Chapter 5 - LOCKER SEVENTEENNia Washington's office occupied the second floor of a narrow building in downtown Pittsburgh.
There were no marble floors.
No expensive paintings.
No receptionist wearing a headset.
Just a small waiting room, several filing cabinets, and a framed photograph of Nia standing with her parents at her law school graduation.
I immediately felt more comfortable there than I had in Adrian Vale's enormous office.
Nia was forty-two, with thoughtful brown eyes and a steady voice.
She listened without interrupting while I explained everything.
Then she examined the documents from the coffee tin.
“Your father may have a significant shareholder claim,” she said. “But I want you to understand something before we proceed.”
I nodded.
“This could become expensive, complicated, and emotionally exhausting.”
“I've already had twelve years of expensive and emotionally exhausting.”
She gave a small smile.
“I suspected you might say that.”
She examined the 2016 agreement.
“Do you know whether your father ever received any payment?”
“No.”
“Do you know whether he signed a power of attorney?”
“He doesn't remember granting one.”
“Then we need medical records, bank statements, corporate records, and the original transaction documents.”
She leaned forward.
“Most importantly, we need to determine whether the signatures were obtained through fraud, forged outright, or attached to documents your father never understood.”
I took a breath.
“Will you represent us?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“We'll discuss a fee arrangement your family can manage. I won't promise you'll recover millions. I will promise that I won't tell you what you want to hear simply because you want to hear it.”
I liked her immediately.
She reviewed the suspicious security photograph.
After comparing it with my hospital appointment records, she made several calls.
Then she told me not to contact Luis until she had spoken with him directly.
“Whatever is in that locker could be important,” she said. “But we must obtain it lawfully and preserve its history.”
“What if Malcolm's people destroy it first?”
“Then we document what they're doing, request immediate preservation, and seek court intervention if necessary.”
I hated how slow that sounded.
But Nia reminded me that rushing into a restricted factory wing could give Vanessa exactly the accusation she wanted.
By lunchtime, June Mercer had contacted Nia.
The two attorneys agreed to coordinate document preservation while keeping their clients' interests separate.
June confirmed that Adrian had issued a company-wide hold on deleting records related to Riverside, the 2016 buyout, and the 2013 workplace accident.
She also reported something disturbing.
Malcolm Pierce had called an emergency board meeting.
The agenda included removing Adrian as chief executive officer.
I stared at Nia.
“Can he do that?”
“Malcolm can propose it. Whether the board can remove Adrian depends on its authority and how the directors vote.”
“Why would they remove him?”
“Possibly because he's interfering with the sale. Possibly because the board has concerns we're not yet aware of.”
Nia folded her hands.
“Ella, you need to separate your personal feelings about Adrian from the evidence.”
“I don't trust him.”
“That may be wise. But he could still be an important witness.”
At three that afternoon, Luis called again.
Nia placed the call on speaker with his permission.
“I've got good news and bad news,” he said.
“Tell us the bad news first,” I answered.
“The men from corporate emptied three offices. They took boxes of old inspection reports.”
My stomach dropped.
“And the good news?”
“They didn't find locker seventeen.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“Because the lockers in the old wing were covered by a temporary wall during renovations. Most of the younger employees don't even know they're there.”
Nia leaned toward the phone.
“Mr. Mendoza, are those lockers on company property?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Can you identify anyone who has lawful authority to access that area for an inspection?”
“Maintenance supervisor. Plant manager. Maybe the safety officer.”
“Do not enter it yourself or remove anything. Can you photograph the condition of the area from a place you're authorized to be?”
“Yes.”
“Please do that. We'll contact the company attorney about securing the location.”
Luis agreed.
After the call ended, Nia studied me.
“You're frustrated.”
“That's one word for it.”
“Evidence obtained the wrong way can create problems that distract from what it proves.”
I nodded reluctantly.
That evening, June confirmed that a neutral inspection of the old locker area would take place the following morning.
Nia would attend.
So would a representative from the company.
I asked whether I could come.
“As the person who knows the history of the locker, yes,” Nia replied. “But you won't be the one opening it.”
For the first time in two days, I felt something resembling hope.
The following morning, we entered the old Riverbend building through a side entrance.
The plant stood along the Monongahela River, its brick walls darkened by decades of industrial smoke.
Inside, the air smelled of machine oil and old concrete.
Luis met us near the maintenance office.
He shook Nia's hand and nodded at me.
“Your dad doing okay?”
“He's worried.”
Luis sighed.
“He always worried about everybody else.”
June Mercer arrived with a building supervisor and a photographer assigned to document the inspection.
We walked through a narrow corridor toward the sealed wing.
A maintenance worker removed several panels from the temporary wall.
Behind them stood a row of green metal lockers.
Their paint was chipped.
Some had rusted hinges.
Number seventeen was near the end.
I recognized it immediately from photographs Dad had kept.
June photographed the lock and surrounding area.
The maintenance supervisor opened it using an authorized master key.
Inside were two pairs of old work gloves, a broken flashlight, a faded safety helmet, and a cardboard box wrapped in clear plastic.
My heart began hammering.
The box was photographed before anyone touched it.
June put on gloves and carefully lifted it onto a clean table.
Inside were several folders.
One was marked:
RIVERBEND SAFETY INSPECTIONS — 2013.
Another was labeled:
FOUNDERS' VOTING AGREEMENT — EMPLOYEE PROTECTION PROVISION.
Nia examined the folders.
Then she looked at me.
“Your father kept more than accident reports.”
“What is that second document?”
She began reading.
Her expression changed.
“It's a separate agreement your father and Adrian signed when the company expanded. It appears to create special approval rights over certain transactions affecting the Riverbend plant.”
“What kind of rights?”
“Potentially the right to block a sale that would dismantle the facility without meeting agreed employee protections.”
I looked toward June.
“Does the proposed sale violate it?”
“We'll have to examine the full agreement and determine whether it's still enforceable.”
Luis leaned forward.
“Are you telling me Thomas might be able to stop them from taking the machines?”
“I'm telling you,” Nia said carefully, “that we may have found something extremely important.”
She turned another page.
Then stopped.
At the bottom of the document was a handwritten note.
It was signed by my father.
If this provision is ever challenged, see the original recording of the August 2013 board meeting.
Beneath it were four more words.
Adrian knows what happened.
June read the note twice.
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression turned serious.
“Adrian, slow down.”
A pause.
“What do you mean, they've already voted?”
She listened for several seconds.
Then closed her eyes.
When she spoke again, her voice was tight.
“I'm at Riverbend with the documents. Tell me exactly what the board did.”
She lowered the phone.
“Malcolm called the emergency meeting early.”
“What happened?” I demanded.
June looked at me.
“The board has just voted to remove Adrian Vale as CEO.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
May you like
Then she said the words that changed everything.
“And the new chief executive officer is Vanessa Holt.”
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