Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE THAT WASN'T HERS
Grace stared at the forged signature until the letters blurred.
GRACE A. MILLER.
Someone had copied the shape of her handwriting almost perfectly.
Almost.
The capital G was wrong.
Grace always formed hers with a narrow loop.
This one was wide.
She looked up.
"What is this?"
James remained on the other side of the chained door.
"A payroll acknowledgment."
"For what?"
"According to the document, you confirmed receiving twenty-two dollars an hour."
Grace laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"I make twelve fifty."
"I know."
"And I never signed that."
"I believe you."
Grace looked down the hallway.
"Come inside."
James hesitated.
Grace removed the chain.
"My daughter is sleeping. Keep your voice down."
The billionaire entered an apartment smaller than his penthouse kitchen.
James noticed everything without appearing to.
The folding table with one broken chair.
The refrigerator covered with Chloe's drawings.
The tiny artificial Christmas tree sitting on a milk crate.
The space heater.
The almost empty kitchen shelves.
He removed his coat.
Grace pointed toward the table.
"Sit."
James obeyed.
That surprised her.
Most wealthy men Grace had cleaned around treated furniture as though it automatically belonged to them.
James waited.
Grace opened the folder.
There were twelve pages.
Time sheets.
Bank transfers.
Invoices.
"What am I looking at?"
"Northstar bills my company for your labor."
"Thirty-eight an hour."
James nodded.
"That's not automatically suspicious. Cleaning contractors have insurance, equipment, administration, taxes."
"But?"
"But they're claiming you receive twenty-two."
Grace looked at the page again.
"And they keep the difference."
"That appears to be part of it."
"Part?"
James removed another page.
"These hours."
Grace looked.
October.
Thirty-nine hours.
Forty-two.
Thirty-seven.
She frowned.
"I worked more than that."
"How much?"
"Usually forty-eight to fifty-two."
James leaned back.
"Do you have records?"
Grace stood.
She crossed to a drawer and pulled out a small red notebook.
"I write down every shift."
James took it.
Each page contained dates, locations, start times, and end times.
"You keep all of this?"
"My husband taught me."
James glanced up.
Grace corrected herself.
"Ex-husband."
She pointed to the notebook.
"He used to say if someone controls your paycheck, you keep your own numbers."
James examined several weeks.
"This could matter."
Grace sat.
"Who exactly is Leonard stealing from?"
"Potentially me."
James paused.
"And you."
She folded her arms.
"Why would my landlord be connected?"
"I don't know yet."
"You said Leonard has money in the building company."
"An investment entity linked to his brother owns part of the management firm."
Grace stared at him.
"That sounds complicated."
"It is."
"Complicated usually means rich people stealing legally."
James almost smiled.
"Sometimes."
Grace did not.
"Why me?"
"Maybe not only you."
That answer frightened her more.
James opened another document.
"Northstar employs seventy-four cleaners across properties connected to my company."
"Seventy-four?"
"Possibly more."
Grace thought about Teresa, who cleaned the Uptown location.
Miguel from the West Side hotel.
An older woman named Ruth who worked nights downtown.
"Do they know?"
"Probably not."
Grace looked toward the bedroom.
"What happens now?"
"I investigate."
"And me?"
James hesitated.
"I can reinstate you immediately."
"No."
He frowned.
"No?"
"I'm not going back under Leonard."
"He'll be suspended."
"Still no."
James studied her.
Grace folded the forged document.
"Someone used my name. My boss fired me the minute you started asking questions. My landlord threatened me. I need to know what's happening before I walk back into that building."
James nodded slowly.
"Fair."
Grace looked at him.
"You thought I'd say yes."
"I thought you needed the job."
"I do."
"Then why refuse?"
"Because needing money doesn't make me stupid."
James leaned back.
Something like respect passed through his face.
Grace noticed.
She disliked that she noticed.
"Okay," he said.
"I can place you at another property."
"Still your company."
"Yes."
"Still connected to Northstar?"
"No."
Grace considered.
"I'll think about it."
James looked around the apartment again.
Grace immediately noticed.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Look at my home like you're figuring out how much everything costs."
"I wasn't."
"You were."
James did not deny it.
Grace lowered her voice.
"I don't need you buying furniture or paying my rent."
"I didn't offer."
"You were about to."
"Actually, I was about to ask whether you have somewhere safe to stay if the eviction becomes immediate."
Grace looked toward Chloe's room.
"No."
James nodded.
"Then that's information. Not charity."
Grace hated how calmly he said it.
Before she could reply, Chloe appeared in the doorway.
Her hair stuck up on one side.
She held her doll under one arm.
"Food man."
Grace sighed.
"Chloe."
James smiled.
"Hello."
Chloe walked closer.
"Why are you in our house?"
"Business."
"What business?"
"Your mom is helping me solve a problem."
Chloe looked impressed.
"My mom solves everything."
Grace looked away so they would not see her face.
Chloe climbed onto the chair beside James.
"Did Santa find you?"
James glanced at Grace.
"No."
"I knew it."
Chloe disappeared into the bedroom and returned carrying folded paper.
She placed it in James's hand.
He opened it.
A drawing.
The restaurant.
Booth Nine.
Three people eating dinner.
Across the top, in uneven purple letters, Chloe had written:
NOBODY EATS ALONE ON CHRISTMAS.
James stared at it longer than necessary.
"Thank you."
"You can keep it."
"I will."
Grace saw something change in his eyes.
She wondered who James Whitmore had lost.
Before she could ask, his phone rang.
Evelyn.
James answered.
"What did you find?"
The voice on the other end spoke quickly.
James's face hardened.
"How many?"
Pause.
"You're sure?"
Grace watched him.
"What?"
James held up one finger.
"Send everything to legal. Don't contact Leonard."
He ended the call.
Grace stood.
"What happened?"
James looked at her notebook.
"Your missing wages aren't the biggest problem."
"What is?"
"Northstar has employees who don't exist."
Grace frowned.
"Ghost workers."
"They bill us thousands of hours every month under fake identities."
"How much?"
"Potentially millions."
Grace slowly sat.
"And Leonard?"
"Approved every invoice."
Chloe, sensing the adults had become serious, hugged her doll.
Grace lowered her voice.
"Then call the police."
"We will."
"Will?"
"I need evidence that survives lawyers."
Grace laughed bitterly.
"You billionaires really do live differently."
"Fraud cases live differently."
"What does that mean?"
"It means if we move too quickly, records disappear."
Grace thought about the forged signature.
"They already know you're looking."
James nodded.
"Yes."
His phone buzzed again.
This time it was security.
James read the message.
He stood immediately.
"What?"
"Someone entered the Whitmore House office twenty minutes ago."
"Leonard?"
"No."
James showed Grace the security photo.
A man wearing a maintenance uniform was walking through the administrative hallway.
Grace leaned closer.
Her breath caught.
"I know him."
James looked at her.
"Who?"
Grace enlarged the image.
The face was partially hidden by a cap.
But she knew the posture.
The shoulders.
The scar beside the jaw.
Her stomach turned.
"His name is Daniel Miller."
"Family?"
Grace did not answer immediately.
Chloe stared at her.
"Mom?"
Grace's voice became barely audible.
"He's my ex-husband."
James looked from Grace to Chloe.
"You said he taught you to keep records."
"He did."
"Why is he inside my restaurant?"
Grace's hands began to shake.
Because Daniel had disappeared eleven months earlier.
No goodbye.
No forwarding address.
No child support.
No contact with Chloe.
The last message he had sent Grace contained only six words.
I'M SORRY. DON'T COME LOOKING FOR ME.
Now he was walking through James Whitmore's restaurant wearing a fake maintenance uniform.
On Christmas night.
Right after Leonard Price learned James was investigating payroll fraud.
Grace looked at the photograph again.
Then she noticed what Daniel was carrying.
Her red notebook was in front of her.
But Daniel held another notebook beneath his arm.
Black.
Worn.
Familiar.
Grace had seen it hundreds of times during their marriage.
Daniel's accounting ledger.
The book he refused to let anyone touch.
Grace stood so quickly her chair scraped the floor.
"James."
"What?"
"Daniel used to work for a payroll company."
James became very still.
"Which company?"
Grace swallowed.
"Northstar Facility Solutions."
Silence filled the apartment.
Then James's phone buzzed again.
A security alert.
He read it.
His face changed.
"What?"
Grace demanded.
James turned the screen toward her.
FIRE ALARM — WHITMORE HOUSE ADMINISTRATIVE OFFICE.
Grace stared.
Daniel had not returned to steal records.
May you like
He had returned to destroy them.
And if James was right, the man Grace once loved might be the only person who could prove who had stolen millions.
