Evan had passed it for years.
He knew it only because a faded BECKET ADMINISTRATION sign remained near the side entrance.
The parking lot held six cars.
The lobby directory listed departments that no longer existed.
Merchandising.
Regional operations.
Store development.
Corporate accounts.
Evan took the elevator.
On the third floor, most lights were off.
A woman in a brown cardigan sat behind a desk packing ledgers into banker’s boxes.
“We’re not a retail location,” she told him.
“I know.”
“If this is about an old certificate, customer service handles those through—”
“I’m not asking you to redeem it.”
She paused.
“What are you asking?”
“Who purchased the lot.”
That was different enough to make her stop packing.
“What lot?”
Evan placed one certificate facedown.
Pointed.
BM19-CORP.
The woman leaned closer.
“Where did you get this?”
“My employer.”
“As a gift?”
Evan looked at her.
“As wages.”
Her expression changed.
“Wait here.”
She disappeared into the rear office.
Two minutes later, Leonard Beckett came out.
Sixty-two.
Work shirt beneath a cardigan.
Reading glasses pushed into thinning gray hair.
His hands looked wrong for an executive.
Too scarred.
Two fingers slightly crooked.
Hands that had unloaded trucks before they signed contracts.
Leonard picked up the certificate.
“I’m going to save us both time. These expired in April.”
“I know.”
“We extended some consumer certificates depending on the issue period, but corporate blocks were contract-specific.”
“I’m not asking for redemption.”
Leonard looked at him.