The Pattern

By the time Naomi laid the spreadsheet across Imogen Rask's desk, she had three things she hadn't had a week earlier: a name, a number, and a witness willing to say both out loud.

"One hundred and forty-two," Imogen said, scrolling. Her editor had put on the reading glasses that lived on a chain around her neck, the ones she only wore for numbers that mattered. "Over six years."

"Every one flagged in a 'cost exposure review' within ninety days of a vesting date. Every one terminated within three weeks of that date."

"Coincidence defense?"

"Not with this." Naomi pulled up a second document — a memo header, Castellan Family Foods letterhead, the phrase Q3 Legacy Pension Exposure — Action Items typed above a list of employee ID numbers. Gerald's 4471 sat fourth from the top. Frances Adeyemi's number sat two lines below it.

Imogen exhaled through her nose, the sound she made instead of swearing in the office. "Second source?"

"Frances Adeyemi. On record. She sued two years ago — lost for lack of pattern. She'll talk now that she knows she wasn't alone."

"And the leak?"

Naomi hesitated. "Anonymous. Solid so far. Knew things only someone inside HR analytics would know."

"Get me a third source before we print a word," Imogen said. "This is the kind of story that gets you sued into the ground if even one line's soft."

Naomi was already reaching for her phone to text the burner number — a quick need to talk, are you safe — when it buzzed in her hand first, before she'd typed a word.

Unknown number. A text, no name attached:

Don't call this number again. It's not mine anymore. Watch your inbox.

Naomi stared at the screen. The tipster had used a phrase almost exactly like the one from their first call — it's already being watched — and now the phone itself was gone, reassigned, wiped clean of whoever had been on the other end three days ago.

"Imogen," she said slowly. "I think they just lost their job too."