Chapter 5 - Andrew Vaughn Shows Up at Her Door
Richard Vale had been part of Andrew's life before Andrew understood what loyalty meant.
He attended Andrew's christening.
He stood beside his father at charity dinners.
When Andrew's mother died, Richard was the man who had taken a seventeen-year-old Andrew outside the funeral home and told him that grief was something powerful men carried privately.
Years later, when Andrew pushed the Vaughn holdings away from old family operations and toward legitimate commerce, Richard had supported him publicly.
He became chairman of Harborline's board.
Mentor.
Advisor.
Godfather.
And now Richard had been found at a private airfield with Logan Pierce.
Andrew didn't speak for several seconds.
Jenna watched him.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Andrew looked at her.
She softened slightly.
“You just don't want it to mean that.”
He hated how precisely she saw him.
Richard was seventy-one.
Silver-haired.
Elegant.
The sort of man who never raised his voice because he had learned decades earlier that quiet men were often more dangerous than loud ones.
Andrew called his security director back.
“Keep Logan there.”
“And Mr. Vale?”
Andrew paused.
Richard wasn't an employee who could simply be detained.
“He's free to leave.”
“Sir?”
“He hasn't been charged with anything.”
“What if—”
“If he leaves, track the car. Nothing more.”
Andrew hung up.
Jenna folded her arms.
“You trust him.”
“I did.”
“Past tense?”
Andrew's eyes hardened.
“I haven't decided.”
“That isn't how evidence works.”
“No, but it is how thirty years of history works.”
She studied him.
“That's how Blake got me fired.”
The sentence landed.
Andrew looked away.
She wasn't trying to hurt him.
That made it worse.
He had trusted documentation because Blake presented it.
Now he was tempted to distrust evidence because it implicated Richard.
Same mistake.
Different direction.
Andrew inhaled slowly.
“You're right.”
Jenna's eyebrows rose.
“Again?”
“Don't enjoy it.”
“I haven't had much entertainment since unemployment.”
His mouth almost curved.
The apartment door opened.
Mason appeared.
“Mom, the pizza guy is here.”
Then he saw Andrew.
“Oh. Mean Boss is still here.”
Jenna covered her face briefly.
“Mason.”
“What? That's what Grandma called him.”
Andrew looked toward the hallway.
“Your grandmother sounds perceptive.”
Mason nodded seriously.
“She is. She also says you're probably handsome because handsome men get away with too much.”
Jenna turned scarlet.
“MASON REED.”
Andrew failed to suppress the smile this time.
The boy grinned.
Then the moment ended when headlights swept across the courtyard.
Andrew's hand moved instinctively inside his jacket.
Jenna noticed.
“What?”
A delivery car pulled in.
Pizza.
Andrew relaxed.
Mason looked between them.
“Are you staying for pizza?”
“No,” Jenna and Andrew said simultaneously.
Mason shrugged.
“More for me.”
He disappeared inside.
Jenna looked at Andrew.
“You should go.”
“I'll have someone bring the laptop.”
“And no armed guards outside my door.”
Andrew said nothing.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Andrew.”
First name.
He noticed.
“So we're on a first-name basis now?”
“Don't make me regret it.”
“One unmarked security car across the street.”
“No.”
“You were being watched.”
“And I have neighbors. I don't want men in suits frightening everyone.”
“They won't wear suits.”
“That is not comforting.”
Andrew rubbed his jaw.
“Jenna.”
She folded her arms.
“One person.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“Fine.”
“No guns where Mason can see them.”
“Fine.”
“No following us into school.”
“Agreed.”
“No treating me like property you're protecting because you suddenly discovered I'm valuable.”
Andrew looked directly at her.
“That isn't why.”
She paused.
“What?”
He almost said something he didn't understand himself.
Instead:
“You have a child.”
Her expression eased.
“Thank you.”
He turned toward the stairs.
“Andrew.”
He stopped.
“If Richard Vale is involved, don't go after him angry.”
He looked back.
“Why?”
“Because whoever built this scheme has survived audits, acquisitions, and your security systems for years.”
She held his gaze.
“They're not afraid of angry men.”
“What are they afraid of?”
Jenna looked down at the folder in her hands.
“People who can prove things.”
Andrew left.
At 8:15 the next morning, Jenna received the clean laptop.
At 8:19, she logged in.
At 8:26, she found the first pattern.
Magnolia Coast was only one shell.
There were five.
Palmetto Storage Partners.
Blue Heron Transit.
Coastal Meridian Services.
Southbridge Recovery.
Magnolia Coast Warehousing.
Each billed Harborline.
None appeared suspicious alone.
Together, they formed a pattern.
Payments increased during emergency conditions.
Storms.
Port closures.
Rail failures.
Times when nobody questioned unusual costs.
Jenna created a table.
Vendor.
Invoice.
Approver.
Shipment reference.
Bank destination.
Her coffee went cold.
By noon, she had traced $18.4 million.
By two, $26.7 million.
At 2:14, Andrew called.
“How bad?”
“Do you want the polite answer?”
“No.”
“You have been robbed blind.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-six million that I can verify.”
Silence.
“And I'm nowhere near finished.”
“Who approved it?”
“That part is strange.”
“How?”
“Different people.”
“Names.”
“Blake. Logan. Two regional directors. One procurement manager.”
“Richard?”
“No.”
Andrew exhaled.
Jenna continued.
“But they all share something.”
“What?”
“They were authorized through special emergency codes.”
“Whose codes?”
A pause.
“Yours.”
Andrew stopped breathing for a second.
“That isn't possible.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You weren't even in the country for three of these.”
He was silent.
She had already checked.
“Someone duplicated your authorization credentials.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your legitimate approvals use biometric confirmation.”
“And the fraudulent ones?”
“Legacy PIN fallback.”
Andrew's expression hardened though she couldn't see it.
Legacy PIN.
Only four people knew that fallback process still existed.
Andrew.
Richard Vale.
The former CFO, now dead.
And Andrew's father.
Also dead.
“Richard,” Andrew whispered.
Jenna said nothing.
At the same moment, Andrew's assistant entered his office carrying a package.
“No return address,” she said.
Andrew frowned.
He opened it.
Inside was an old photograph.
His father.
His uncle Vincent.
Richard Vale.
Standing outside Magnolia Coast Warehousing.
Twenty-five years earlier.
On the back, written in blue ink:
Some companies never really close.
Andrew stared.
Then his phone buzzed.
Jenna.
Another message.
I found something else. Call me. Now.
He did.
“What?”
Her voice was different.
Tight.
“Someone tried accessing my laptop remotely.”
“Did they get in?”
“No. Your security build blocked it.”
“IP?”
“Masked.”
Andrew stood.
“Get Mason and leave the apartment.”
“Where?”
“My house.”
“No.”
“Jenna.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Someone knows you're investigating.”
“I'll go to my mother's.”
“They can find that.”
“And they can't find your mansion?”
“My home has security.”
She hesitated.
Andrew softened his tone.
“This isn't about Harborline now.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No. Harborline doesn't matter more than your son.”
Silence.
Finally:
“One night.”
“As long as necessary.”
“One.”
Andrew didn't argue.
Forty minutes later, Jenna packed an overnight bag.
Mason packed three dinosaurs, two books, six toy cars, and no underwear.
While Jenna corrected the balance, the security officer Andrew assigned waited downstairs.
Nobody noticed the gray sedan two blocks away.
Nobody saw the camera lens.
Nobody saw the text sent at 5:02 p.m.
They're moving her.
The reply came instantly.
May you like
Then tonight.
---
