Chapter 3 - Garrett's Missing Forty-Seven Minutes
I didn't confront Melissa.
That may have saved me.
I walked back into the office as if Kyle had told me nothing.
Melissa was already there.
She stood beside Garrett's door, talking quietly to him.
When she saw me, she smiled.
"Everything all right?"
"Wrong number."
I smiled back.
For the first time, I understood how exhausting lying was.
Maybe that was why Garrett was always irritable.
I texted Dominic.
Need somewhere safe to open a drive.
His response came immediately.
My office. Twenty minutes.
Vance Maritime occupied three floors in a building six blocks away.
Dominic's office wasn't what I'd expected.
No theatrical luxury.
No giant portrait.
No ridiculous throne behind a desk.
Steel.
Glass.
Dark wood.
Shipping maps.
A photograph of an older woman beside a harbor.
He noticed me looking.
"My mother."
"She work in shipping?"
"She cleaned offices."
That surprised me.
He plugged Kyle's drive into an isolated laptop.
"Not connected to our network."
"You do this often?"
"More often than I'd like."
The drive contained folders.
Invoices.
Access logs.
Screenshots.
Then a video.
Kyle had apparently recorded his screen while accessing Vanguard's internal audit archive.
The first spreadsheet contained Apex.
The second contained eleven more companies.
Shell vendors.
Consulting firms.
Equipment leasing.
Insurance adjustment services.
Millions moving out of Vanguard.
Some landed in entities connected to Garrett.
Others didn't.
Those went somewhere called Marlowe Strategic Trust.
Dominic became very still.
"You know it?"
"No."
But his tone said otherwise.
I looked at him.
"Dominic."
He exhaled.
"Vance Maritime acquired a minority position in Vanguard eighteen months ago."
"I know."
"Our due diligence found irregularities. Small ones. Nothing like this."
"So you suspected theft."
"I suspected leakage."
"That's a polite word for it."
"Business likes polite words for ugly things."
I understood that better than he knew.
We kept reading.
Then I found an access report.
My credentials.
Thirty-one uses after hours.
Not two.
Thirty-one.
My skin prickled.
"They've been using me for more than a year."
Dominic looked at the amounts.
"Over nine million dollars."
I couldn't speak.
Nine million dollars had passed beneath my identity.
If somebody investigated before we exposed this, what would they see?
Naomi Hayes.
Accounting specialist.
Financial problems.
Medical debt.
Single mother.
Perfect scapegoat.
"They picked me."
Dominic didn't offer false comfort.
"Yes."
"Because I needed the job."
"Probably."
"And Garrett spent two years making sure everybody thought I was incompetent."
Dominic looked at me.
"That may have been part of it."
The realization hurt more than Garrett's insults ever had.
He hadn't merely disliked me.
He had constructed me.
Low-level.
Undisciplined.
Replaceable.
Someone nobody would believe.
My phone rang.
Rachel.
I answered instantly.
"Lily?"
"She's fine. Stop doing that."
"Sorry."
"She wants to know whether she can have pancakes for dinner."
"Absolutely."
"You're a terrible mother."
"Apparently."
Rachel laughed.
For thirty seconds, I got to be normal.
Then Dominic pointed at the screen.
One folder remained.
SECURITY.
Inside were building camera logs.
March 18.
Garrett had entered my work area at 9:39.
Exited 9:51.
But another record caught my eye.
Executive archive.
11:03 p.m.
Accessed by Melissa Grant.
Then the camera went offline.
Forty-seven minutes.
Back online at 11:50.
"That's our missing footage," I said.
Dominic nodded.
"But why would HR be involved?"
I thought about Melissa.
Every complaint went through her.
Every disciplinary file.
Every termination.
Every background check.
Every employee's emergency contact information.
Including Lily's school.
My stomach turned.
"She could've sent the photograph."
Dominic's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face hardened.
"When?"
Pause.
"Don't touch anything."
He hung up.
"What?"
"The stairwell footage."
My heart kicked.
"What about it?"
"Someone tried to delete it."
"Tried?"
"Our backup copied it first."
I stood.
"Can we watch?"
He hesitated.
That frightened me more than if he'd answered immediately.
"What?"
"The camera does have audio."
We watched.
There I was.
Sitting on the stair.
Sandwich in my hands.
Garrett descending.
Dominic behind him.
Then Garrett's voice.
"The transfers are contained. The board has no visibility."
Clear as day.
Dominic asked, "Where are the original authorizations?"
Garrett answered:
"Melissa has everything."
I stopped breathing.
In the actual moment, I'd been beneath the landing and hadn't heard that sentence clearly.
The camera had.
Dominic rewound it.
Melissa has everything.
There was more.
Garrett:
"Once Hayes is gone, the audit trail closes with her."
My chair scraped backward.
Once Hayes is gone.
I stared at the screen.
"What does that mean?"
Dominic didn't pretend to know.
"It could mean fired."
"Could?"
"Naomi—"
"Could it mean something else?"
"I don't know."
For the first time, I saw something in his expression beyond control.
Concern.
Not business concern.
Human concern.
He called someone.
"Move the board meeting forward."
Pause.
"Tomorrow."
Another pause.
"No. Don't tell Pendleton."
He ended the call.
"What are you doing?"
"Giving Garrett what he thinks he wants."
"Which is?"
"A chance to explain himself."
That afternoon, we returned to Vanguard.
My desk had been cleared.
Not cleaned.
Cleared.
My personal mug.
Lily's drawing.
Notebook.
Everything was inside a cardboard box.
Garrett waited.
"Effective immediately, you're suspended."
"Reason?"
"Data security violations."
I almost admired the nerve.
"You forged my approvals."
His face didn't move.
"That's a serious accusation."
"So is nine million dollars."
That moved it.
Barely.
But enough.
Melissa appeared behind him.
Her eyes went directly to Dominic.
Then to me.
Then to the bag containing Kyle's drive.
She knew.
"Naomi," Melissa said, "I'd strongly recommend you leave quietly."
I looked at her.
"Kyle called me."
For the first time, Melissa lost control.
Only for a second.
"Did he?"
"He had interesting things to say."
Garrett interrupted.
"Security."
Two guards approached.
Dominic stepped aside.
He didn't stop them.
I understood why.
Let them suspend me.
Let them create paperwork.
Every move became evidence.
I picked up my box.
Inside the elevator, Dominic said, "Don't go home tonight."
"I'm not leaving Lily."
"Bring her somewhere else."
"Why?"
He held up his phone.
A message had arrived from his security team.
One photograph.
My apartment door.
Open.
The lock broken.
I called Rachel.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
My pulse exploded.
I called Lily's tablet.
Nothing.
"Drive."
Dominic was already moving.
Twenty-two minutes later, we reached Rachel's building.
I ran upstairs.
Her door was closed.
I pounded.
"Rachel!"
Nothing.
"Rachel!"
Dominic reached past me.
The door wasn't locked.
It opened.
The apartment was dark.
"Lily?"
No answer.
My entire body went cold.
Then a small voice came from the hallway.
"Mom?"
Lily appeared in dinosaur pajamas.
I nearly collapsed.
Rachel followed, confused.
"My phone died. What's happening?"
I hugged them both.
Dominic checked the rooms.
Everything was fine.
The broken door had been mine.
Someone had wanted me to know they could enter.
Rachel agreed to take Lily to our cousin's place in Connecticut for a few days.
I hated it.
But I hated the photograph more.
Before Lily left, she wrapped her arms around me.
"Are you in trouble?"
"No."
"Promise?"
I looked at her.
"I found somebody else who's in trouble."
She considered that.
"Are you going to help them?"
"I think so."
"Okay."
She kissed my cheek.
"Then don't be scared."
Children say impossible things as if they're instructions.
After they left, I returned to my apartment with Dominic.
Nothing valuable was missing.
Whoever entered had searched my desk.
My files.
My closet.
Then I noticed something on Lily's bedroom floor.
A photograph.
Not ours.
A printed security still.
It showed Garrett entering my cubicle on March 18.
On the back, someone had written:
47 MINUTES.
Dominic stared at it.
"Whoever broke in wasn't threatening you."
"What?"
"They left evidence."
I turned the photograph over again.
At the bottom was another handwritten line I hadn't noticed.
ASK MELISSA WHAT HAPPENED AT 11:03.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman whispered:
"Naomi, don't trust the board."
"Who is this?"
"You want to know where the money went?"
"Yes."
"Then come to the office tomorrow before the meeting."
"Why?"
"Because Garrett stole millions."
A pause.
"But he didn't steal them for himself."
I gripped the phone.
"Who are you?"
The woman breathed once.
May you like
Then answered.
"Melissa Grant."
