Chapter 8: The Name I Didn't Expect
The name Harold said was Thomas Greer.
Thomas had been with the company for six years.
He managed the financial accounts.
He sat three desks from mine.
He had attended Mike's funeral and stood at the back with his hands folded and his head bowed, and I had thought at the time that he looked genuinely sad.
"Show me the email chain," I said.
"I'm sending it now."
I sat in my car in the parking structure and read it on my phone.
The chain started eleven months ago — two months after Mike d*ed.
Renata had initiated contact.
The early messages were careful, indirect.
She asked Thomas about the company's current valuation.
About Harold's plans for the future.
About whether there were any outstanding legal questions related to Mike's estate.
Thomas had answered all of it.
By the fourth exchange, the language had shifted.
Renata asked specifically about Mia — whether she was named in the company's succession documents, whether her stake had been formally registered.
Thomas confirmed it had.
Then: *Is there anything in the company records that could be used to raise questions about Mike's role in her life?
Medical leave records, anything related to his treatment period?*
Thomas had replied: *I can pull the HR files.
Give me a few days.*
I read that line three times.
Then I called Grace.
"I'm forwarding you something," I said when she answered.
"An email chain between Renata Voss and a company employee named Thomas Greer.
He pulled HR files on Mike's medical leave and gave her the information."
A brief silence.
"When did Harold find this?"
"This morning."
"How did he find it?"
"I don't know yet."
"Find out.
If Harold accessed those emails through normal administrative channels, the chain is clean.
If he accessed them in a way that could be challenged, we need to know before we use them." Her voice was brisk, focused.
"Either way, this is significant.
Thomas Greer may have committed a breach of employee confidentiality at minimum.
Depending on what he passed along, it could be more."
"Can we use it at the hearing?"
"If the chain is obtained cleanly, yes.
It goes directly to the coordinated nature of the challenge.
It shows this wasn't a grieving brother acting on instinct — it was a planned effort with inside information." A pause.
"Sarah, this is good.
This is very good.
But I need you to do something difficult."
"What?"
"Go to work today.
Act normally.
Do not let Thomas know anything has changed."
I looked through the windshield at the concrete wall of the parking structure.
"Alright," I said.
"And Sarah — don't go to Harold's office.
Don't call him from the building.
If Thomas is watching anything, we don't want him to know the chain has been found."
I drove to work.
Thomas was already at his desk when I arrived.
He looked up and gave me the same small nod he always gave me.
I gave it back.
I sat at my desk and opened my computer and did my work.
At eleven, Harold appeared in the doorway of his office and caught my eye.
He tilted his head slightly.
I shook mine.
He understood and went back inside.
At twelve-thirty, Thomas left for lunch.
I walked to Harold's office, closed the door, and sat down.
"How did you find the emails?" I asked.
"The company's IT system flags any external transfer of HR files.
It's a security protocol we set up two years ago.
I get a quarterly report.
I almost didn't read it this time." Harold's voice was quiet.
"I'm glad I did."
"Grace says if you accessed it through normal admin channels, it's clean."
"It was the standard quarterly report.
I didn't go looking for it."
"Then it's clean." I exhaled.
"Harold, I need you to do something.
I need you to preserve every email in that chain — every server record, every timestamp — and send it to Grace today.
Through your personal email, not the company system."
"Already done.
I sent it an hour ago."
I looked at him across the desk.
"You've been carrying a lot of this alone," I said.
"I made a promise to Mike," he said simply.
"To look after you and Mia.
I handled some of it badly.
I know that." He met my eyes.
"I'm trying to do better."
I nodded.
Stood up.
"The hearing is in ten days," I said.
"Let's make sure we're ready."
I opened the door and walked back to my desk.
Thomas returned from lunch at one-fifteen.
He set a coffee on his desk and opened his computer.
My phone showed a new message from Grace: *Deposition for Renata Voss confirmed.
Four days from now.
I'll call you after.*
I set the phone face-down and kept working.
May you like
Three desks away, Thomas typed something and pressed send.
He had no idea the quarterly report existed.
