Chapter 2 - Eleven Missing Minutes
Marcus locked the manager’s office himself.
Richard watched from behind the desk while Vanessa sat near the wall, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
The boutique remained open outside, but Marcus had instructed the assistant manager to stop new customers from entering while current customers completed their purchases. No announcement was made. No scene was created.
Marcus wanted facts before consequences.
“Explain the cameras,” he said.
Richard removed his glasses.
“Our system was changed four months ago.”
“Changed how?”
“Remote administration.”
“By whom?”
“Corporate operations.”
Marcus stared at him.
Corporate operations reported to Adrian Vale, Reed Crown’s chief operating officer.
Marcus had hired Adrian eight years earlier.
Adrian was polished, measured and obsessive about numbers. Marcus had occasionally disliked his methods but respected his results.
That respect suddenly felt expensive.
Richard opened the security software.
Twelve camera feeds appeared.
Marcus found the camera overlooking the diamond counter.
“Play this morning.”
Richard selected the recording.
Marcus watched himself enter.
He watched Vanessa notice him.
He watched every gesture.
The audio captured her words clearly.
At 10:17, the footage stopped.
At 10:28, it resumed.
Marcus looked at the timestamp.
“Eleven minutes.”
Richard nodded.
“Those gaps happen.”
“How often?”
Richard hesitated.
“Sometimes after incidents.”
Vanessa looked up.
Marcus turned toward her.
“What incidents?”
She looked at Richard before answering.
“Complaints.”
Richard said, “Vanessa—”
“No.”
Her voice shook.
“You were ready to let him think this was just me.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
Marcus sat opposite her.
“Talk.”
Vanessa drew a breath.
“When a customer complains, we document it in the service log. But sometimes regional operations calls afterward.”
“Who?”
“Usually Celeste Grant.”
Marcus knew the name.
Celeste supervised four stores.
“What does she say?”
Vanessa rubbed her palms together.
“She asks whether the customer was a qualified buyer.”
Marcus disliked the phrase immediately.
“What is a qualified buyer?”
Vanessa looked embarrassed.
“There isn’t an official definition.”
“Then give me the unofficial one.”
Silence.
Richard looked toward the closed door.
Vanessa finally answered.
“Someone who looks likely to make a premium purchase.”
Marcus leaned back.
“Based on what?”
“Clothes. Jewelry. Appointment history. Vehicle sometimes.”
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“And race?”
Vanessa looked directly at him.
“No one puts that in writing.”
It was not an answer.
Marcus understood that she knew it.
Richard spoke.
“Marcus, I need to be clear. Nobody ordered employees to discriminate.”
Marcus turned toward him.
“You called me Marcus.”
Richard froze.
For twelve years Richard had always called him Mr. Reed inside company properties.
Fear had loosened his discipline.
Marcus continued.
“Did you teach employees to judge whether customers deserved service before speaking to them?”
Richard’s voice became defensive.
“We were under enormous pressure.”
“From whom?”
“Regional.”
“Names.”
Richard hesitated.
Vanessa supplied one.
“Celeste.”
Marcus waited.
Richard looked defeated.
“And Adrian’s office.”
The room went quiet.
Marcus reached for Richard’s computer.
“Show me the training material.”
“There isn’t any.”
Marcus looked at him.
Richard corrected himself.
“Nothing official.”
Vanessa laughed once, without humor.
“Show him the gray folder.”
Richard stared at her.
Marcus noticed the look.
“What gray folder?”
Vanessa pointed toward a locked cabinet.
Richard stood.
“That’s internal.”
Marcus almost smiled.
“Richard.”
The manager stopped.
“I own the internal.”
Richard unlocked the cabinet.
Inside were binders containing inventory sheets, client appointment records and monthly sales reports.
At the bottom sat a gray folder.
Marcus opened it.
The first page displayed the heading:
PREMIUM FLOOR EFFICIENCY — INTERNAL MANAGEMENT GUIDANCE.
The Reed Crown logo was absent.
The document contained phrases that sounded harmless until Marcus read them carefully.
Prioritize high-intent guests.
Reduce extended interactions with low-conversion traffic.
Protect showcase access during peak hours.
Identify premium signals before product presentation.
Marcus turned the page.
A checklist appeared.
Designer accessories.
Luxury vehicle arrival.
Existing purchase history.
Professional appearance.
Referral.
Marcus looked up.
“Who wrote this?”
Richard said nothing.
Marcus turned another page.
At the bottom was an email printout.
FROM: ADRIAN VALE.
The message was brief.
“Use judgment. Do not distribute electronically. We cannot keep missing numbers because associates confuse courtesy with selling.”
Marcus read it twice.
Vanessa whispered, “That’s what I meant.”
Marcus faced her.
“It doesn’t excuse what you did.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Her eyes filled, but Marcus did not rescue her from the question.
She finally nodded.
“Yes.”
He returned to the folder.
Richard sat down heavily.
“We were told stores missing conversion targets would lose bonuses.”
“Whose bonuses?”
“Everyone’s.”
Marcus looked at the security system again.
“And the missing footage?”
Richard shook his head.
“I don’t delete recordings.”
“But somebody does.”
“Yes.”
“Can headquarters access this system?”
Richard nodded.
“So can regional operations.”
Marcus called Reed Holdings’ chief information security officer.
“Alan, preserve every security server connected to Reed Crown. All twelve stores. Effective immediately.”
Richard looked alarmed.
Marcus continued.
“No routine deletion. No administrative changes. Mirror everything.”
Alan asked something.
Marcus answered, “Because I think records have been altered.”
Vanessa suddenly stood.
“There’s something else.”
Marcus looked at her.
She opened her handbag and removed her phone.
“If you’re preserving records, you need this.”
She unlocked a group message thread.
Thirty-seven Reed Crown employees were members.
The group name was FLOOR PERFORMANCE.
Marcus scrolled.
Most messages were ordinary.
Shift changes.
Sales numbers.
Inventory reminders.
Then he found one from Celeste.
WATCH YOUR DOOR TRAFFIC TODAY. CORPORATE IS REVIEWING CONVERSION.
Another:
DON’T LET BROWSERS DESTROY YOUR NUMBERS.
Marcus kept scrolling.
Then he reached a message posted three months earlier.
It contained a photograph taken through a boutique window.
A Black family stood outside.
Beneath the photograph, someone had written:
FOUR PEOPLE. PROBABLY ZERO SALES. CONTROL ENTRY.
Marcus stopped breathing for a second.
“Who wrote this?”
Vanessa leaned closer.
Her voice became almost inaudible.
“Richard.”
Marcus raised his eyes.
Richard did not deny it.
But before Marcus could speak, his phone rang.
Alan from cybersecurity.
“I found the deletion source.”
Marcus activated speakerphone.
“Tell me.”
“The eleven minutes from this morning were deleted remotely at 10:31.”
Richard looked at the clock.
That was fourteen minutes earlier.
Marcus asked, “From where?”
Alan paused.
“Corporate headquarters.”
Marcus glanced at the email bearing Adrian Vale’s name.
“Which account?”
“It belongs to the chief financial officer.”
Marcus stopped.
That was not Adrian.
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Reed Holdings’ chief financial officer was Marcus’s younger brother.
Leonard Reed.
