Chapter 2 - The Missing Donation
Adrian tried the handle once.
Locked.
He did not call out immediately.
Instead he looked around his father's study.
The room had been part office, part museum since Arthur Wexler died four years earlier. Adrian rarely used it, and almost nobody had access.
Somebody had been inside recently.
One drawer was open.
The Seeds of Hope file was gone.
And now somebody had locked him inside.
Adrian pulled out his phone.
No signal.
That was strange.
The estate had private cell repeaters.
He moved toward the window and tried again.
Nothing.
Then he noticed a small black device plugged into the electrical outlet behind a leather chair.
A signal jammer.
Adrian unplugged it.
His phone immediately connected.
He called security.
Within three minutes the door opened.
His security chief, Marcus Hale, stood outside.
“Who locked this?”
Marcus frowned.
“No one, sir.”
“Someone did.”
“We'll check cameras.”
“Start now.”
Adrian showed him the jammer.
Marcus's expression changed.
“That wasn't ours.”
“I know.”
Adrian returned to the cabinet.
“Who has access to this room?”
“You. Mrs. Wexler. Mr. Richard Wexler. Housekeeping management.”
“My cousin?”
“Vanessa's access was removed last year.”
“Why?”
Marcus hesitated.
Adrian looked at him.
“Why?”
“She borrowed your father's private archives without permission.”
“What archives?”
Marcus apparently realized he had already said too much.
“I assumed you knew.”
“I don't.”
The next morning, Adrian arrived at Seeds of Hope at 7:57.
The building was nothing like his estate.
A converted brick grocery store stood between a laundromat and a dental clinic.
A handmade sign hung above the entrance.
Inside, volunteers were already moving boxes.
Children sat at folding tables eating breakfast.
A woman in hospital scrubs slept in a chair while a volunteer watched her toddler.
Adrian immediately understood something.
This was not a charity designed to photograph wealthy donors holding oversized checks.
People actually depended on this place.
Evelyn emerged from a storage room carrying two cartons.
She stopped when she saw him.
“You came.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I've met donors before.”
“So have I.”
“That doesn't answer anything.”
Adrian took one carton from her.
“What is this?”
“Breakfast bars.”
“Where?”
She pointed.
He carried it.
Evelyn watched, suspiciously amused.
“You don't have to prove anything.”
“I'm carrying a box.”
“In a suit that probably costs more than my car.”
“Your car might be undervalued.”
She laughed despite herself.
For twenty minutes Evelyn showed him the center.
There were no marble floors.
No chandeliers.
No champagne.
But every room had purpose.
A clothing closet.
A counseling room.
A small legal aid office.
A children's library.
An emergency pantry.
Adrian asked questions.
How many families?
How much monthly rent support?
Who approved disbursements?
Who audited accounts?
Evelyn finally stopped.
“You didn't come here just to visit.”
“No.”
“The number?”
“Yes.”
She looked toward the children.
“Not here.”
They entered a small office.
Evelyn shut the door.
“What message did you get?”
Adrian's expression sharpened.
“How did you know I got one?”
“Because I got one too.”
She showed him her phone.
STOP TALKING TO ADRIAN WEXLER.
Below it:
REMEMBER BEN.
“Who is Ben?”
Evelyn sat down.
“Benjamin Cole. Accountant. Volunteer.”
“The last man who investigated the missing money?”
Her eyes snapped up.
“How do you know that?”
“Someone told me.”
“Who?”
“Anonymous message.”
Evelyn was silent for several seconds.
“Ben volunteered here for almost two years. Quiet guy. Kind. He helped people file taxes for free.”
“And he found something.”
“He thought our donation reports didn't match our bank records.”
“How much?”
“Eighty-seven thousand four hundred thirty dollars.”
Exactly.
“What happened?”
“Ben requested copies of transfers. Charles told him he was confused.”
“Kessler.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“A week later Ben stopped coming.”
“Did anyone call him?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“No answer.”
“Police?”
“Margaret filed a missing-person report.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“Missing?”
Evelyn nodded.
“He disappeared fourteen months ago.”
That changed everything.
“Why wasn't this mentioned at the gala?”
“Because I thought it was unrelated.”
“Now?”
“Now somebody used his name to threaten me.”
The door opened.
Margaret Bell entered.
She was in her early sixties, silver-haired and tired-looking.
She stopped when she saw Adrian.
“Mr. Wexler.”
“Ms. Bell.”
Margaret looked at Evelyn.
“You told him?”
“He already knew the amount.”
Margaret closed the door.
“This needs to stop.”
Adrian stood.
“Stop?”
“Whatever investigation you're planning.”
“You lost nearly ninety thousand dollars, a volunteer accountant disappeared, and somebody threatened Evelyn last night.”
Margaret's face changed.
“You were threatened?”
Evelyn nodded.
Margaret sat heavily.
“Oh God.”
Adrian watched her.
“You know more.”
Margaret looked at him for a long moment.
Then she opened a locked drawer.
She removed an envelope.
“Ben gave me this the day before he disappeared.”
Inside were photocopies of transfer records.
Three payments from the Wexler Family Foundation.
All marked as paid to Seeds of Hope.
Total:
$87,430.
But Seeds of Hope's account numbers were wrong.
Adrian stared at the routing details.
“That isn't your bank.”
“No,” Margaret said.
“Whose is it?”
“We never found out.”
Adrian photographed the documents.
Then Margaret removed one more page.
A handwritten note.
Evelyn recognized Ben's handwriting.
IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME, THE MONEY DIDN'T DISAPPEAR AT SEEDS OF HOPE. IT DISAPPEARED BEFORE IT ARRIVED.
Below that was a name.
Richard Wexler.
Adrian stared at his uncle's name.
Richard had managed the family foundation for fifteen years.
He had also been the person Vanessa claimed was asking for Adrian during the gala.
“This could be forged,” Adrian said.
Margaret nodded.
“I know.”
“Did Ben say why he suspected Richard?”
“No.”
“Who else has seen this?”
“Only Evelyn and me.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I hadn't seen Richard's name.”
Margaret looked at her.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By hiding it?”
“By keeping you alive.”
The room went silent.
Adrian's phone rang.
Marcus.
He answered.
“Talk.”
“We checked your father's study camera history.”
“And?”
“The camera was disabled for eleven minutes last night.”
“Who entered?”
“We recovered one frame before shutdown.”
Marcus sent the image.
Adrian opened it.
A figure stood outside the study.
Blonde hair.
Champagne-colored dress.
Vanessa.
Adrian looked at Evelyn.
“I need to go.”
Before he reached the door, Margaret spoke.
“Mr. Wexler.”
He turned.
“There is something else about Benjamin Cole.”
“What?”
Margaret's eyes moved to Evelyn.
“He wasn't investigating Seeds of Hope because he volunteered here.”
Evelyn frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
Margaret swallowed.
“He came here because somebody from the Wexler family sent him.”
Adrian stared at her.
“Who?”
Margaret opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, the front windows exploded inward.
Someone outside had thrown a brick through the glass.
A note was tied around it.
Evelyn picked it up.
May you like
Only six words had been written across the page.
BEN COLE ISN'T MISSING. ASK ADRIAN'S MOTHER.
