Chapter 2 - THE DEAD MAN ON THE PAYROLL
I nearly stumbled.
Nathaniel steadied me.
“Careful.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know about that?”
He guided me through another slow turn.
“Because the dead man was my brother.”
My heart stopped.
Three weeks earlier, I'd been reconciling payroll records when I noticed an unusual transfer.
The employee identification number belonged to someone named Caleb Mercer.
The account had received monthly payments for six years.
But the employment status was listed as inactive.
I searched the archived files.
Caleb Mercer.
Former logistics consultant.
Deceased.
At first, I assumed it was a bookkeeping error.
Then I noticed the payments.
They weren't small.
Each month, Blackridge transferred nearly forty thousand dollars into an account connected to Caleb's name.
I reported it to my supervisor.
She told me to ignore it.
Two days later, Grant Holloway summoned me to his office.
He smiled.
“Emma, you're very thorough.”
I thanked him.
Then he placed a sealed envelope on his desk.
Inside was a check.
Ten thousand dollars.
I stared.
“What's this?”
“A bonus.”
“For what?”
“Your discretion.”
I refused.
Grant's smile disappeared.
“Be careful, Miss Parker. People who misunderstand complicated business arrangements sometimes lose opportunities.”
I left his office shaking.
That evening, Daniel called.
He told me not to worry.
He said Grant was difficult but harmless.
He said I should focus on the gala.
Now I stood in Nathaniel Mercer's arms.
And learned that the dead man on the payroll was his brother.
Nathaniel leaned closer.
“Did you accept the money?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because if you had, they would have used it to make you part of the fraud.”
The music continued.
I looked toward Grant.
He was watching us.
Nathaniel followed my gaze.
“Smile.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Just once.”
I forced a smile.
Nathaniel nodded.
“Good. Let them wonder.”
When the song ended, he guided me toward the terrace.
Cold mountain air struck my face.
I pulled his coat tighter.
Nathaniel stood beside me.
“Caleb died in a warehouse fire six years ago.”
I looked at him.
“I'm sorry.”
He nodded once.
“The official investigation called it an accident.”
I waited.
Nathaniel continued.
“I never believed that.”
He looked toward the mountains.
“Three months ago, I learned Blackridge had been using his identity.”
I swallowed.
“For what?”
“Moving money.”
I stared.
“Through payroll?”
“Partly.”
Nathaniel turned toward me.
“Emma, I need to know exactly what you found.”
I hesitated.
He noticed.
“You don't trust me.”
I laughed nervously.
“Should I?”
For the first time, he smiled.
“No.”
I stared.
He continued.
“Not yet.”
Then he took out his phone.
He showed me a photograph.
A burned warehouse.
Black smoke rising into the night.
“Caleb died here.”
I looked at the image.
Then at Nathaniel.
May you like
He said quietly:
“And someone at Blackridge has been getting rich from his death ever since.”
