“Page eleven is the file you tried to shred back in February,” I said.

“Charles swept that bay at four in the morning and found it in the bin with the staples still in it.

You thought he was only emptying your trash, Derek.

He was writing down every number you tried to burn.”

The woman from corporate counsel asked Derek a question about his laptop password, and he didn’t answer her.

At eleven, the board chair read a resolution into the minutes in the tone of a man ordering lunch.

Derek and Megan were to stay in the building until law enforcement arrived.