vendor invoices?”
His face did not change.
“Of course.
That’s operations.”
“Did you verify the work?”
“I have people for that.”
Daniel looked up.
Richard turned toward him.
“Something to add?”
Daniel stood.
“Yes.”
Laura watched him carefully.
“The invoices describe replacement of six rooftop compressor units at the Martinez property,” Daniel said.
“Only two were replaced.”
Richard shrugged.
“Then perhaps the others were delayed.”
“They weren’t.”
“You’re a maintenance supervisor, Brooks.
Not an auditor.”
Daniel’s voice remained calm.
“I’m the maintenance supervisor who signs the completion logs.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
Laura leaned forward.
“And the elevator modernization charge?”
Daniel answered before Richard could.
“No modernization happened.”
Richard looked at Laura sharply.
“Where are you getting this?”
That was the moment everything changed.
He had not asked whether the accusation was true.
He had asked where she got it.
Laura heard the difference.
Daniel saw that she heard it.
Richard seemed to realize his mistake a second too late.
He spread his hands.
“Laura, this is absurd.
We are stranded in a storm, and a maintenance employee is filling your head with accounting conspiracy theories.”
Daniel said nothing.
Laura looked toward him.
The old Laura Kingsley might have accepted Richard’s explanation.
Not because she was foolish, but because Richard belonged to the protected architecture of her life.
He had advised her father.
He had taught her how the company operated.
He had been present through acquisitions, lawsuits, recessions, and her father’s funeral.
Daniel was a man whose name she had learned that afternoon.
But the mountain had rearranged the hierarchy.
When her BMW nearly slid through a guardrail, Daniel had been the one who stopped.
When another vehicle lost control on the curve, Daniel had pulled her out of its path.
When the lodge lost power, Daniel had restored heat without drama.
And when she had demanded certainty from a world that could no longer provide it, he had simply dealt with what was in front of him.
Richard, by contrast, had arrived in the middle of a blizzard knowing exactly where she was.
Laura folded her hands.
“Show me your phone.”
Richard stared at her.
“What?”
“Your phone.”
“For what?”
“You said you were trying to reach me.”
“I was.”
“Show me.”
His hesitation lasted less than a second.
But Laura had spent fifteen years reading hesitation across negotiation tables.
It was enough.
Richard removed his phone.
“No signal now,” he said.
“I didn’t ask whether you have signal.
Show me your call history.”
His expression hardened.
“This is ridiculous.”
Laura’s voice became colder.
“Then it should take ten seconds to prove me ridiculous.”
Richard did not move.
Daniel stepped away from the fireplace.
Richard looked at him.
“Stay out of this.”
Daniel’s eyes were steady.
“I’m not in your way.”
Something about the sentence unsettled Richard.
He turned back to Laura.
“You’re exhausted.
You nearly had an accident.
We can discuss company records when we get to Denver.”
Laura stood.
“No.
We discuss them now.”
Richard exhaled.
“Fine.
What exactly has Brooks shown you?”
Daniel felt the folder under his coat.
Laura understood what Richard was asking.
He needed to know how much they knew.
She gave him nothing.
“Enough.”
The word landed harder than an accusation.
Richard walked toward the window and looked out at the snow.
