Her walk to Montgomery’s office seemed much shorter than usual. The polished floors reflected her image in brief, fractured flashes—like walking through a hall of mirrors she couldn’t quite escape. Her thoughts zoomed faster than cars on a racetrack. Too bad they didn’t offer anything helpful, instead of piling fear after fear, worry after worry.
Penelope knocked, then entered on Montgomery’s “Come in, please.”
“You wished to see me.”
“Yes. Please sit down.”
Penelope did, silently holding Montgomery’s gaze. She wouldn’t talk. Only answer. Too often people confessed to all sorts of wrongdoing just because they couldn’t endure silence.
A minute passed. Her blouse scratched her skin, and the smell of print toner made her nose itch.
Montgomery sighed. “You flagged theMadonna’s records. You knew something was off. Why didn’t you push harder?”
Penelope kept her expression placid—at least she hoped she did. “I was still investigating. It wasn’t clear what was going on, and I wanted to be sure before I brought it to your attention.”
“That’s not your job. It’s the registrar’s job to investigate inconsistencies. Your role is to flag issues, not solve them.”
“I did flag them.”
“Only internally.”
Penelope did not ask how Montgomery knew about them in that case. But the criticism was deserved.
“I apologize. I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me. It won’t happen again.”
Montgomery’s expression remained unreadable. Still, the tension in the air belied the notion that this issue had been resolved.
“May I ask what inconsistencies require an external review?”
“We received an anonymous tip and uncovered metadata irregularities. Protocol requires external oversight at this point.”
“I assume you can’t share more?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Is the review limited to theMadonnain Red?”
Montgomery tapped her pen against the folder. “An interesting question. Again, I’m not at liberty to answer your questions. We want to make sure this audit is free from any…influence.”
“Of course. Is there something else you needed?”
“No, that’s it. Thank you for your time.”
Penelope nodded and left the office.
None of this inspired confidence. Even the quiet click of the door behind her felt final, like a seal closing over something she no longer controlled.
Valentina surely had her hands in this somehow—but why? She already had theMadonna. Maybe this was her way of signaling that she knew the Collective hadn’t let go. Though Penelope couldn’t see what she was hoping to gain. Disruption? Delay? Leverage? On the other hand, perhaps it was payback for Penelope’s involvement with the Collective.
~ ~ ~
Penelope managed to finish the rest of her workday without spiraling into worry, but when she returned home, all bets were off. Not even Fuller stretched out on her lap purring stopped the freight train of her thoughts. What if she had caused all this by calling Valentina—and in doing so, sent the police closer to Lucia?
Lucia, who wanted to quit and was just doing this one last run to help Francesca.
And even Francesca only wanted to retrieve what had been stolen from her decades ago. The Collective’s usual work—precision theft, quiet swaps, targeted strikes at institutions—wasn’t the same as what Valentina had built, her empire of laundering and intimidation. Francesca’s group survived in shadows; Valentina thrived on control.
But was the Collective really better, just because Penelope knew them and felt an ever-growing affinity for one of them?
