Chapter 8 - Nora's Missing PageGrace Chen did not believe in coincidences.
She believed in documents.
At forty-four, the forensic accountant had spent nearly two decades untangling fraud, failed businesses, and financial disputes.
Her office contained no awards or inspirational slogans.
Only a large whiteboard, two computer monitors, and a framed photograph of her husband and sons.
When Ethan arrived with Margaret Shaw, Grace was reviewing a stack of construction invoices.
"I've examined the materials you sent," she said.
Ethan sat down.
"Can you tell whether Nora was right?"
"I can tell you whether the available records justify further investigation."
"That's enough."
Grace turned her monitor toward them.
A spreadsheet displayed fourteen payments from Harborlight's restricted Mercy Street fundraising account to Tidewater Civic Works.
The earliest payment was dated twenty-eight months before the gala.
The latest was nineteen months and three weeks before it.
"These total two million four hundred sixty thousand dollars," Grace said.
Ethan recognized the number from Nora's notebook.
"Exactly what she wrote."
"Yes. But that alone doesn't establish theft. A charity can hire a construction company and pay for legitimate work."
"What concerns you?"
Grace opened a photograph of Mercy Street House.
"According to these invoices, Tidewater completed structural reinforcement, electrical modernization, interior demolition, and accessibility upgrades."
Ethan stared at the image.
"None of that happened."
"Are you certain?"
"I'm a restoration contractor. My company owns the building. I know what work was done."
Grace nodded.
"We need independent site inspections, building records, contract documents, and bank evidence before drawing final conclusions."
She highlighted four entries.
"These invoices reference inspection approvals. I checked the publicly accessible municipal permit portal. I couldn't locate corresponding approved work."
Margaret leaned forward.
"Could permits be recorded under another contractor's name?"
"Possibly. That's why we verify rather than assume."
Grace looked at Ethan.
"But the discrepancies are substantial."
Ethan asked, "Who approved the payments?"
"The documents you've provided identify Vivian Bellamy and Adrian Bellamy on vendor certifications. They also reference a review by Miles Sutter."
Ethan frowned.
"A lawyer approved construction invoices?"
"His firm appears to have certified compliance with the foundation's contracting procedures, not the physical work itself."
Grace paused.
"There is something unusual here."
She enlarged the signature on one certification.
It belonged to Nora.
Ethan stared.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Nora was the person questioning these payments."
"The document claims she verified completion."
"When was it signed?"
"Twenty months before the gala."
Ethan calculated silently.
Nora had died nineteen months earlier.
The document was dated roughly one month before her death.
He leaned closer.
"That isn't her signature."
Grace didn't react.
"How can you tell?"
"She never formed the capital H that way."
Margaret raised a hand.
"Let's be careful. We can obtain known exemplars and a qualified document examiner's opinion."
Ethan pointed at the screen.
"She was refusing to approve these expenditures. Why would she suddenly sign?"
Grace's expression remained thoughtful.
"That's one of the questions we'll investigate."
That afternoon, Ethan met Lena Brooks at Mercy Street House.
He showed her a copy of the questionable certification.
Lena's face changed immediately.
"Where did you get this?"
"From documents Nora kept."
Lena studied the signature.
"No."
"That's what I thought."
"Nora was suspended from Harborlight's finance systems before this date."
Ethan looked up.
"Suspended?"
"Vivian claimed Nora was improperly accessing confidential vendor files. She revoked Nora's financial permissions while an internal review was supposedly pending."
"Then how could Nora have certified a payment?"
"She couldn't."
Ethan felt his pulse accelerate.
"Can you prove when her access was revoked?"
"There should be system records."
"Do you have them?"
"No. I was dismissed around the same time."
Lena looked toward the children painting nearby.
"But Nora kept written notes of everything."
Ethan thought of the missing second page of her memorandum.
"She copied her report."
"Yes."
"Where would she hide it?"
Lena hesitated.
"Nora trusted places more than people toward the end."
"What does that mean?"
"She believed documents were safer in a public institution with established recordkeeping than in a private office controlled by the Bellamys."
Ethan frowned.
"The library?"
"Maybe."
"Nora volunteered at three libraries."
"One of them had an archival deposit program."
Ethan considered the possibility.
His wife had once worked as a library archivist during college. She understood accession records, manuscript collections, and preservation systems.
Perhaps she had entrusted materials to someone who could keep them secure.
"Do you remember anything specific?" he asked.
Lena thought for a moment.
"She said something strange during our last conversation."
"What?"
"She said she didn't need to hide the truth forever. She only needed to keep it somewhere it would outlive the people trying to bury it."
That evening, Ethan visited Ruth.
She was arranging books on a shelf when he arrived.
"Did Nora deposit anything at a library before she died?" he asked.
Ruth looked surprised.
"Why?"
"She may have preserved records."
Ruth sat down slowly.
"Nora asked me about archival donations."
"When?"
"During her last month."
"What did you tell her?"
"That personal papers can be donated subject to access restrictions, depending on the institution's policies."
"Did she make a donation?"
"I don't know."
Ethan showed her Nora's notebook.
Ruth turned the pages carefully.
Near the back, she stopped.
A brief entry read:
Mercy Street — blue room — E.M.
Ruth touched the initials.
"E.M."
"Do they mean anything?"
She looked up.
"Evelyn Marsh."
"Who's that?"
"Dr. Evelyn Marsh. She was a professor, a former trustee of Harborlight, and one of Nora's mentors."
"Where can I find her?"
Ruth's expression darkened.
"Evelyn resigned from the foundation shortly after Nora died."
"Why?"
"She said she wouldn't serve on a board that refused to examine its own records."
Ethan felt hope for the first time in days.
"Is she still in Boston?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll call her."
Ruth closed the notebook.
"Ethan, there's something you should know."
He looked at her.
"Evelyn came to Nora's funeral."
"I remember."
"She tried to speak to you afterward."
Ethan frowned.
He remembered a crowded reception, flowers, endless condolences, and his own desperate wish to be left alone.
"What happened?"
"Grant intercepted her."
Ethan went still.
Ruth continued quietly.
"He told her you were too devastated to discuss business and promised someone would contact her later."
"Did anyone?"
"No."
Ethan stared at the notebook.
May you like
For nineteen months, he had believed silence meant nobody had anything more to tell him.
Now he wondered how many people had been turned away before their voices could reach him.
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