“Cause Hartland and I went through all the boxes of paperwork,” she said, shifting back into that focused tone. “And we keep coming across this one employee number that’s showing inactive.”
I frowned slightly.
“No resignation is attached,” she continued. “No changes in bank statements. Nothing. So I figured I’d just check if Mom has any records at her desk. Or at least a phone number we can call.”
I straightened a bit.
“What’s the number?” I asked. “Maybe I can help.”
She reached down, grabbing a folder and flipping through it until she found the page she was looking for.
Then she turned it toward me. “17A.”
The second I saw it I knew.
She noticed.
“You know it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.
I exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“That’s Alice’s employee number.”
She blinked.
“…what?”
“I never closed it,” I said. “Couldn’t bring myself to. So it just sat there.”
Her brows pulled together immediately.
“That don’t make sense,” she said. “If it’s inactive, why is it still showing movement in the system?”
“Movement?” I repeated.
“Yeah,” she said, already flipping through more pages. “It’s still being calculated in payroll growth. Every year. Five percent, just like everybody else.”
“That shouldn’t be happening,” I frowned.
“That’s what I’m saying,” she replied, her tone sharpening now. “And there’s no linked account for withdrawals. Which means the money isn’t going anywhere.”
We both went quiet.
Rory straightened a little, flipping the folder closed halfway before looking back up at me.
“Do you know what bank she used?” she asked.
“Same as everybody else,” I said. “We kept it consistent. Easier for payroll.”
She nodded once, already reaching for her phone.
I watched her pace a step or two while it rang, her fingers tapping lightly against the back of the phone.
“Hi, yes,” she said when someone picked up. “I’m calling to verify an account under the name Alice Rodriguez.”
Her face didn’t change at first as she waited. Then her brows pulled together slightly.
