"I learned something about you," Reese said. "And I should have told you last night that I was looking into the car across the street. Fig saw it watching the shop. We wanted to know who it belonged to before we made things worse."
Willa's face did not change. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him. "Tulloch," she said.
"That's the name I was given."
"He found me faster than I thought." She said it without surprise, and that was worse than if she had been frightened by the news. "My name's Willa Deacon. Hart was my mother's name before she married Dad. I've been using it because I didn't want Harlon getting answers every time he asked somebody for Willa Deacon."
Reese nodded. "I knew your father."
For the first time, the stillness broke. "You knew him?"
"Not closely enough to tell you everything about him, but well enough to know he kept his word. He had three bikes through here over the years. Last time I saw him, he'd already lost weight. He didn't stay long."
Willa pressed her thumb against the corner of the intake folder until the paper bent. "He came here after he got sick?"
"He did."
The revelation struck her in a place she had not protected. She remembered Grant mentioning a long drive during one of the clearer weeks of his illness and saying he had taken care of something that needed taking care of. She had thought he meant a supplier, or an old account, or perhaps one of the customers who still called him for advice. She had been too exhausted to ask and too relieved that he was feeling well enough to drive. Now she realized there might have been another reason.
Reese waited until she was ready. "What does Neil think you have?"
"A USB drive," she said. "Pictures of the partnership agreement before Dad signed the new version, scans of the pages Harlon filed later, emails asking Dad to review changes he never had time to read. I made copies when I still had access to the office. The signatures look different, and the dates don't line up. Two lawyers told me photographs weren't enough to win a case by themselves."
"And are they?"
"Enough? I don't know. The originals disappeared from the shop's files. Harlon had control of the records by then. When I tried to get the old accountant to talk, she said she had signed a confidentiality agreement and couldn't help me."
Willa stopped and swallowed. "I know how it sounds. Girl loses her father, doesn't like the business partner, starts claiming everybody has lied to her. That's what Harlon says."
Reese shook his head. "The fact he says it doesn't make it true. It also doesn't mean we skip the part where we prove something."
Willa looked up sharply, and for an instant he thought she might mistake the caution for disbelief. Then she nodded. Her father would have said almost exactly the same thing.