Chapter 2 — A Debt She Never Owed

I carried the payment record into Luca’s office.

He had changed his shirt. Sal’s chair was empty, the gun was gone, and two attorneys sat across from his desk. I waited until they finished discussing the account freeze. Then I put the page in front of him.

“Who sent this?” he asked.

“That was going to be my question.”

The attorneys looked at each other. Luca dismissed them.

When the door closed, he read the record again.

“Elise authorized a grant,” he said.

“Did she?”

“That’s her name.”

“It isn’t her signature. And I’ve never heard of Harbor House Trust.”

His jaw tightened. “It was her housing project.”

“Why did it pay my university?”

“I don’t know.”

I wanted to believe him. I also knew he could lie without raising his voice.

I pointed to the sentence at the bottom.

“Why did you hire me?”

“Because you were the only candidate who told the truth about our books.”

“That answer works for why you kept me. Try the first part.”

He leaned back. “Your résumé came through a referral.”

“Whose?”

He waited a beat too long.

“I need a name, Luca.”

“Julian.”

“Julian who?”

“My brother.”

I had arranged Luca’s appointments for nearly a year. I knew which calls he refused, which restaurant could persuade him to eat lunch, and which board member required a warning before every meeting. I had not known he had a brother.

“Where is he?”

“Out of the company.”

“That’s a position. I asked where.”

“Pittsburgh, last I heard.”

“Why did he send you my résumé?”

“I didn’t ask.”

I laughed once. “You hired someone to handle your private schedule because a brother you won’t speak to recommended her, and you didn’t ask?”

“I interviewed you. I checked your references.”

“Did you check his reason?”

Luca said nothing.

I took the page back. “Then I will.”

His hand came down on the edge of it.

“Nora, whoever left that for you wanted a reaction.”

“They got one.”

“They may know about your brother.”

The words struck hard because he was right. The record named only me, but anyone who found the university paperwork could find the reason I had needed the grant.

“I’m going to find out what the trust kept,” I said.

“Let my people do it.”

“Your people answer to you. I need answers you haven’t edited.”

He released the page.

At eleven, I called the university’s financial-aid office. The current staff could confirm that I had received an emergency grant but would not discuss its donor over the phone. I requested my own records through the proper channel and gave them an email address outside work.

At lunch, I called Rebecca Sloan, my former supervisor at the campus bookstore. Rebecca remembered the year immediately.

“You worked every shift I would give you,” she said.

“Do you remember a woman named Elise Moretti?”

The line went quiet.

“Rebecca?”

“I remember her coming into the store,” she said. “She used the upstairs meeting room. Why?”

“She made a payment connected to me.”

Rebecca exhaled. “Then it’s time I told you what I know.”

We met at a café two blocks from her shop. Rebecca arrived with a canvas bag full of receipts and a photograph she had kept in an old store scrapbook.

Elise stood beside a group of volunteers outside a brick apartment building. She was smiling, paint on one sleeve. I recognized her from Luca’s photograph, though in this one she looked less polished and more alive.

“She was arranging temporary housing near the university,” Rebecca said. “Students with family emergencies were being pushed out of school because they couldn’t afford rent.”

“I wasn’t looking for housing.”

“No. You needed help with Owen’s appointments. I mentioned that you were taking every shift because of a family medical bill. I didn’t give her his details.”

“Did she ask you to?”

“No.”

I turned the photograph over. A date was written on the back: nine years ago, three weeks before my grant.

“Elise told me she knew a fund that could help,” Rebecca said. “I thought she meant the university. When the grant came through, I assumed she’d made a call.”

“You never told me.”

“You were angry whenever anyone offered you money. I thought you’d refuse it.”

She was probably right. At twenty-three, I had mistaken refusing help for proving I could take care of Owen.

Rebecca reached into her bag again. “There’s something else. Elise bought two tickets to a railway museum and asked me to leave them with your paycheck. I told you a customer couldn’t use them.”

I remembered taking Owen there. He had talked about the trains for months.

“Elise went too?” I asked.

“Not with you. She said she wanted to see an exhibit.”

I looked at the photograph again. Owen remembered people with unnerving precision. I would ask him Sunday, provided he wanted to talk about it.

Back at the office, I checked the archived vendor directory. Harbor House Trust was listed as inactive, yet its annual registration had been renewed every year. The contact on the latest filing was Julian Moretti.

Before I could open the next document, a message appeared from Owen’s residence.

Please call regarding a request we received for Owen’s records.

I called at once. His case manager, Ms. Parker, sounded uneasy.

“A woman contacted reception,” she said. “She claimed to be gathering documents for a family-benefits review. She asked for Owen’s intake history and your payment information.”

“Did she give a name?”

“She said she was from the Moretti group. Reception transferred her to me. I refused.”

“Did she speak to Owen?”

“No. His information hasn’t been released.”

I thanked her and asked her to note that I had authorized no review.

Then I walked to Luca’s office.

“Someone tried to get Owen’s records,” I said from the doorway.

He rose at once. “Who?”

“She claimed she worked for your company.”

“I didn’t send anyone.”

“I know. I’ve been telling you I’m being watched.”

Luca came around the desk. “Give me the number she called from.”

“I’ve asked the residence to preserve it. I’ll forward it when I have it.”

“Your brother’s safe?”

“Yes. His case manager stopped the request.”

Relief crossed his face. He reached for me, then stopped before his hand touched my arm.

I had been angry with him all day. I was still angry. But he was waiting for me to decide how close he could stand, and I noticed.

My computer chimed behind me. I had left the vendor directory open.

A scan from the old trust files had finished loading. At the bottom of the page was an approval code beside Elise’s name.

The code matched the one Sal had used to move the money.