She lowered herself into the nearest chair and read the first page twice.
Greg pointed at me.
“She stole confidential information.”
Evelyn’s gaze shifted to the flash drive in my hand.
“Did you remove original company records?” she asked.
“No.
The drive contains copies of compliance materials I was authorized to review, along with my own communication records and an index identifying where the originals were stored.”
“Were stored?”
I nodded toward Greg.
“Six weeks ago, he ordered me to destroy several vendor files before the annual insurance review.
I refused.
While I was caring for my mother, he entered the archive room after hours and removed four boxes.”
Greg’s expression hardened.
“That is a lie.”
I unlocked my phone and opened a photograph.
The image showed a computer screen from the archive terminal.
The access report listed Greg’s badge number, the date, and the time: 11:43 p.m.
Another image showed the hallway camera monitor.
Greg was visible pushing a cart loaded with document boxes.
I had not secretly broken into anything to obtain those images.
Reviewing access anomalies and preserving audit evidence had been part of my job.
When the system flagged an after-hours entry, I followed the procedure Greg himself had approved two years earlier.
I documented it.
That was what he had forgotten.
Quiet employees often look invisible to people who never read the processes they sign.
Greg glanced around the office.
“These are preliminary records.
They prove nothing.”
“Then you will have no objection to a complete examination,” Evelyn said.
He opened his mouth, but the elevator chimed again.
This time, the company’s chief financial officer emerged with two outside attorneys.
Behind them walked Leonard Price, one of the founders whose name remained on the building even though he had retired from daily operations.
I had met Leonard only twice.
He was seventy-two, thin, silver-haired, and usually gentle in a distracted way.
That morning, he looked neither gentle nor distracted.
He stopped in front of Greg.
“Where are the McAllister vendor files?”
Greg’s jaw tightened.
“In storage.”
“Which storage?”
“I would need to check.”
Leonard turned to me.
“Ms.
Bennett?”
“Four boxes were removed from the third-floor archive.
The tracking labels were disabled the next morning.
Copies of the indexes are on the drive.”
Greg stepped between us.
“She was fired for cause.
Anything she says should be treated as retaliation.”
Leonard studied him.
“Her mother died.”
“That has nothing to do with the audit.”
“No,” Leonard said quietly.
“But firing her before she could answer questions about missing records has quite a lot to do with it.”
Greg looked toward Marissa again.
