Chapter 13 - A Dead Man on Payroll
The payments hadn't gone to my father's bank account. They had been routed to a prepaid account opened under his name, with a mailing address inside an office suite rented by Victor.
Grace asked the accountant, Leon Wallace, to send only authenticated records through a secure channel. Ten minutes later he called back, breathless.
“Someone has deleted the payroll folder.”
“Do not touch that computer,” Grace instructed. “Document what you saw and leave the system online for the investigators.”
Leon lowered his voice. “Celia is here. She knows I called.”
The connection ended.
Darius offered to go to headquarters. Grace stopped him.
“We aren't breaking in or confronting anyone. We report the potential destruction of evidence and let professionals secure it.”
I hated the waiting. It felt too much like the months when I'd sent emails and been told to be patient.
Simone sat with me at Evelyn's kitchen table. “I kept a list of the families who complained,” she said. “I didn't have proof of fraud then, but I wrote down what they told me.”
“Why didn't you take it to the board?”
“I was scared,” she admitted. “And I told myself staying at the clinic mattered more than making a scene.”
“Did you change your mind?”
“Yes. Watching you leave that table made me realize how many families we'd asked to leave quietly, too.”
We prepared a protected referral for the families so they could speak with independent advocates, without exposing their personal information to the donors or media.
That evening, investigators confirmed receipt of Grace's complaint. Leon was safe and willing to provide a statement. I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I received an email from an address with no name. The subject was YOUR FATHER'S LAST APPOINTMENT.
May you like
Attached was a scan of a visitor log for the morning after the basement confrontation. My father had met someone at a diner on the outskirts of town. The signature beside his name belonged to a woman I knew.
Simone Carter.
