She stared into the fire.
For almost a minute, neither of us moved.
Finally she asked, “Do you remember Pier Nineteen before your shooting?”
The name hit me strangely.
“Yes.”
“Do you remember the structural collapse?”
My stomach tightened.
Fourteen months earlier.
An old cargo structure being dismantled.
A temporary support failed.
Eight injured.
One woman nearly killed.
Dominic had handled the investigation.
I had signed the settlement authorization.
“I remember.”
Tessa looked at me.
“My sister's name is Mara Hall.”
The room went silent.
I knew that name.
Not from the news.
From a report.
Mara Hall.
Thirty-one.
Contract safety technician.
Pelvic fractures.
Crushed kidney.
Nerve damage.
Multiple surgeries.
My throat dried.
“Tessa…”
“She was under that concrete for three hours.”
I stared at her.
“You told me your sister had medical bills.”
“She does.”
“You knew who I was when you took this assignment.”
“Yes.”
The answer was barely audible.
