Chapter 6 - What Roman Signed
The meeting with Roman took place in a lawyer's office during business hours. Nora chose the location and brought an advocate. Roman arrived without Tommy, bodyguards, or the expensive watch she remembered from their engagement. He looked older. Grief hadn't softened his face so much as stripped it of excuses.
"I need to know what you approved," Nora said when they were seated.
Roman placed a folder between them. "My attorneys are turning over copies through the investigation. I asked them to prepare a summary I could explain to you, but you should verify it with Chen."
"I'll do that. Start talking."
Roman had acquired Pier Nine through a legitimate property company while his criminal organization still controlled other waterfront businesses. The acquisition promised new restaurants, event space, and an improved pier for emergency services. Vale ran the renovation. Roman had made money from it and wanted the project finished before a major fundraising event brought investors through the doors. He'd signed an accelerated occupancy request despite a list of outstanding safety items.
"Did you know the exit was chained?" Nora asked.
"No. I knew there was an unresolved access issue. Vale told me it was a defective latch and said the door would be fixed before people entered."
"And you signed anyway."
"Yes."
Nora looked down at the document. His signature lay beneath a sentence stating that all material safety conditions had been satisfied. The pen strokes were familiar from old birthday cards and notes he'd tucked into her coat pockets. Now she wanted to tear the page in half.
"You weren't tricked into writing your name," she said.
"No. I made a decision I shouldn't have made. I trusted a report I had a financial reason to want to believe."
The room grew still. In the past, Roman had offered solutions like favors, as though a problem could be carried off by the right employee. She'd loved his confidence until the night she learned its limits. Today she wanted accountability more than reassurance.
"Eli called me the day before," she said. "He said they'd chained the door. I asked your office to postpone the event. Your assistant said facilities had cleared it. I thought you knew I'd written."
Roman closed his eyes. "I saw the summary but not your entire email. That was my responsibility to read."
"You could have called me."
"Yes."
"You could have called Eli."
"Yes."
"I begged you after he died to look into the exits. And you told me the report was final because you couldn't bear what finding a different answer would mean for you."
Roman's jaw worked. "Yes."
She had waited three years to hear him say it without a qualification. It didn't make her feel better. It made the loss more real.
"I'm giving a statement about your role," she told him. "If prosecutors ask me to testify, I will."
"You should."
"I don't need permission."
"I know. I'm not giving it."
There was a faint version of the man she'd once loved in that exchange, someone who could learn if he stopped assuming he already knew. It wasn't enough to make her stay. She rose, thanked the advocate, and left Roman with his signed papers.
The investigation intensified. Through counsel, Roman disclosed records concerning criminal protection payments that had helped Vale's businesses suppress complaints from vendors. Those disclosures exposed Roman to separate criminal scrutiny. His lawyer explained that cooperation might affect proceedings but could not erase his conduct. Roman still handed over the records. Nora checked that Chen had received them before allowing herself to believe it.
Meanwhile, Grace and the other volunteers gathered at the community center to make a memorial display. Nora joined them to write brief descriptions of the people who had died. One woman had taught her grandchildren to make dumplings. Another had organized winter coat drives. Eli had insisted that every fundraiser offer food anyone could afford. The work was slow, full of laughter that could turn to tears without warning. It felt more honest than another photograph of Roman outside a courthouse.
Cora brought sandwiches after her shift. "Arthur's telling customers he fired you for negligence. I kept the incident report and the termination notice. The clinic wants copies."
"Thanks."
"Also, I quit."
Nora looked up. "You don't have to do that for me."
"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because I watched him make everybody afraid for their jobs. I got an interview at a hotel restaurant with an actual human-resources department. You're allowed to be happy for me."
Nora hugged her. Cora laughed and nearly dropped the sandwiches. They ate sitting on the floor beneath a half-finished memorial banner, trading stories about bad customers while Grace's niece painted blue flowers around Eli's name.
Near midnight, Chen called. Investigators had located Edwin Pike's former assistant. She had provided messages suggesting Vale ordered the rear door secured to keep protesters from using it during a property inspection. She also identified a storage location for a contractor's camera that had recorded routine work near the exit. The recording was damaged, Chen cautioned, and might show nothing useful. Forensic technicians would evaluate it.
"Does this mean you can arrest him?" Nora asked.
"It means we have stronger evidence. I'll update you when I can say more."
Nora thanked her and hung up. She didn't need an invented certainty. She needed the truth to withstand scrutiny.
At six the next morning, a car stopped outside Cora's sister's house. Nora looked through the window and recognized Tommy's face. He remained in the driver's seat, hands gripping the wheel. Her phone buzzed with a message from him.
May you like
I haven't come to take you anywhere. Grace asked me to tell you in person: the footage is real. It shows Vale carrying the chain. And it shows me watching him.
She didn't open the door. She replied that she would speak with him at Chen's office and asked him to leave the street. He obeyed. Watching his car disappear, Nora realized her boundaries were not a punishment. They were a way to make sure the next conversation happened on terms she could survive. She wrote down the time, saved the message, and made herself breakfast before calling the detective. For the first time in years, even her fear had a place to go besides silence.
