with a sender I recognized.
Samuel Baines.
Two years and eleven months earlier.
Subject:
C. Prescott file
My palms became damp.
I opened it.
There was no attachment.
Only a short exchange.
Sam had written:
Ethan, stop asking questions about this. I mean it. Delete the spreadsheet I sent you.
Ethan had replied twelve minutes later.
You told me the numbers were routine. They aren’t. If Caroline Prescott’s treatment orders were routed through Northbridge, then I need to know why the invoices don’t match the shipments.
I forgot to breathe.
Sam’s response:
This has nothing to do with her treatment outcome. Don’t make connections that aren’t there.
Ethan:
Then explain the missing inventory.
There were no more messages.
I read the exchange three times.
Then a fourth.
Caroline Prescott.
Treatment orders.
Northbridge.
Missing inventory.
My first thought was that it had to be a coincidence.
Prescott was a common enough
