Chapter 5 - The Number That Wouldn’t Balance
Nathan wanted security outside Hannah's house.
Hannah refused.
Nathan wanted a private investigator stationed nearby.
Hannah refused that too.
When he suggested moving Hannah and Evelyn temporarily into a hotel, Hannah finally crossed her arms.
“You realize normal employers don't relocate junior accounting assistants, right?”
“Normal junior accounting assistants don't receive threats connected to multimillion-dollar fraud investigations.”
“I'm not putting my mother in some hotel because a coward printed my address.”
Nathan stared at her.
“You are remarkably difficult to protect.”
“Maybe stop trying to protect me without asking.”
That silenced him.
Daniel Cho, seated nearby, suddenly became very interested in his coffee.
Nathan lowered his voice.
“What do you suggest?”
Hannah appreciated the question.
“Police report. Cameras at the house. Security checks the parking garage. I change my route to work.”
“And if someone approaches you?”
“I call the police.”
Nathan's jaw tightened.
“Hannah.”
“You asked.”
“I was hoping your answer would include something that didn't make me age ten years.”
“That's not my department.”
Daniel covered a smile.
They compromised.
A security company installed cameras at the Prescott home.
Local police received the threat.
Hannah's address was removed from internal directories.
Nathan did not assign someone to follow her.
At least, he claimed he didn't.
Hannah suspected the gray sedan she saw twice that week belonged to corporate security.
She chose not to ask.
The forensic audit accelerated.
A breakthrough came from something embarrassingly small.
Twenty-three cents.
Hannah found it at 6:12 Tuesday evening.
One fraudulent vendor transfer contained a reconciliation adjustment of twenty-three cents.
“That isn't random,” she said.
Daniel rolled his chair over.
“What?”
“This.”
He squinted.
“Twenty-three cents?”
“Exactly.”
“Hannah, we're looking at three million dollars.”
“I know.”
“And you're excited about twenty-three cents.”
“Yes.”
He waited.
She opened another file.
Then another.
Three fraudulent transfers contained tiny adjustments.
$0.23.
$0.41.
$0.17.
“Bank-test transactions,” Hannah said.
Daniel's expression changed.
“When someone opens a new receiving account…”
“They send micro-deposits.”
“And if those adjustments hit our internal ledger…”
“We may be able to identify when the receiving accounts were first validated.”
They pulled system logs.
Two hours later, they had a date.
April 14.
8:42 p.m.
The bank-account change for Calder had been entered from an administrative workstation.
Location:
Executive finance suite.
Credential:
Paige Winslow.
Hannah felt no satisfaction.
Only dread.
“Could someone have used her login?” she asked.
“Possible,” Daniel said.
“Where was Paige that night?”
Security records showed Paige's badge entering the building at 8:16.
Leaving at 9:03.
Nathan came downstairs when they called.
He read the logs.
“So Paige was here.”
“Yes.”
“Martin?”
Daniel checked.
“No badge activity.”
Nathan looked at Hannah.
“She did it.”
“Maybe.”
“You're defending her?”
“No.”
Hannah thought about Paige's face.
Fear.
Not guilt exactly.
“Something doesn't make sense.”
“What?”
“If Paige is sophisticated enough to hide millions in duplicate invoices, why leave her badge and login tied to the bank change?”
Nathan considered it.
Daniel nodded slowly.
“Good point.”
“Maybe she was careless,” Nathan said.
“Maybe.”
Hannah wasn't convinced.
The next day Paige requested a meeting.
Not with Nathan.
With Hannah.
Daniel advised against it.
Nathan strongly advised against it.
Hannah accepted.
They met in a glass conference room with the door open and Daniel sitting twenty feet away.
Paige entered carrying nothing.
She looked exhausted.
For once, her hair wasn't perfect.
“You've been busy,” she said.
“So have you.”
“I know what you're investigating.”
Hannah didn't answer.
Paige leaned closer.
“You think I'm stupid?”
“No.”
“Then why would I leave my credentials everywhere?”
Exactly Hannah's question.
“Tell me.”
Paige laughed bitterly.
“You don't know who you're dealing with.”
“Martin?”
Paige flinched.
There.
Hannah saw it.
“Is Martin controlling those accounts?”
“Stop.”
“Did he make you approve them?”
“I said stop.”
Hannah's voice softened.
“You're scared of him.”
Paige stood.
“This meeting was a mistake.”
“Paige.”
She reached the door.
“Ethan Cole.”
Paige froze.
Hannah had taken a risk.
It worked.
“You remember him.”
Paige slowly turned.
“I remember everyone who worked for me.”
“He tried to report the same thing.”
Paige's face had gone white.
“Who told you that?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Paige whispered, “Because Ethan wasn't fired for accessing payroll.”
Hannah's pulse jumped.
“What was he fired for?”
“He found something.”
“What?”
Paige glanced toward Daniel.
Then back at Hannah.
“Ask him.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
Paige's eyes shifted toward the ceiling.
Toward the executive floors.
“Ask Nathan what happened to his uncle.”
Hannah frowned.
“What uncle?”
Paige left.
That evening, Hannah searched public company records.
Nathan's grandfather had two sons.
Richard Hawthorne.
And Jonathan Hawthorne.
Jonathan served as chief financial officer eighteen years earlier.
Then disappeared from the corporate history.
No retirement announcement.
No memorial page.
No recent professional history.
Hannah searched news archives.
At 11:03 p.m., she found an article.
HAWTHORNE EXECUTIVE DIES IN APPARENT SINGLE-VEHICLE ACCIDENT.
Jonathan Hawthorne, forty-one.
Nathan's uncle.
The article said he lost control of his car after leaving company headquarters late at night.
Hannah read the date.
March 17.
Eighteen years earlier.
She searched more.
One article included a sentence that made her sit upright.
According to people familiar with the company, Jonathan Hawthorne had recently initiated a private review of several vendor accounts.
Hannah's phone rang.
Nathan.
She stared at the screen before answering.
“Hello?”
“Are you still at the office?”
“No. Home.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“The forensic team identified the owner of one receiving company.”
Hannah grabbed a pen.
“Who?”
“It's a shell corporation.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“No.”
Nathan's breathing was tight.
“The registered agent is the same attorney who handled my uncle Jonathan's estate.”
Hannah looked at the article on her laptop.
“Nathan…”
“You know.”
“Paige told me to look him up.”
Silence.
“You spoke to Paige?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Very little.”
Hannah stared at Jonathan's photograph.
He looked like Nathan.
Not exactly.
But enough.
“She said Ethan found something.”
Nathan was silent.
Then Hannah heard him say something that made the room feel colder.
“Jonathan didn't die because he lost control of his car.”
Hannah's grip tightened on the phone.
“How do you know?”
“Because three days before he died, he gave my mother a sealed envelope.”
“What was inside?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is it?”
Another pause.
“My mother hid it.”
“And?”
Nathan's voice dropped.
May you like
“We're going to find it.”
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