Chapter 6 - At 3:07 A.M., the Camera Finally Caught the TruthThe police did not tell Jolie everything about the surveillance plan.
She was grateful.
She had reached the point where knowing less occasionally felt like self-care.
The Strickland store closed normally Monday night.
Lights off at nine.
Rear door locked.
Alarm activated.
At 2:45 Tuesday morning, two officers waited in an unmarked vehicle across the alley.
Cullen sat with the detective in an office above the showroom.
He had been told not to confront anyone.
He intended to listen.
Mostly.
At 3:02, nothing had happened.
At 3:05, Cullen began believing Galen had sensed the trap.
At 3:07, a white van rolled slowly into the alley.
No headlights.
It stopped behind the building.
A man stepped out.
Green cap.
Dark jacket.
Even from the grainy monitor, Cullen recognized Galen Voss from the photographs police had shown him.
Galen approached the rear entrance.
He did not pick the lock.
He used a key.
The detective looked at Cullen.
“Stay here.”
Then Galen disappeared inside.
Thirty seconds later, another person stepped out of the van.
Smaller.
A man with a gray hooded sweatshirt.
Wade Reeves.
He remained outside.
Galen moved through the rear corridor.
On another camera, he approached the security cabinet.
Entered Carl Strickland’s old code.
The video feed went dark.
But the new independent cameras did not.
They watched him walk into the showroom.
He removed a container from his coat.
Cullen’s hands curled into fists.
Galen approached pane seven.
He reached toward the glass.
The detective spoke into his radio.
“Now.”
Everything happened quickly.
Rear door.
Voices.
Galen spun.
Dropped something.
Ran toward the front showroom.
Cullen heard the crash of a display stand.
An officer shouted.
Galen turned toward the staircase.
Straight toward Cullen.
The detective pushed Cullen back.
“Stay in the office.”
Galen reached the landing.
He saw Cullen.
For one strange second, both men froze.
Then Galen laughed.
Actually laughed.
“So there he is.”
The detective stepped between them.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Galen ignored him.
“Your old man should’ve minded his own business.”
Cullen’s voice went cold.
“You destroyed his windows.”
“Windows can be replaced.”
“You tried to blame Jolie.”
At her name, Galen’s expression twisted.
“She stole from me.”
“She quit.”
“She took my clients.”
“They chose her.”
“She was nothing before I taught her.”
Cullen felt something snap into clarity.
This had never been about cleaning.
Not really.
It was about ownership.
Galen believed teaching Jolie meant owning what she became.
Carl had believed employing people meant inspecting them.
Cullen had spent years believing protecting a business meant controlling every uncertainty.
Different forms of the same arrogance.
The belief that other people’s choices belonged to you.
Galen looked toward the shattered hat display.
“She’d have nothing without me.”
Cullen said, “That must be difficult for you.”
Galen’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Watching her succeed anyway.”
The rage was immediate.
And revealing.
“You think you know her?”
“No.”
Cullen looked straight at him.
“But I’m learning.”
The officer handcuffed Galen.
Outside, Wade had already been detained.
By sunrise, both men were being questioned.
Search warrants followed.
The van contained equipment, old Strickland keys, gloves, and records linking Wade’s company to replacement bids at other properties where Voss employees had been blamed for damage.
The investigation widened.
Three former workers were contacted.
Then five.
One woman cried when a detective told her they believed she had been falsely blamed for property damage twelve years earlier.
Another had lost a job.
One had paid almost four thousand dollars.
Jolie listened to those stories two days later.
She did not feel victorious.
She felt sick.
“He did it to all of us.”
Cullen stood beside her outside the police station.
“Looks that way.”
“I thought I was stupid.”
“You weren’t.”
“I knew something was wrong, but I stayed another year.”
“You had a baby.”
“I still stayed.”
“Survival decisions look different after you survive them.”
She turned.
“That sounded almost wise.”
“I have moments.”
She smiled.
Then her expression became serious.
“What happens to Tandy?”
Cullen had been expecting the question.
“She resigned.”
“Did you accept?”
“Yes.”
Jolie nodded.
“She wasn’t part of the sabotage.”
“No.”
“But she created an opening.”
“Yes.”
“And hid the conflict.”
“Yes.”
“Did she know Wade was working with Galen?”
“Police don’t think so.”
Jolie looked toward the parking lot.
“You going to forgive her?”
“That’s not the same question as whether I employ her.”
“I know.”
“I haven’t decided.”
Jolie nodded.
Cullen looked at her.
“What would you do?”
“Why ask me?”
“Because you defend people you have every reason to dislike.”
“No. I defend facts.”
“Same result sometimes.”
Jolie thought.
“I’d give her a reference that tells the truth.”
He frowned.
“Meaning?”
“She worked sixteen years. She made one serious ethical mistake. Don’t erase either fact.”
Cullen considered it.
“That’s annoyingly reasonable.”
“I charge extra for management consulting.”
“I believe it.”
They began walking.
Halfway to her truck, Jolie stopped.
“What?”
She looked at him.
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“Believing me.”
Cullen’s expression changed.
“I didn’t.”
Jolie blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“At first.”
“I’m aware.”
“I watched you because I expected to catch you lying.”
“You’re ruining the thank-you.”
“I know.”
He stepped closer.
“But somewhere between your notebook and your daughter telling me the G-H doesn’t get a vote, I realized I wasn’t watching to catch you anymore.”
Jolie’s pulse shifted.
“What were you watching for?”
“The truth.”
“That sounds suspiciously flattering.”
“I’m not good at flattering people.”
“No.”
“I’ve been told.”
“Probably by your ex-wife.”
“Frequently.”
Jolie laughed.
Then Cullen lifted one hand.
Slowly.
Giving her every chance to step away.
He touched one strand of hair that had blown across her cheek.
She did not move.
His fingers lingered for less than a second.
Still enough.
“Cullen.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
That answer almost broke her composure.
He leaned slightly closer.
Jolie’s breath caught.
Then her phone rang.
They both froze.
Posie’s school.
Jolie answered immediately.
Her expression changed.
“What happened?”
Cullen’s stomach dropped.
“Yes. I’m coming.”
She ended the call.
“Posie fell from the playground bars.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Her wrist.”
“I’ll drive.”
“I can drive.”
“I know. I’m still driving.”
Ten minutes later, they were at the school.
The injury was minor.
A small fracture.
No surgery.
Three weeks in a purple cast.
Posie seemed more offended by the school nurse cutting off her favorite bracelet than by the fracture itself.
That evening, Cullen brought dinner to Jolie’s house.
Not expensive food.
Not catered.
Two paper bags from a burger place Posie liked.
Jolie opened the door.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“You say that a lot.”
“People tell me I don’t have to do things a lot.”
Inside, Posie held up her purple cast.
“Look.”
“I heard.”
“You can sign it.”
She handed him a marker.
Cullen carefully wrote:
NO MORE MONKEY BARS.
Posie gasped.
“That’s rude.”
Jolie laughed from the kitchen.
Cullen added:
UNTIL THE DOCTOR SAYS YES.
Posie considered.
“Better.”
Later, after Posie fell asleep, Jolie and Cullen stood beneath the porch light again.
This time there were no police cars.
No flat tires.
No threats.
Just October air.
Cullen looked at her.
Jolie knew what was coming.
“So,” she said.
“So.”
“You almost kissed me in a police-station parking lot.”
“I remember.”
“Terrible location.”
“I’ve reconsidered.”
“And?”
“This is marginally better.”
Jolie smiled.
Then the smile faded.
“You’re my client.”
“I know.”
“You own one of my largest contracts.”
“I know.”
“You have more money than I will probably make in my entire life.”
“I’m aware that I have money.”
“That wasn’t the point.”
“I know.”
Jolie crossed her arms.
“I like you.”
Cullen went very still.
She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t look so shocked.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“All right. Continue.”
“I like you. Which means I don’t want to wonder six months from now whether saying no to dinner could cost me an account.”
“It wouldn’t.”
“I believe you.”
“Then—”
“But I need more than believing you.”
Cullen understood.
“You need the situation to make it impossible.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Then I’ll fix the situation.”
Jolie frowned.
“That sounds alarmingly CEO.”
“I’ll have Strickland’s exterior-maintenance contracts administered by our property company. Competitive bids. No direct reporting to me.”
“You don’t have to restructure your company because you want to take me to dinner.”
“I’ve been meaning to centralize facilities management.”
“You’re lying.”
“Partly.”
Jolie laughed.
Cullen stepped closer.
“Can I ask you again when the contract no longer belongs to me?”
Her expression softened.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He turned to leave.
“Cullen?”
He looked back.
“When that happens…”
“Yes?”
“Pick somewhere better than a police-station parking lot.”
For the first time in years, Cullen drove home feeling something he could not inspect, audit, or guarantee.
May you like
Hope.
And to his surprise, he decided not to examine it too closely.
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