Chapter 5: The Night Before Friday
Her name was Grace Okafor.
She arrived at eleven fifteen, after Elena had quietly confirmed the corridor was clear.
She was perhaps fifty, with close-cropped gray hair and the kind of stillness that suggested she had sat across from dangerous people before and found them manageable.
She did not react when I sat up.
"Marcus told me you'd be more functional than advertised," she said, setting a slim leather case on the foot of the bed.
"How much do you know?"
"Forged transfer authorizations.
A staged accident.
A fiancée with a deadline and a cousin with a shell company." She opened the case.
"And a lawyer who should have his license revoked before the end of the week, if we do this correctly."
"Can we do it correctly before Friday morning?"
"That depends." She placed three documents on the blanket in front of me.
"I need your signature on these — your real signature — witnessed and timestamped tonight.
The first revokes all existing powers of attorney, effective immediately.
The second freezes every account Hargrove has access to.
The third initiates a fraud investigation referral to the DA's office."
"The DA's office."
"You have forged signatures, a documented conspiracy to commit financial fraud, and evidence linking a vehicle used in a fatal accident to your cousin's registered business address." She looked at me steadily.
"Nico d*ed in that crash, Mr.
Vance.
This stopped being a civil matter the moment he did."
The room was quiet for a moment.
"Sign," I said.
Elena witnessed.
Grace timestamped each page on a device she carried herself.
The whole process took eleven minutes.
"What happens at Friday?" I asked.
"Nothing happens at Friday," Grace said, "because by six a.m., every account they planned to access will be frozen and flagged.
Hargrove will attempt to file and find that the authorizations have already been revoked and reported.
The DA's office will have received a preliminary referral packet by eight." She closed her case.
"What happens Friday morning is that they walk into a wall."
"And Chloe?"
Grace looked at me for a moment.
"What do you want to happen to Chloe?"
I thought about her voice in the dark.
The perfume.
The countdown.
The way she had smoothed that second document flat with her palm, like it was something ordinary.
"Everything that's coming to her," I said.
Grace nodded once.
"Then stay in this bed until I call you." She moved toward the door.
"And Mr.
Vance — don't open your eyes for anyone between now and morning.
Not for anyone."
She left.
Elena stood near the window, her arms folded, looking out at the city lights.
"You should try to sleep," she said.
"You've been on your feet for fourteen hours."
"Fifteen." She didn't turn around.
"I'm used to it."
I watched her for a moment.
She was still wearing her uniform.
She had not eaten since I had seen her at noon.
She had handed over her only spare phone, witnessed legal documents, and positioned herself between me and a corridor full of people who would not hesitate to remove her from the situation permanently if they understood what she knew.
"Elena."
She turned.
"After Friday," I said.
"Whatever you need.
Whatever comes next for you.
You tell me."
She looked at me for a long moment.
"Let's get to Friday first," she said.
Then her gaze shifted to the door.
Footsteps in the corridor.
Heavier than a nurse.
Two sets.
May you like
Anthony's voice, low and close: "— just want to check on him before morning."
The door handle moved.
