Andrew looked sick.
Jordan frowned. “What is it?”
Rachel studied the device. “Signal jammer.”
Patricia shook her head. “I have never seen that.”
Rachel looked at her. “Nobody said you had.”
The security officer continued. “It wasn’t active. Looks like somebody installed it recently but scheduled remote activation.”
Jordan looked toward the hallway cameras.
“How long would it disrupt feeds?”
“Maybe eight to twelve minutes.”
Rachel’s face hardened.
The question Jordan had asked suddenly stopped sounding paranoid.
Someone knew he was coming.
Someone sent a message identifying him as an unknown visitor.
Someone placed a device capable of blacking out the corridor.
And Patricia had been waiting at the elevator.
Jordan looked at her slowly. “You were supposed to start something.” Patricia’s lips parted.
“No.”
Rachel watched her face. “Maybe not knowingly.”
Patricia stared at the jammer.
Jordan continued. “You create a confrontation. Security responds. Cameras go dark.”
Her breathing changed.
Rachel looked toward Andrew. “Check all recent logins on the council account.”
He worked quickly.
Before he finished, a man stepped from the residents’ lounge.
Jordan had noticed him earlier.
Late fifties.
Silver hair.
Perfect charcoal suit.
No visible concern.
He had watched nearly the entire confrontation while holding a cup of espresso and had been the only resident who seemed entertained rather than shocked.
“Gentlemen,” the man said. Then he glanced toward Rachel. “Counsel.”
Jordan knew him immediately.
Charles Fairmont.
Former managing partner of Fairmont Development.
The company that had originally built Sterling Crest.
The company that had lost it.
Charles smiled as though they had met at a charity luncheon. “This is becoming unnecessarily dramatic.”
Jordan turned toward him.
“Is it?”
Charles looked toward Patricia. “A resident overreacted to someone she didn’t recognize. Embarrassing, certainly, but hardly a corporate conspiracy.”
Rachel’s expression did not change. “Nobody said conspiracy.”
Charles’s smile weakened.
Jordan noticed.
So did Rachel.
Patricia looked toward Charles.
Fear moved into her face.
Not fear of Jordan this time.
Recognition.
Jordan watched her. “Patricia?”
She said nothing.
Charles took a sip of espresso.
Rachel closed the tablet. “You look like you want to say something.”
Patricia’s voice emerged quietly. “He told me Jordan was a consultant.”
Everything stopped.
Charles lowered the cup.
Jordan remained still.
Rachel looked toward Patricia. “Who told you?”
She pointed toward Charles.
The corridor erupted in whispers.
Charles smiled. “This is absurd.”
Patricia stepped toward him. “You said the person arriving today worked for the investment group trying to restructure penthouse access.”
Charles’s expression cooled. “Careful.”
That one word changed Patricia more than anything Jordan had said.
She looked at him as if hearing the tone clearly for the first time. “You told me he didn’t have legitimate reason to be on this floor.”
“I suggested there were security concerns.”
“You said residents had to create a record.”
Charles said nothing.
Rachel looked toward Jordan.
There it was.
Jordan folded his arms. “What record?”
Patricia’s face flushed. “He said management ignored complaints unless there was a documented incident.”
Rachel asked, “Did he tell you to assault Mr. Whitaker?”
“No.”
Jordan looked at her.
She lowered her eyes.
“No.”
That distinction mattered.
Charles may have created the conditions.
Patricia still chose the shove.
Jordan understood both truths could exist at the same time.
Rachel turned toward Charles. “Did you access the residents’ council account?”
“No.”
“Did you know Mr. Whitaker’s arrival time?”
“No.”
“Did you arrange for the signal jammer?”
Charles almost laughed. “You’re accusing me based on the word of a woman trying to avoid being sued for assault.”
Patricia flinched.
Jordan watched him.
Charles had made another mistake.
He discarded Patricia the moment she became inconvenient.
People who use others usually reveal themselves fastest when the tool stops working.
Andrew’s tablet chimed.
Everyone turned.
He stared at the screen.
Rachel stepped closer. “What?”
Andrew swallowed. “Council account was accessed last night from an external device.”
Charles’s smile disappeared.
Jordan looked toward him.
Andrew continued. “IP belongs to a private network registered to Fairmont Advisory Services.”
Patricia closed her eyes.
Charles said nothing.
Rachel’s voice remained even. “Interesting.”
Then the security officer’s phone rang.