Novels by Dessy Ana

The reference number was still on my desk when I returned to the office. I had written it on a sheet of paper beside the date and the name of the company. My investigator had received photographs of both pages, along with a request to check the number against the old Wesley Corp records. I opened the folder again. The summaries were arranged in chronological order. I had spent days putting them together, comparing the companies, their proposed partnerships, and what happened after information was shared. Four companies had now appeared in my investigation. Renfield Tool & Stamping, Aldercroft Precision, Whitlow & Sons Components, and Castellan Diecasting. Their circumstances were different, but the pattern in their records was becoming difficult to ignore. What bothered me was how much I still didn't know. I had dates, brief accounts of meetings, and records of what happened to the businesses afterward. But I didn't have the complete history of how the decisions had been made.

The parents returned shortly after noon. The mother still had her handbag over one shoulder, and her husband carried the small bag he had brought to our earlier meeting. They looked tired. I wondered how much of the time between our conversations they had spent discussing the decision they were about to make. I stood as they entered. “Have you had a chance to talk it through?” I asked. The mother nodded and sat down. Her husband took the seat beside her. “We've decided we'd like to explore moving our child's care to another centre,” he said. “We think another opinion might help us feel more settled.” I took my seat opposite them. “Have you spoken to another centre?” “We've made an enquiry,” he replied. “But nothing has been arranged yet.” “All right. We can help you understand the steps and prepare the records you'll need if you decide to go ahead.” The mother looked at me for a moment. “Are you not going to ask us to reconsider?” “I would like you to feel comfortable keep

CHARLES POVI sat in my car and took out the document; the reference number was clear. I photographed both pages and sent them to my investigator with a message asking to check whether the number appeared in any of the old Wesley Corp records that had already been collected.I also asked her to find out whether the records office still existed and whether there was a way to trace requests for the original collection.I didn't want her contacting anyone yet. First, I needed to understand what we were dealing with.My phone vibrated; it was Adrian.Don't tell Tina what we discussed at the meeting. I read the message again.I was already uncomfortable with how much he had withheld from me; this made it worse.I typed a reply. Why?There was no immediate response. After waiting a moment, I called him.He answered after the second ring. "What exactly are you asking me to keep from her?" I asked."Just give me a little time," he said."For what?""To establish something first."I tightened m

Charles POVThe contact had not answered my last question.He sat across from me with one hand resting on the folder, watching as I examined the document again. Adrian was beside me, unusually quiet.I had agreed to attend the meeting because Adrian had insisted that the person wanted to speak to me specifically. He had also made it clear that Charles's presence was a condition, not a suggestion.I was beginning to understand why he had been reluctant to explain.The document contained a name I recognised from my earlier investigation into Wesley Corp. I had encountered it while reviewing old business records and speaking to people whose contracts had ended under circumstances they still struggled to explain.But seeing the name here raised a different question."Where did you get this?" I asked.The man looked at the document."My name is Martin Hale," he said. "I think we should at least get that out of the way."I looked up."You asked us to come here without introducing yourself pr

Charles POVThe message came in just after ten.I was going through the notes from my investigator when my phone vibrated beside the folder.It was Adrian.The location is confirmed. Four o'clock. I'll send you the address shortly. He still insists you must be there.I read the last sentence again.He still insists you must be there.I put the phone down and returned to the page in front of me. I had been looking at the same paragraph for several minutes without taking in a word.Someone had agreed to meet Adrian, but only on the condition that I attended.Why?I had no reason to believe the meeting was about me. Adrian had been trying to get information from this contact, and perhaps my presence was connected to something in the records I had been investigating. But that was only a possibility. I had no evidence to support it.I picked up my phone and called him.He answered after the third ring."You got the message?" Adrian asked."Yes.""Good.""That's all you have to say?"There

The little boy had been sitting in the same chair for nearly twenty minutes.I noticed him when I came through reception. His mother sat beside him, reading something on her phone; every few seconds, she looked towards the treatment corridor, then back at the screen.A nurse stood near the desk, speaking quietly to her.“Is something wrong?” I asked.The nurse turned. “Mrs. Bennett wants to speak to someone before her son goes in. She has questions about the reports in the news.”“Have you explained what we know?” I asked“I tried, but she wants to speak to you.”Mrs. Bennett looked up when she heard my voice; she locked her phone and slipped it into her bag.“Dr. Tina,” she called“Good morning. Is everything all right?” I askedShe glanced at her son. “I don't know,” she saidThe boy was drawing on the back of an old appointment card; he had coloured one corner so heavily that the paper was beginning to tear. I pulled a chair closer.“Would you like us to speak somewhere quieter?”