CHAPTER 154 - THE HONEYPOT

CHAPTER 154 - THE HONEYPOT
Alex's POV

Sandra had the look of someone who had run three stairs too fast and still kept her composure. She stood in my doorway with a small envelope and a face that did not want to tell me everything at once.

"You found her?" I said. My voice went flat and too steady.

"She came by reception this morning," Sandra said, and the words arrived like a line on a report. "Victoria. Said she wanted to 'make amends.' She asked for ten minutes with me."

"You gave her ten?" I asked. I already knew the answer.

"She asked politely," Sandra said. "I told her she could wait in the lounge. I went to fetch a file. I left my desk."

"You left your desk," I repeated. It was not a question.

"Yes," she said. Her hands folded around the envelope. "She was very charming. Very sincere. She said things that made Roberto look like the moral center of the universe."

I imagined the scene. Victoria smiling like a well-polished coin. Roberto listening and believing. The thought tightened something in my chest.

"What did she want?" I asked.

"She asked about the surveillance," Sandra said. "She asked if anyone had found the photographer's card. About the van outside Martinez's."

"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked. "You should have called security."

"I didn't want to create an incident in the lobby," she said. "I wanted to see what she would say."

"Smart," I said. "And?"

"And she offered me a role," Sandra said. She looked at me as if she expected me to laugh. "She said she admired my efficiency. She said—listen to this—she said she could make it worth my while, if I had to 'adjust some lines' for a friend."

"Adjust some lines," I echoed. The phrase tasted like rust. "Did she offer money?"

"She implied it," Sandra said. "Not overtly. She used words like 'support' and 'recognition.'"

"She was trying to bribe you," I said.

"She was trying to test me," Sandra corrected. "She wanted to see whether I could be loosened. Whether I had cracks."

"Did you give her anything?" My hands wanted to reach for the folder with the emails. To throw it down. To tear it.

"No," she said. "I told her I had loyalty to my boss. I said what you would expect me to say. I said the truth, more or less."

"You said you would report it," I finished for her.

"I said I'd pass on the message to legal," she said. "I asked why she needed to know about schedules. She smiled and then she said something that stuck."

She paused. The pause was a pivot.

"What did she say?" I asked.

"She said, 'I just need to know when he's vulnerable.'"

The words landed like a gavel. My throat worked. "Vulnerable," I repeated.

"Then she reached for the envelope she brought," Sandra said. "She slid it across the table like a magician and told me it was a thank you gift in advance. She said, 'A token for someone who might understand.'"

"What's in it?" I asked.

"Pictures," she said. "Not of us. Of Bella leaving Martinez's. Close shots. Time stamps. And a note with one line: 'Comfort is for those who keep quiet.'"

The room narrowed. I felt the city outside the window like a rumor. "You kept it," I said.

"I kept one copy," Sandra said. "I scanned it. I saved metadata. I called Cal after she left. I didn't hand it to security because I wanted to hear her words. I wanted to see if she slipped."

"She slipped," I said. "She told you when I was vulnerable."

"She used the word deliberately," Sandra said. "Like a promise."

I paced once and stopped. The folder on my desk waited. "What else?"

"She asked about the weekly oversight," Sandra said. "She said she had friends on the board and wondered how long that would last. She said it in a way that made it sound like a favor she could pull or a favor she could sell."

"Of course she did," I said. "Of course."

"She also mentioned Roberto," Sandra added. "She asked if he had been easy to charm. She said she liked men who fed her stories. She called him 'earnest' in a mocking way and then smiled at me like she didn't mean it."

"She was baiting you," I said. "She wanted to unsettle you."

"She wanted me to show my seams," Sandra said. "She wanted to see whether I would run to you or whether I would take the envelope and fold it into my life."

"You ran to me," I said, and meant it like a small thank-you. "You did the right thing by scanning and by calling Cal."

"I did what I had to," she said. "But she knew details. Small ones. She mentioned the florist route you suggested to Bella yesterday. She asked if that was still being used. How would she know that unless someone told her?"

My mouth went dry. The florist route had been a safe little choreography between us. "She was watching us. Or she had help."

"Or someone told her," Sandra said. "And she was testing whether I would be the leak."

"Who else was at reception?" I asked. "Cameras?"

"Yes," Sandra said. "But she knew. She noticed what camera angles would and wouldn't show. She referred to a 'blind spot' near the alley. She knew of a van that could park there and be invisible to our north-facing cameras."

"She named our blind spot." I sat down hard. My hands reached for the warm mug I'd forgotten. Coffee cooled quickly.

"Sandra," I said, and my voice softened. "Did she say anything about Bella specifically? About where she goes?"

"She said you make her curious," she said. "And she said, very quietly, 'If I wanted proof, I would follow the one who cares.'"

"She knows we care," I whispered.

"We care," Sandra repeated. She folded her hands and looked small in the big office. "She underestimated the wrong woman, Alex. She thought flattery and a gift would open a door. She didn't realize some people do not have doors to open. They have walls."

"I need everything," I said. "Copies, metadata, the scanned images, the note. And Sandra... did she try anything else? Flattery? Another envelope?"

"She tried flattery," Sandra said. "And she tried to pat my hand. She was very good at hands. But she did not touch what I would not let her touch."

"Good," I said. It was not enough and it was something.

Sandra hesitated then, like she had decided on the rhythm of truth. "She said one other thing before she left," she said. "She said, 'Thank you for making it easy to find the people who matter.'"

The sentence landed. My heartbeat sounded like someone running in a corridor.

"Who does she mean?" I asked.

Sandra's mouth tightened. "I do not know."

"Find out," I said. "Every contact on her phone. Every credit on that envelope. Trace the handwriting on the note. And Sandra—"

"Yes?"

"Tell no one outside this room," I said. "Not even Roberto. For now."

She nodded. "I won't."

Outside, the city lights blinked like a swarm. In my pocket my phone buzzed with a calendar reminder for a charity luncheon tomorrow where Bella would be present. My thumb hovered.

"One more thing," Sandra said, voice small. "She dropped a card that had another name scribbled on it. I read it wrong at first. I think it said 'Lang.'"

Lang. Board member. The room tightened, as if someone had turned the knob on a trap.

"Get me that card," I said. "Now."

Sandra turned and left with the envelope clutched like evidence. I watched the door close and thought about bait and hooks and honey.

My phone buzzed again. A single message from an unknown number: Some honey attracts flies. Some honey attracts men with knives.