Chapter 3: The Account in My Mother's Name
By the time I reached my parents' house, two cars were parked in the driveway.
Dad's truck.
Grandpa's Cadillac.
Mom's Lexus was gone.
I walked inside without knocking.
Dad sat at the kitchen table wearing the same clothes he'd had on Sunday.
Grandpa stood by the window.
Neither man spoke when I entered.
I put my purse down.
"Where's Mom?""
Dad rubbed both hands over his face.
"I don't know.""
"You said the transfer was authorized by her.""
"It was.""
"Does she have access to the company accounts?""
"She shouldn't.""
Grandpa turned from the window.
"But she did.""
Dad glared at him.
"This isn't helping.""
"No," Grandpa said.
"Pretending isn't helping.""
I pulled out a chair.
"Start from the beginning.""
Dad looked at me.
For once, there was no irritation in his face.
No condescension.
Only fear.
"At seven this morning, Martin called.""
Martin was the company's controller.
"He saw the transfer during the daily cash review. Two hundred forty thousand dollars moved from the operating account to an account at another bank.""
"Recipient?""
"TMG Consulting.""
My stomach tightened.
"Mom's company.""
Dad's face changed.
"You knew?""
"I found out yesterday.""
"How?""
"Grandpa.""
Dad turned toward him.
"You knew Linda owned that company?""
Grandpa didn't flinch.
"I knew the registration was in her name.""
"And you didn't tell me?""
"I was trying to find out whether you were involved.""
Dad stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
"You thought I was stealing from my own company?""
"I thought somebody was.""
"Your son.""
"And Trevor is your son.""
Silence filled the kitchen.
I stepped between them verbally before it became something worse.
"Dad, sit down.""
He looked at me.
For the first time in my life, he actually did what I asked.
"How was Mom able to authorize the transfer?""
He swallowed.
"Trevor requested additional account permissions for her last year.""
"Why?""
"He said it was for emergencies.""
"And you approved it?""
Dad stared at the table.
"Yes.""
I couldn't believe it.
"Without asking why?""
"Trevor said—"
I held up a hand.
"Please stop telling me what Trevor said.""
That landed.
Dad's face reddened.
Then he nodded.
"You're right.""
Those might have been the first two words of accountability I had ever heard from him.
I sat across from him.
"Have you contacted the bank?""
"Yes. They're trying to freeze the receiving account.""
"Police?""
Grandpa answered.
"Not yet.""
I looked at him.
"Why?""
"Because your firm advised us to preserve evidence before alerting anyone who might destroy it.""
I nodded.
That made sense.
My phone vibrated.
Naomi.
I stepped into the hallway to answer.
"Hi.""
"Are you with your family?""
"Yes.""
"Then listen carefully. Do not investigate this yourself.""
"I know.""
"I'm serious, Paige.""
"I know.""
"We've officially expanded the engagement. You're walled off from the case.""
"Understood.""
There was a pause.
Then Naomi's voice softened.
"Are you okay?""
I looked toward the kitchen.
My father sat with his head in his hands.
My grandfather looked twenty years older.
My mother and brother were missing.
"No.""
"That's allowed.""
I almost laughed.
"Thanks.""
"One more thing. Don't access company records. Don't ask employees questions. Don't let anyone use your work credentials or imply you're representing the firm.""
"I won't.""
We ended the call.
When I returned to the kitchen, Dad was staring at his phone.
"Your mother texted.""
"What did she say?""
He turned the screen toward me.
I didn't touch it.
The message was short.
Don't call the police. Trevor will return the money. We can fix this as a family.
Grandpa read it over my shoulder.
His jaw tightened.
"That's an admission.""
Dad whispered, "She knew.""
I watched his face.
This was the man who had spent my childhood telling me my mother always knew best.
The man who had excused Trevor's failures as "growing pains.""
The man who once told me I was selfish for refusing to lend Trevor $8,000 after he wrecked his second car.
Now he was staring at proof that the two people he defended most had deceived him.
"What does she mean, Trevor will return it?"" I asked.
Dad shook his head.
"I don't know.""
Grandpa reached for his phone.
"I'm calling the attorney.""
Dad grabbed his wrist.
"Wait.""
Grandpa looked down at his hand.
"Take your hand off me.""
Dad released him.
"Just give me an hour.""
"For what?""
"To find Linda.""
"Why?""
"Because she's my wife.""
Grandpa's expression hardened.
"And Paige is your daughter.""
Dad froze.
I did too.
Grandpa continued.
"Where was that instinct to protect family when she sat alone at graduation?""
Dad looked at me.
I looked away.
I hadn't told Grandpa.
Which meant Professor Hart probably had.
Or maybe he had learned some other way.
Dad's voice dropped.
"Paige...""
"Not now.""
"I'm sorry.""
"Not now.""
He nodded.
The doorbell rang.
All three of us looked toward the foyer.
Dad stood.
I followed at a distance.
A woman in her early thirties stood outside.
I recognized her.
Rachel Kim.
She worked in accounts payable at Holloway Home Supply.
Her face was pale.
She held a cardboard file box.
"Mr. Holloway?""
Dad opened the door.
"Rachel?""
"I need to talk to you.""
Grandpa appeared behind us.
Rachel saw him and visibly relaxed.
"Mr. Walter. Good.""
She entered.
Dad stared at the box.
"What is that?""
Rachel looked at me, then back at him.
"Records.""
"What records?""
She swallowed.
"Things Trevor told me to delete.""
Nobody moved.
Dad slowly closed the door.
Rachel placed the box on the dining table.
Inside were printed emails.
Invoices.
Purchase orders.
Copies of checks.
"I started saving them eight months ago," she said.
"Why?"" Grandpa asked.
"Because things weren't making sense.""
Dad looked sick.
"What things?""
Rachel pulled out an invoice.
"Trevor kept creating new vendors.""
Another page.
"Then he'd approve invoices before anyone confirmed the work.""
Another.
"He also changed delivery addresses on equipment purchases.""
Dad sat down.
"How much?""
"I don't know.""
"Guess.""
Rachel hesitated.
"More than a million.""
Dad's face went white.
Grandpa didn't react.
Maybe he had already suspected.
Rachel continued.
"Three months ago, Trevor realized I was asking questions.""
"What happened?""
"He offered me a raise.""
Grandpa's mouth twisted.
"To keep quiet?""
"He didn't say that.""
"He didn't have to.""
Rachel nodded.
"I refused.""
"Why didn't you tell me?"" Dad asked.
Her expression changed.
That question seemed to anger her.
"I tried.""
Dad stared at her.
"What?""
"I emailed you twice.""
"I never saw anything.""
"I know.""
She reached into the box.
"Because Trevor had access to your email.""
Dad stopped breathing.
"He deleted them?""
"I think so.""
Rachel handed him printed copies.
Dad read them.
His hands started shaking.
Then Rachel looked at me.
"I also tried contacting you.""
"Me?""
"After your graduation.""
I frowned.
"Why?""
"Trevor came into the office bragging that your family skipped it.""
My face burned.
"He said you were wasting your time becoming an accountant because you'd never understand how real businesses worked.""
Grandpa muttered something under his breath.
Rachel continued.
"That was when I looked you up.""
"Why?""
"Because I thought maybe you'd listen.""
"What happened?""
"I sent you a message on Facebook.""
"I never got it.""
Rachel looked confused.
"I sent it.""
"What did it say?""
She pulled out her phone.
After a few seconds, she showed me a screenshot.
The message was dated two days after graduation.
Paige, you don't know me well, but I work for your father's company. Something is wrong with the accounts, and I think Trevor is involved. Please contact me.
I stared at it.
"I never saw this.""
Then I remembered.
The week after graduation, Mom had come to my apartment.
She had brought leftover food from Bellini's.
It was her version of an apology.
While I showered, she'd borrowed my laptop because her phone battery was dead.
My Facebook account had been open.
I felt suddenly cold.
"Rachel, was the message marked read?""
She nodded.
"That night.""
Dad looked at me.
"You didn't read it?""
"No.""
Grandpa's expression hardened.
"Linda did.""
Nobody needed to say anything else.
Rachel reached into the box again.
"This is why I came.""
She removed a folder.
Across the top was a bank logo.
Inside were copies of transfers.
Dozens of them.
The recipient names changed.
TMG Consulting.
Northline Strategy.
Grant Property Services.
Mason Ridge Holdings.
But one thing remained consistent.
Every company connected back to either Trevor or Mom.
Dad turned page after page.
Then he stopped.
"What is this?""
Rachel leaned closer.
His face had gone completely blank.
I looked over his shoulder.
A wire transfer.
$175,000.
Sent six months earlier.
The destination wasn't a vendor.
It was an escrow company.
I frowned.
"That's a real-estate transaction.""
Rachel nodded.
"I searched the property records.""
She removed another document.
A photograph was clipped to the front.
A beautiful lakefront house.
Stone exterior.
Private dock.
Three-car garage.
Purchase price: $1.2 million.
Dad whispered, "I've never seen this house.""
Rachel pointed to the ownership line.
The property belonged to an LLC.
TMG Lake Holdings.
Registered owners:
Linda Holloway.
Trevor Holloway.
Fifty percent each.
My father stared at the page for a long time.
Then his phone rang.
Mom.
No one spoke.
Dad answered and put it on speaker.
"Linda.""
Mom was crying.
"David, please don't do anything until I explain.""
Dad looked at the lake house.
"Where are you?""
"That's not important.""
"It is to me.""
"Trevor made some mistakes.""
Grandpa closed his eyes.
Even now.
Trevor made mistakes.
Not Linda.
Not us.
Trevor.
Dad's voice became strangely calm.
"Did you buy a house with company money?""
Silence.
Mom stopped crying.
"Who told you?""
Dad's eyes changed.
"Answer me.""
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this.""
"Did you buy a house?""
"David—"
"With my company's money?""
"Our company's money.""
Grandpa's head snapped up.
Dad went completely still.
Mom realized what she had said.
"Our?""
Dad whispered.
"Linda, you don't own Holloway Home Supply.""
Another silence.
Then Mom said something none of us expected.
"Maybe you should ask your father about that.""
Every eye turned toward Grandpa.
For the first time since I'd arrived, he looked shaken.
Dad stood.
"What does she mean?""
Grandpa didn't answer.
"Pop.""
Nothing.
Dad's voice rose.
"What does she mean?""
Grandpa slowly sat down.
Then he looked at me.
Not Dad.
Me.
And somehow that frightened me most.
"Paige," he said quietly, "there's another reason I hired your firm.""
My mouth went dry.
"What reason?""
He looked at Dad.
Then back at me.
"Because this isn't only about stolen money.""
The entire room seemed to stop.
Grandpa placed both hands on the table.
"Someone changed the ownership records of Holloway Home Supply.""
Dad stared at him.
"What?""
"And if the documents I've found are real," Grandpa continued, "Trevor hasn't just been taking money.""
He paused.
"He and your mother have been trying to take the company.""
Dad's phone was still connected.
Mom heard every word.
For several seconds, there was nothing but breathing.
Then she whispered:
May you like
"Trevor told me Walter would never find out.""
And the call disconnected.
