Chapter 6: The Woman in My Old House
I didn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the authorization document.
Someone was still using my name.
Someone had access to financial records, banking systems, and forged legal documents.
And they were preparing to move another fortune.
At seven the next morning, Daniel returned with coffee and a stack of paperwork.
"There's been an update.""
I sat at the kitchen table.
"Tell me.""
"The bank has temporarily frozen the release.""
"Because of the forged signature?""
"Because the account triggered an internal fraud alert. However, the freeze is temporary. They need supporting evidence.""
"How long?""
"Forty-eight hours.""
I looked at Opal.
"Then we have two days.""
Daniel opened his briefcase.
"Not exactly. There's another issue.""
He placed a newspaper on the table.
The front page showed a photograph of me leaving prison.
The headline read:
FORMER BUSINESSWOMAN ACCUSED OF NEW FINANCIAL FRAUD.
My stomach dropped.
Below the headline was a short article claiming I had been involved in another attempt to steal company funds.
It quoted an unnamed source who described me as "a repeat financial offender who has never accepted responsibility.""
I crumpled the newspaper.
"Who gave them this?""
Daniel looked grim.
"Someone close to your former business.""
"Monica.""
"Possibly.""
Opal shook her head.
"She wants to destroy Rebecca's credibility before she can present the evidence.""
Daniel nodded.
"And if the bank sees this article, they'll be less likely to cooperate without additional verification.""
I stood.
"I need to go to my old office.""
Daniel immediately objected.
"That's a terrible idea.""
"I know where the original accounting system was kept. I know the people who worked there. There might still be records.""
"Your former company belongs to your sister now.""
"She doesn't own every memory I have of that place.""
Opal put down her coffee.
"Daniel, take her.""
He stared at her.
"Opal—"
"She's right. We need something that connects the transactions to the people who made them.""
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
"Fine. But we do this carefully.""
An hour later, we drove toward Columbus.
I hadn't seen my old office in four years.
The building looked smaller than I remembered.
The sign above the entrance still displayed the company name.
HALE MEDICAL SUPPLIES.
I stared through the windshield.
My father had started that business with two employees and a secondhand delivery truck.
I remembered sitting beside him at the kitchen table while he explained invoices and inventory.
"Always know where your money goes, Becky," he used to say.
"If you can't explain a dollar, someone else is deciding what happens to it.""
I swallowed.
"I should have listened.""
Daniel parked.
"We don't have to go inside.""
"Yes, we do.""
The receptionist looked up when we entered.
Her name was Linda.
She had worked for me for eleven years.
Her face changed when she recognized me.
"Rebecca?""
"Hello, Linda.""
She stood slowly.
"I heard you were released.""
"I was.""
Her eyes moved toward Daniel.
"Is everything okay?""
"I'm trying to find some old company records.""
Linda glanced toward the hallway.
"Monica isn't here.""
"Good.""
She lowered her voice.
"Rebecca, you need to leave.""
"Why?""
"She told everyone that if you came back, security should call the police.""
I looked at her.
"Linda, did you ever believe I stole that money?""
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she whispered, "No.""
My throat tightened.
"Why didn't you say anything?""
"Because Monica fired anyone who questioned her.""
I looked toward the office that had once been mine.
"Do you still have access to the old accounting files?""
Linda nodded.
"Some of them. Monica transferred everything to a new system, but the old server is still in the storage room.""
"Can you show me?""
She hesitated.
Then she led us down the hallway.
The storage room smelled of cardboard and dust.
An old computer sat beneath a desk.
Linda switched it on.
"I don't know if it still works.""
The screen flickered.
I sat down.
My hands moved instinctively over the keyboard.
I remembered the software.
The folders.
The account structure.
Within minutes, I found a directory containing archived transaction logs.
"Here.""
Daniel leaned over my shoulder.
"What are you looking for?""
"The authorization history.""
I opened the records.
There were hundreds of entries.
Then I found something strange.
A payment had been entered under my employee identification number.
But the transaction had been approved from Monica's workstation.
I opened the audit trail.
The authorization time was 2:17 a.m.
I had been in prison at that time.
"Daniel, look.""
He examined the screen.
"Can you print this?""
Linda nodded and connected the printer.
A page emerged.
It showed the transaction details, the workstation identifier, and the user account responsible.
Monica Hale.
My hands began to shake.
"That's proof.""
Daniel carefully photographed the screen and saved a copy of the file.
"Good. We need to preserve the original data as well.""
Suddenly, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Linda went pale.
"She's back.""
A woman's voice echoed outside.
"Linda? Why is the storage room locked?""
I recognized it immediately.
Monica.
Daniel closed the computer.
I stepped behind a row of filing cabinets.
The door opened.
Monica entered, carrying a designer handbag and a takeaway coffee.
"Why is this computer running?""
Linda forced a smile.
"I was checking some old files.""
Monica placed her coffee on the desk.
"Without permission?""
"I was just—"
Monica noticed Daniel.
Her expression hardened.
"Who are you?""
"Daniel Price. Legal counsel.""
She looked toward the filing cabinets.
Then her eyes stopped.
"Rebecca?""
I stepped out.
For a moment, my sister looked genuinely shocked.
Then she recovered.
"Well, this is unexpected.""
I stared at her.
"Not as unexpected as finding your name on the transaction records.""
Monica's smile disappeared.
"What records?""
"The transfers made using my identity while I was in prison.""
She laughed.
"You're still obsessed with this?""
"You forged my signature.""
"Careful, Rebecca.""
"You used my employee identification number.""
"You're making accusations you can't prove.""
Daniel stepped forward.
"We have the archived audit trail.""
For the first time, Monica looked frightened.
Only for a second.
Then she picked up her coffee and took a slow sip.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with.""
"Then explain it.""
She placed the cup down.
"You should have stayed away from Opal Hargrove.""
My blood ran cold.
"Why?""
Monica looked directly at me.
"Because she isn't the innocent old woman you think she is.""
Daniel frowned.
"What does that mean?""
Monica reached into her handbag and removed a folded document.
She placed it on the desk.
"Ask her what happened the night Walter Hargrove died.""
I stared at the paper.
It was a copy of a police report.
The incident date was seven years earlier.
The report listed Walter Hargrove as the deceased.
But one detail made my heart stop.
The original investigation had named Opal Hargrove as the last person to see him alive.
And beneath that entry was a handwritten statement.
"I heard Mrs. Hargrove threaten her husband shortly before his death.""
I looked up at Monica.
"Why are you showing me this?""
She leaned closer.
"Because you're about to discover that the woman who hired you may have a secret even worse than ours.""
Then she picked up her handbag.
Before leaving, she turned toward me and delivered one final sentence.
"Ask Opal why she spent seven years hiding the truth about her husband's death.""
I stood frozen as the door closed behind her.
Daniel immediately took the police report.
"Rebecca, don't jump to conclusions.""
But I was already thinking about the locked cabinet.
The missing records.
The seven years of silence.
And the way Opal had reacted whenever Walter's name came up.
When we returned to Worthington, I found her sitting alone in the study.
The brown envelope was open on her desk.
She looked up when I entered.
"How did it go?""
I placed Monica's document in front of her.
"Tell me what happened to Walter.""
Opal stared at the police report.
The color slowly drained from her face.
Then she looked at me with tears gathering in her eyes.
"Rebecca, I never told you the truth about the night my husband died.""
She reached into the drawer and removed a small photograph.
It showed Walter standing outside his factory.
On the back, written in his handwriting, were five words.
*IF I DIE, FIND MY DAUGHTER.*
I stared at her.
"Your daughter?""
Opal closed her eyes.
Then she whispered:
"Rebecca, I don't have a daughter anymore. At least, that's what everyone has believed for the last twenty-three years.""
May you like
She looked up.
"And I think your sister knows exactly where she is.""
