Chapter 13
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The following morning, I stood outside the towering glass and steel headquarters of Vanguard Engineering. The building was a monument to corporate wealth, reflecting the grey, overcast sky of the city.
Against Grandma Margaret’s advice to wait for a private investigator, I couldn't sit still. I needed to look the people who had employed my husband in the eye. I needed to see if they flinched.
I walked into the expansive lobby and approached the receptionist.
"My name is Claire Bennett," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I am the widow of Evan Bennett. I would like to speak with the CEO, Julian Cross."
The receptionist’s eyes widened slightly in recognition. She made a quick phone call, speaking in hushed tones. Less than five minutes later, a sharply dressed executive assistant escorted me up to the top floor.
Julian Cross’s office was opulent, overlooking the city skyline. Julian himself was a tall, imposing man in his late fifties, with silver hair and a smile that didn't quite reach his cold, calculating eyes.
"Claire, what an unexpected surprise," Julian said, walking out from behind his desk to offer his hand. "We still miss Evan terribly around here. He was one of our brightest minds. Please, sit."
I ignored his hand and remained standing.
"I don't want to take up much of your time, Julian," I said, watching his face carefully. "I was just going through some of Evan’s old files for a memorial trust I am setting up for our daughter. I noticed he spent a lot of time on the Silver Creek Bridge Project right before his accident."
Julian’s smile stiffened, just for a fraction of a second, but I saw it.
"Yes, he did," Julian replied smoothly. "A tragic loss of a brilliant engineer. We had to bring in a whole new team to finish his preliminary calculations."
"Did he ever express concerns about the concrete stress limits?" I asked directly.
Julian’s eyes turned entirely flat. The friendly facade evaporated.
"Evan was a perfectionist, Claire," Julian said, his voice dropping an octave. "He worried about everything. But I can assure you, the Silver Creek Bridge is perfectly safe. The state has approved every phase. I strongly advise you to focus on your foundation and your daughter, rather than reopening painful wounds."
"I appreciate your advice," I said, turning toward the door. "But I have never been very good at leaving things alone."
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As the elevator doors closed, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a text message from an unknown number.
“You shouldn't have gone to his office. You tipped him off. Meet me at the diner on 4th Street in twenty minutes. Come alone.”
