Chapter 2 - The Damage Happened Before She ArrivedDr. Maren Bell did not look like someone Cullen expected to crawl across a dusty storefront floor before sunrise.
She arrived Monday wearing jeans, a wool coat, and white cotton gloves, carrying three hard-sided cases.
She ignored Cullen’s offered coffee.
Ignored Tandy’s questions.
Ignored Jolie entirely for the first twenty minutes.
Instead, she examined the glass.
She photographed each mark under several angles of light.
She pressed removable film over one area.
She measured.
She inspected the brass frame.
Finally, she turned around.
“These weren’t caused by ordinary window-cleaning products.”
Jolie exhaled.
Barely.
Cullen noticed anyway.
Tandy folded her arms.
“What were they caused by?”
“Some form of glass-etching compound.”
“Acid?”
“I’m not going to speculate beyond the testing.”
“But it was deliberate?” Cullen asked.
Maren removed her gloves.
“Damage this localized, on multiple panes, appearing over a short period? I would not treat accidental exposure as my primary theory.”
Jolie’s hand tightened around the strap of her bag.
Cullen looked at her.
“Could her equipment have carried residue?”
Maren glanced toward the bucket Jolie had brought at Cullen’s request.
“I tested the water, soap, applicator, blade, towels, and storage container.”
“And?”
“No relevant corrosive residue.”
Tandy frowned.
“Could she have used something else and removed it before you tested?”
Jolie’s head turned sharply.
Maren answered before she could.
“Anyone could theoretically do anything you can imagine. That is not the same as evidence.”
Tandy’s face reddened.
Cullen almost smiled.
Maren pointed at the newest mark.
“There’s another issue.”
“What?” Cullen asked.
“The progression.”
She showed him enlarged photographs.
“These marks continue developing after initial contact. Based on the pattern and surface reaction, this newest area was likely exposed several hours before Miss Cantrell arrived Friday.”
“How many?”
“I cannot give you a courtroom-perfect number.”
“Give me a useful one.”
“Most likely during the night.”
Cullen turned to Tandy.
Jolie had arrived at 5:31 Friday morning.
If the compound had been placed overnight—
She had not caused it while cleaning.
Tandy’s expression remained rigid.
“That clears Friday. Not the other days.”
Cullen looked at her.
“No. It doesn’t.”
He wanted evidence.
Not victory.
He had spent too long around his father to mistake one for the other.
Maren stepped toward the frame.
“There’s also residue here.”
She pointed to a nearly invisible discoloration along the upper brass seam.
“Someone may have applied the compound near the frame and allowed a small amount to migrate downward.”
Jolie nodded.
“That’s what the drip looked like.”
Maren glanced at her.
“You noticed that?”
“Friday.”
“You photographed it?”
Jolie pulled out the notebook.
Maren flipped through three pages.
Then five.
Then ten.
“Who taught you documentation?”
Jolie gave a quiet smile.
“Bad experiences.”
Maren handed the notebook back.
“Well, bad experiences occasionally produce excellent records.”
Cullen’s phone buzzed.
The security technician.
He stepped away.
“We found something else,” the man said. “The system interruptions require an access code in addition to physical cabinet access.”
“Who has codes?”
“According to your file? You, Ms. Reeves, and the previous owner.”
“My father is dead.”
“I’m aware.”
“His code should have been disabled.”
“It wasn’t.”
Cullen’s gaze moved toward Tandy.
She was watching Maren explain restoration possibilities to Jolie.
“Who used the code?”
“Carl Strickland’s.”
Cullen said nothing.
“Mr. Strickland?”
“I heard you.”
When the inspection ended, Jolie began packing her things.
Cullen approached Tandy.
“My office.”
She followed him upstairs.
The door closed.
Cullen remained standing.
“My father’s security code was used to interrupt the cameras.”
Tandy stared at him.
“What?”
“Repeatedly.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
“Carl’s dead.”
“Thank you, Tandy.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Who knew his code?”
“I don’t know.”
“You worked with him sixteen years.”
“So did half the people who kept this place running.”
“He changed passwords every ninety days.”
“Usually.”
“Who knew the last one?”
Tandy looked toward the window.
That was answer enough to make Cullen uneasy.
“Tandy.”
“Galen may have.”
Cullen felt something inside him tighten.
“Explain.”
“Your father gave contractors alarm codes when they worked overnight.”
“Galen cleaned during the day.”
“Not always. Before Christmas, sometimes they waxed floors after closing.”
“When was his code last active?”
“I don’t know.”
“You manage operations.”
“I manage operations now. Carl managed everything when he was alive.”
“Then why did you immediately blame Jolie?”
“Because the damage appeared on her route days.”
“After nights when my father’s code was used.”
“We didn’t know that.”
“You called Galen.”
Tandy stiffened.
Cullen watched her.
“You told me last week he called us.”
“He did.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
Silence filled the office.
Finally, Tandy sat down.
“Yes.”
Cullen’s voice lowered.
“You called him first.”
“I asked him a question.”
“What question?”
“What chemicals he used when he cleaned historic glass.”
Cullen stared at her.
“When?”
“After the second damaged pane.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“It didn’t seem important.”
“Everything becomes important when you hide it.”
“I didn’t hide it.”
“You omitted it.”
Tandy stood again.
“I have worked for this family sixteen years.”
“And Jolie’s worked for us six months. Which is why accusing her is easy.”
“I’m trying to protect the company.”
“So am I.”
Tandy looked wounded.
That almost made him angry.
“Who is the replacement contractor?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“The thirty-eight-thousand-dollar quote.”
“Panhandle Heritage Glass.”
“Who owns it?”
“Why does that matter?”
Cullen’s stomach dropped.
“Tandy.”
She closed her eyes.
“My brother-in-law.”
For several seconds, the room was completely silent.
“You recommended a thirty-eight-thousand-dollar contract with your brother-in-law’s company and didn’t disclose the relationship?”
“He gave the lowest quote.”
“That’s not the point.”
“He’s qualified.”
“Still not the point.”
“I wasn’t going to personally receive anything.”
“Were you receiving anything?”
“No.”
The answer came fast.
Too fast.
Cullen stared at her until she looked away.
“Tandy.”
She swallowed.
“He offered me a referral fee.”
“How much?”
“Two thousand dollars.”
Cullen felt as though his father had walked into the room and whispered, See? People disappoint you when you stop watching.
He hated that voice.
He hated more that it sounded reasonable.
“Did you accept it?”
“No.”
“Did you agree to?”
“I told him we would talk if you approved the project.”
Cullen stepped back.
“You’re suspended.”
Her face went white.
“Cullen—”
“Effective now.”
“For a referral fee I didn’t even take?”
“For failing to disclose a financial conflict while pushing me to fire a contractor you had no evidence against.”
“I was trying to protect eighty-eight-year-old glass.”
“No. You decided who was guilty, then arranged the solution.”
“That sounds a lot like something your father would have done.”
Cullen stared at her.
Tandy realized too late.
Again.
Only this time Cullen didn’t react.
“Leave your keys.”
Her eyes filled.
But she placed them on his desk.
Downstairs, Jolie saw Tandy leave through the side entrance.
She didn’t ask questions.
At least not until Cullen walked outside twenty minutes later and found her securing equipment in the pickup.
“You suspended her,” Jolie said.
“How do you know?”
“She left carrying a cardboard box.”
“Observant.”
“Occupational requirement.”
He leaned against the building.
“She recommended a replacement company owned by her brother-in-law.”
Jolie stopped moving.
“She disclosed it?”
“No.”
“That’s bad.”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t mean she damaged your glass.”
Cullen looked at her.
“She also contacted Galen.”
Jolie’s expression changed.
Still, she said, “Doesn’t mean she damaged your glass.”
“You defending the woman who wanted me to fire you?”
“I’m defending the part where evidence should matter.”
Something almost uncomfortable moved through Cullen’s chest.
Jolie saw it.
“Don’t look surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“All right. I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
“Most people enjoy watching the person who accused them fall.”
Jolie zipped the equipment bag.
“Maybe. But I have a seven-year-old watching everything I do.”
She glanced toward Posie, who was coloring inside the truck.
“I don’t want revenge becoming one of the things I teach her by accident.”
Cullen had no answer for that.
So he changed the subject.
“Why did your babysitter stop coming?”
Jolie frowned.
“She didn’t stop. She had the flu.”
“She’s been sick almost two weeks.”
“You keeping track?”
“Posie’s difficult to miss.”
The girl was currently holding a paper against the windshield with two stick figures drawn beside a giant cowboy hat.
Jolie smiled despite herself.
“My sitter had pneumonia. She’s recovering.”
“Posie’s father?”
The smile vanished.
“Not involved.”
Cullen immediately regretted asking.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t cause that either.”
He looked at her.
“You always do that?”
“What?”
“Answer painful questions like they’re weather reports.”
She closed the truck bed.
“You always ask personal questions after accusing someone of damaging your building?”
“Apparently.”
That almost earned a smile.
Before either could say more, Posie knocked on the window.
Jolie opened the door.
“What?”
Posie held up the drawing.
“I made the store.”
Cullen looked.
The building was represented by a large brown rectangle.
The windows were blue.
A tiny figure stood outside holding a yellow cloth.
Another figure, much taller, stood inside.
In black crayon.
Cullen frowned.
“Who is that?”
“You.”
“No. I’m this one.”
Posie pointed to the figure near the door wearing what appeared to be an enormous necktie.
“Then who’s that?”
She pointed toward the black figure at the rear of the building.
“The man I saw Tuesday.”
Jolie froze.
“What man?”
“The one with the green hat.”
Cullen crouched.
“When did you see him?”
“When Mommy was putting the bucket away.”
“Where?”
Posie pointed toward the alley beside Strickland Hat Company.
“He went back there.”
Jolie’s face drained of color.
“Posie, why didn’t you tell me?”
The child looked confused.
“He wasn’t doing anything.”
Cullen’s voice stayed gentle.
“What did the hat look like?”
“Green.”
“Anything written on it?”
Posie thought.
Then nodded.
“A V.”
Jolie closed her eyes.
Galen Voss had worn dark green company caps for years.
Cullen rose slowly.
For the first time since the damage began, suspicion no longer felt like fog.
It had a shape.
A history.
And possibly a name.
But that evening, Cullen received a call that changed everything again.
The security technician had checked the rear door.
There were no signs of forced entry.
Someone had unlocked it.
At 2:13 Thursday morning.
Using a key.
May you like
And according to the electronic contact sensor, the door had remained open for exactly sixteen minutes.
The exact sixteen minutes missing from the camera footage.
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