
“They work for the building.”
He paused.
“Not you.”
The guards stepped aside.
Preston’s face collapsed.
Cormack walked toward him.
“You threatened a sick boy.”
Preston swallowed.
“I never—”
Cormack leaned close.
“Careful.”
Preston stopped speaking.
Cormack did not touch him.
He simply said:
“Friday. Investor meeting. Be there.”
“Why?”
May you like
Cormack looked toward Sloan.
“Because your secretary is taking minutes.”
