Chapter 6 - The Audit File That Wasn’t About Missing MoneyPolice arrived at 9:42 p.m.
The wedding ballroom became a crime scene.
Guests were asked to remain long enough for names and statements to be collected.
The string quartet packed quietly.
Servers stopped pouring champagne.
The cake stood untouched beneath chandeliers.
Victoria sat at the bridal table in her wedding gown, staring at nothing.
Preston spoke with an attorney on the phone.
Evelyn remained beside Sophie.
Buddy refused to leave the little girl's side.
Detective Laura Bennett from Chicago Police took the lead.
She listened without reacting as everyone explained.
Missing necklace.
Accusation against Sophie.
Necklace in Preston's pocket.
Disabled cameras.
USB drive.
Altered contract.
Then Detective Bennett looked at Victoria.
“What is on the drive?”
“An audit.”
“Financial records?”
“Yes.”
“Have you opened it recently?”
“Yesterday.”
“Did you make copies?”
Victoria hesitated.
“The auditor sent an encrypted copy to me.”
“Cloud backup?”
“I don't know.”
The detective handed the drive to a digital forensics officer.
“Don't open it on hotel equipment.”
Preston, still nearby, immediately objected.
“My attorney is on his way. I don't consent to anyone examining private company material.”
Detective Bennett looked at him.
“Is the drive yours?”
“No.”
“Then your consent isn't relevant.”
Evelyn nearly smiled.
Preston didn't.
Forensics created a clean copy.
The drive contained seven folders.
Invoices.
Bank transfers.
Vendor contracts.
Emails.
Construction reports.
And one folder labeled:
C.H. REVIEW.
Victoria frowned.
“That wasn't there yesterday.”
Evelyn leaned closer.
“What is C.H.?”
Diane whispered:
“Charles Whitmore.”
Their father.
Victoria stared.
“That isn't possible.”
Charles had been dead for six years.
The forensic officer opened the folder.
Inside were scanned documents dated during the final year of Charles's life.
Hotel financial statements.
Notes in his handwriting.
Photographs of checks.
And emails involving a company called Northline Hospitality Partners.
Evelyn recognized the name.
“Preston's firm?”
Preston shook his head.
“No.”
“Hale Capital acquired Northline three years ago.”
“That doesn't mean I controlled it when these were written.”
Detective Bennett looked toward him.
“You know the company.”
“It's in our portfolio.”
Diane sat down.
“My husband investigated Northline?”
No one had known.
They opened a handwritten note.
Charles had written:
Northline vendors appear coordinated. Someone inside Whitmore is approving inflated renovation invoices. Total exposure may exceed $3.1M.
The note was dated six years ago.
Evelyn stared.
The current missing money wasn't a new crime.
It was a continuation.
Victoria whispered:
“Dad knew.”
Another scanned page.
Northline representative P.H. insists discrepancy is clerical.
Everyone looked toward Preston.
He laughed in disbelief.
“I was twenty-nine.”
Detective Bennett asked:
“Were you employed by Northline?”
Preston's expression changed.
“Briefly.”
“You said you only knew the company through acquisition.”
“I said Hale Capital owns it now.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“You were there six years ago.”
“So?”
“Dad wrote your initials.”
“There are millions of people with those initials.”
The detective remained calm.
“What was your position?”
“Analyst.”
Victoria stared.
“You told me you had never met my father.”
Preston froze.
Evelyn felt the room tighten.
“He said that?”
Victoria nodded.
“First dinner we had with Mom. I told him Dad would've liked him. Preston said he wished he'd had the chance.”
Preston's face hardened.
“I didn't meet him personally.”
Diane picked up another scan.
A photograph.
Charles Whitmore shaking hands with a younger Preston Hale at a hotel industry conference.
The date was visible.
Six years earlier.
No one spoke.
Victoria looked at the picture for a long time.
Then at her husband.
“You knew my father.”
Preston's jaw flexed.
“I met him once.”
“You lied.”
“It wasn't important.”
“My dead father investigated your company.”
“Not my company at the time.”
“And then you married me.”
Preston's voice rose.
“You think I spent six years planning to marry someone I hadn't met yet?”
Evelyn didn't answer.
Because the truth might be more complicated.
Maybe Preston hadn't planned the marriage for six years.
Maybe he'd recognized an opportunity when Victoria entered his life.
Detective Bennett opened another document.
A letter Charles had written but apparently never sent.
Diane began reading.
Her hands trembled.
“Northline's scheme requires someone with access to our internal approvals. I suspect the problem is closer to home than I want to admit.”
She stopped.
Victoria frowned.
“What?”
Diane continued silently.
Her face drained white.
“Mom?”
Evelyn took the page.
The next line read:
I have narrowed internal access to three people.
Diane Whitmore.
Victoria Whitmore.
Evelyn Whitmore.
Sophie watched the adults.
“What does that mean?”
No one answered.
Charles had suspected someone inside his own family.
Preston smiled faintly.
For the first time since the police arrived, he looked relieved.
“Interesting.”
Evelyn turned toward him.
He shrugged.
“Maybe your father knew exactly what kind of family he had.”
Victoria stared at the page.
“Dad suspected us?”
Diane whispered:
“No.”
“There are our names.”
“He must have had a reason.”
Evelyn continued reading.
At the bottom was another handwritten sentence.
If I am right, one of my daughters is being used and doesn't know it.
Victoria looked at Evelyn.
Evelyn looked back.
Then Detective Bennett opened the next file.
A photograph appeared.
Victoria at twenty-four years old.
Standing outside a restaurant.
Beside a young man whose face had been partially obscured.
But not enough.
Preston.
May you like
Victoria stopped breathing.
The photograph was dated five years before she claimed they first met.
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