Chapter 5 — The Money Inside My Walls

My finance director stood on the other side of the desk, reading the documents with a face that had gone pale above his expensive collar.

“This account is inactive,” he said.

“No. This account is supposed to be inactive.”

He turned a page.

“Those transactions aren’t in our ordinary reports.”

“That’s why you’re here.”

Knox stood by the window. My attorney, Daniel Price, sat beside the desk with his laptop open.

I had brought the three of them into my office separately and told nobody else why.

The fewer people who knew what we had found, the fewer warnings could leave the building before we understood it.

My finance director looked at Daniel.

“Do we need to notify the bank?”

“We need to preserve the records first,” Daniel said. “And establish which permissions remain active.”

I pointed to the email.

“Celeste had authority over a private investment portfolio during our marriage. Why would that give her access to this subsidiary?”

“It shouldn’t.”

“But it did.”

He hesitated.

“I’ll need the archived permissions.”

“Then get them.”

He reached for his phone.

“From here,” I said.

His eyes lifted.

“You think I’m involved?”

“I think my former wife let somebody use my company to move Mercer’s money. Until I know how, nobody gets to be offended.”

He looked down and made the call.

By nine that evening, we had enough to act.

An old administrative account had remained active after the divorce. Its permissions had been expanded through a request attributed to Celeste and approved during a restructuring.

Garrett had used a separate login tied to that account.

Invoices passed between firms that shared addresses, directors, or nothing at all except the same contact number.

The amounts were large enough to matter and small enough, individually, to disappear among legitimate purchases.

Knox put a sheet in front of me.

“Meridian is the center.”

“How much?”

“We don’t have a reliable total yet.”

“Then don’t give me one.”

My finance director rubbed his eyes.

“If we stop payments tonight, certain suppliers will notice.”

“Which suppliers?”

He didn’t answer.

“The ones getting paid for work they didn’t do?”

“We still have legitimate contracts tied to some of these accounts.”

Daniel leaned forward.

“We can suspend the questionable payments while keeping essential operations running. But we document every decision.”

“Do it.”

My finance director nodded.

“Revoke the old permissions,” I continued. “Preserve the logs before anything changes. Nobody deletes an email because they think it will help me.”

Daniel looked at me.

“You understand that this may expose other parts of your business.”

I did.

There were accounts in my company that had never been designed for daylight. Men who relied on my silence. Agreements a prosecutor would describe differently from the people who made them.

For years, I had kept legitimate operations and everything else apart through discipline, careful staff, and the understanding that mistakes carried consequences.

Celeste had exploited that confidence.

“Separate what belongs to this scheme,” I said. “Don’t hide it.”

Daniel held my gaze.

Then he turned back to his laptop.

Knox’s phone vibrated.

He read the message and passed it to me.

The clinic has acknowledged the record reference. Formal confirmation pending. Details match the archived entry.

I looked at Piper’s birth date.

Late winter.

Wyatt had been born that spring.

A few months apart. Two children close enough in age to mistake shared features for the ordinary resemblance of friends.

“You’re certain about the source?” I asked.

“As certain as we can be at this stage. Castillo’s office initiated the request through counsel. No payment to a records broker.”

I nodded.

The answer would need to survive outside this room.

That mattered now.

At ten, Daniel received a call from the person handling Piper’s placement.

A welfare visit had been made. Joanna’s home had been found needing further review. Piper had food, her new coat, and no visible injury. An alternative placement was being sought, but nothing would be completed that night.

I asked to speak to the worker.

“She has been approached by an unidentified adult,” I said. “She’s described repeated appearances near her school and the cemetery.”

“Has that been reported?”

“We’re collecting the details.”

“Then send them through. We can flag the concern.”

“I want someone physically there.”

“Mr. Ashford, we can’t place a guard in every home based on an unverified account.”

I could have made threats.

Instead, I gave her Knox’s number and asked Daniel to send a written summary.

Then I called the man watching the house.

“Stay through the night.”

“Two people or four?”

“Two visible to nobody. Another pair nearby.”

“Understood.”

“And if anybody approaches Piper?”

“Call Beckett.”

“Immediately. No improvising around the child.”

When I hung up, Knox was studying me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

“You’re giving different instructions.”

I looked at the photograph on my desk.

“Yes.”

My finance director left with Daniel shortly before eleven. Knox remained long enough to tell me Garrett’s public business record was mostly decoration.

“He calls himself an investor,” he said. “But the companies he represents lead back to people Mercer uses.”

“Where is he now?”

“Still working on that.”

“Celeste’s lawyer sent me her death certificate. He should know.”

“I’ll check him too.”

After Knox left, I went to the locked storage room behind my office.

The key stuck. I hadn’t used it in two years.

Inside were six boxes.

I brought the smallest one out myself.

Wyatt’s things had been packed by people who loved him and feared hurting me. Tissue paper separated toys that had once been thrown into drawers. His shoes had been cleaned.

Someone had folded his blue blanket.

I sat on the floor.

The blanket was softer than I remembered.

At one corner, Wyatt had worried the stitching loose with his fingers when he was tired. I had told him to stop dozens of times.

Now I ran my thumb over the same place.

Beneath it was a drawing.

Two children stood beside a dog. One held a brown shape with round ears. Above them, Wyatt had written his name and Piper’s.

He had drawn a house behind them.

Our house.

I checked the back. No date.

It didn’t need one.

He had spent three weeks preparing to give away pieces of a life I thought belonged only to him.

I called Knox.

“Find out why Claire’s messages about that evening never reached me.”

“They reached your assistant.”

“Then find out who spoke to him afterward.”

“Silas—”

“I’m not looking for someone to blame because I missed dinner. I want to know whether Celeste knew what Wyatt intended.”

Knox understood.

“I’ll trace it.”

I put the drawing beside the photograph.

My phone lit up.

Unknown number.

I opened the message.

Piper is not safe where she is. They know you went to Castillo. Pier Nineteen, tomorrow at midnight. Come alone.

I read it once, then called Knox again.

He answered immediately.

“I just sent you something.”

“Someone sent me an invitation.”

I forwarded the message.

“Don’t answer yet,” he said.

I answered anyway.

Who are you?

The reply came less than a minute later.

Someone who loved Wyatt too. Someone who couldn’t stop what happened to him.

I typed:

If you know he was killed, tell me now.

Three dots appeared, disappeared, then returned.

There is a man who can explain what was done to the car. I can give you his name. I also have what Noelle kept out of the envelope.

Knox called.

“That could be bait.”

“I know.”

“They know about the lawyer.”

“I know.”

“You’re going.”

It wasn’t a question.

I looked at the blue blanket on the floor.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re not going alone.”

I sent one final message.

Piper stays out of this. If you contact her again, the meeting is off.

The response was immediate.

That is why I contacted you.

I set the phone down and opened the next box.

For the first time, I was looking through my son’s things without trying to keep him safely in the past.

Somebody had made decisions that put him in that grave.

I intended to learn every name.