Chương 4
She shook my hand.
“Forensic accounting.”
“You work fast.”
“I work expensive.”
Samuel sighed.
“She’s proud of that joke.”
“It keeps expectations healthy.”
We sat around the small dining table.
Denise opened her laptop.
“I need to ask some unpleasant questions.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did you authorize Gavin to sign contracts alone?”
“Depending on the amount.”
“What amount?”
“Anything under twenty-five thousand.”
“Did that include related-party transactions?”
“No.”
“Did he have authority to create vendors?”
“Yes.”
“Without review?”
I hesitated.
“In practice, sometimes.”
Denise looked at me over the top of her glasses.
“That means yes.”
“Yes.”
“Did you review monthly statements?”
“Usually.”
“Usually is not a control.”
“I know that now.”
“I’m not criticizing you.”
“It sounds like criticism.”
“It is criticism.”
Samuel shifted in his chair.
“Denise.”
She ignored him.
“If you want me useful, I can’t pretend your controls were better than they were.”
Heat climbed my neck.
“I was pregnant.”
“You were also controlling owner.”
“I know.”
“And he was your husband.”
My jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“That matters because trust changes behavior.”
Her voice softened slightly.
“It does not change arithmetic.”
I hated her for about thirty seconds.
Then I nodded.
“Okay.”
She turned the laptop toward me.
A spreadsheet filled the screen.
Colored rows tracked vendor payments, reimbursements, transfers, and card charges.
“Northline received one hundred eighty-seven thousand over eleven months.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“Stonebridge received ninety-four thousand.”
I stared at the numbers.
“From us?”
“Mostly indirectly.”
“How?”
“Northline billed your company for materials.”
“We buy materials constantly.”
“Exactly.”
Denise tapped one row.
“Then some Northline funds moved to Stonebridge.”
Another row.
“Some moved to a personal account.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Gavin’s?”
“I don’t guess.”
Her finger moved again.
“This hotel.”
I recognized the name from the ledger.
“Paisley’s?”
“The reservation was under her name.”
“For the vacation?”
“No.”
The room became very still.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
I looked at Samuel.
He gave me nothing.
Denise continued.
“Two nights.”
“Why was she in Chicago?”
“You would know better than I would.”
“I didn’t know she was.”
“That’s why I’m asking.”
I reached for my water and nearly knocked it over.
Samuel caught the glass.
Denise closed the laptop halfway.
“We can stop.”
“No.”
“You’re pale.”
“I’m eight months pregnant.”
“You were also eight months pregnant ten minutes ago.”
“Keep going.”
She watched me for a moment.
Then she reopened the screen.
“There were two rooms.”
I could hear the refrigerator again.
“Who had the second?”
“We don’t know.”
“Gavin?”
“I said we don’t know.”
“Was he in Chicago?”
Samuel spoke this time.
“Madeline.”
I turned on him.
“What?”
“Don’t jump ahead of evidence.”
“If my husband used company money to take his sister to Chicago, I’m allowed to wonder why.”
“Yes.”
Denise leaned back.
“He also had fuel charges in Tennessee the same dates.”
Relief came so quickly it embarrassed me.
Then I noticed Samuel watching my face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing that lawyer thing.”
“I’m sitting.”
“You sit judgmentally.”
Denise almost smiled.
“It’s a gift.”
I looked back at the spreadsheet.
“What else?”
“There are payments to someone named Lauren Pike.”
My chest tightened for no logical reason.
“Who is that?”
“Consulting invoices.”
“What kind of consulting?”
“Business development.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“Elena hasn’t either.”
“How much?”
“Forty-two thousand over six months.”
“What address?”
“An apartment in Nashville.”
I swallowed.
“Did you look her up?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She’s a licensed interior designer.”
“That’s not business development.”
“No.”
“Does she work with construction companies?”
“Possibly.”
“Do we have any projects in Nashville?”
“No.”
My fingers went cold.
Samuel leaned forward.
“Madeline.”
I knew what he was about to say.
“Don’t speculate.”
“Yes.”
“I hate both of you.”
“That’s acceptable.”
Denise clicked into another tab.
“One more thing.”
I almost laughed.
“There’s always one more thing.”
“That’s generally how fraud works.”
She showed me a wire transfer.
Forty thousand dollars.
Sent three weeks earlier from our company reserve account to Stonebridge.
“Who approved that?”
“You did.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“The approval came from your credentials.”
“I didn’t approve it.”
“Then we have a different problem.”
Samuel’s posture changed.
“Credential compromise?”
“Possibly.”
“I use two-factor authentication.”
Denise nodded.
“Where does the code go?”
“My phone.”
“Who has access to your phone?”
I answered too quickly.
“No one.”
Samuel looked at me.
My mouth went dry.
Then I remembered the night in June when I had fallen asleep on the couch after a prenatal appointment.
Gavin had picked up my phone because it kept buzzing.
He had held it toward my face to unlock it.
I had laughed and pushed his wrist away.
“What are you doing?”
“Turning off the alarm.”
I had been too tired to care.
The memory came back with humiliating clarity.
The blue light against his cheek.
His thumb moving across the screen.
My own voice telling him the passcode because Face ID had failed.
I looked at Denise.
“My husband knew my phone code.”
She did not react dramatically.
That made it worse.
“Change it.”
“Now.”
I did.
Then I changed my email password.
Then banking credentials.
Then the cloud account connected to our household devices.
Samuel watched without speaking.
When I finished, Denise said, “If he used your credentials, we need evidence beyond the transaction log.”
“Can we get it?”
“Maybe.”
“From what?”
“IP records, device records, login history, bank metadata.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
I hated that word.
“What if there’s no proof?”
“Then it becomes disputed.”
“So he can say I approved it.”
“Yes.”
“And people might believe him.”
“Yes.”
I stood because sitting had become unbearable.
The baby shifted low against my pelvis.
“I need air.”
Samuel started to rise.
“I’m going downstairs.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m going to the courtyard.”
Denise looked at him.
“She’s pregnant, not escaped livestock.”
“Thank you,” I said.
May you like
Outside, the air was humid and smelled like hot concrete.
A little boy rode a scooter around the courtyard while his father sat on a bench pretending not to watch him.
