Chapter 6 - The Perfect Scapegoat
I had always believed that if you worked hard, kept honest records, and told the truth, you could protect yourself from false accusations.
That afternoon, I learned how dangerously naïve that belief could be.
Daniel Mercer had not merely accused me of financial misconduct.
Someone had arranged an entire paper trail to make me appear guilty.
Invoices.
Access records.
Payment approvals.
Even internal accounting notes written in language that sounded disturbingly similar to mine.
And the person behind those records had access to the highest levels of Caldwell Construction.
Tessa and I took the information directly to Detective Ortiz.
She examined the access logs carefully.
"These show that someone used Morgan's credentials from the executive office," she said. "They don't prove who was at the keyboard."
"But I wasn't there," I replied.
"That matters. We need to preserve the surrounding evidence."
Tessa provided the records she was authorized to access and identified where the company's original audit files were maintained.
Detective Ortiz promised to seek the necessary records through proper investigative procedures.
Then she turned toward me.
"Until we understand what's happening, don't return to work alone."
I nodded.
My phone rang.
Daniel Mercer.
I ignored it.
He called again.
Then a text appeared.
We need to discuss your future with this company.
A few minutes later, another message arrived.
Your husband says you're confused. I hope we can resolve this without involving more people.
I showed Detective Ortiz.
She photographed the messages for the case file.
"Don't delete anything," she said.
By evening, Daniel had placed me on administrative leave.
My access to the company's systems was suspended.
I sat in Tessa's living room staring at the notice.
For six years, I had worked overtime without complaint.
I had skipped family gatherings to finish payroll reports.
I had corrected mistakes other people made and never asked for recognition.
Now my name was attached to a theft I hadn't committed.
"I could lose my career," I whispered.
Tessa sat beside me.
"No. Someone is trying to take it from you. There's a difference."
I looked at her.
"What if nobody believes me?"
"Then we'll keep finding the evidence until they do."
Her confidence nearly broke me.
Later that night, Julian called from an unfamiliar number.
I answered only after Detective Ortiz advised me to save any communications and avoid revealing where I was staying.
"Morgan."
His voice was soft.
"Where are you?"
"I'm safe."
"That's not what I asked."
I said nothing.
He sighed.
"Daniel tells me there's a problem at work."
I felt anger rise through my fear.
"You know exactly what happened."
"I know you're making terrible decisions."
"Did you steal money from my company?"
Silence.
Then he laughed quietly.
"You've always been so dramatic."
"Did you forge my signature?"
"Careful."
The warning was unmistakable.
"You're the one whose name is on those transactions," he continued. "And you're the one accusing respectable people of crimes."
I gripped the phone.
"Respectable people don't threaten their wives."
His voice hardened.
"Sign the cottage over, Morgan. Let me fix everything."
"And if I don't?"
A pause.
"Then don't blame me when your whole life falls apart."
The call ended.
I sat motionless.
Tessa had heard enough to understand.
"He's trying to blackmail you."
"He's trying to erase me," I whispered.
The next morning, Detective Ortiz arranged for the threatening messages and call details to be included in the investigation.
Meanwhile, Tessa continued reviewing legitimate historical reports that remained available to her as part of her payroll responsibilities.
She wanted to identify when the suspicious consulting company had first appeared in Caldwell Construction's records.
She found an old vendor archive.
Then another.
And another.
Finally, she called me from her apartment kitchen.
"Morgan, I think I found something."
I joined her at the table.
She displayed a payment summary from four years earlier.
The consulting company had been paid for what the invoice described as property acquisition support.
I leaned closer.
The project name was unfamiliar.
Then I noticed the client reference.
N. SLOANE PROPERTY ACQUISITION.
My stomach dropped.
"Nora Sloane?"
Tessa nodded.
"The woman Ruth told us about."
I looked at the payment date.
Then I remembered what Ruth had said.
Nora had died three days after she began wearing her necklace.
The payment to Graham Pike's associated company had been processed immediately afterward.
And the invoice had been approved by Daniel Mercer.
Tessa slowly turned toward me.
"Morgan, this didn't start with you."
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Four years earlier, another woman's death had apparently helped the same people make money.
And now they had chosen me.
