Chapter 2 - THE EMPLOYEE WHO DIDN’T EXIST
Julian sat down before I could say anything.
“I’ve never seen that name.”
“The money goes to your address.”
“I know what the page says.”
“Do you?”
My voice rose.
“You took four hundred dollars from me last night.”
“I gave it back.”
He pointed toward an envelope on the desk.
Four hundred dollars.
Exact amount.
I did not touch it.
“Receipt.”
“What?”
“If that is reimbursement, I want documentation showing why I’m getting it.”
Julian stared.
Then something close to shame crossed his face.
“I deserved that.”
He printed a signed reimbursement record.
Only then did I take the money.
My father had always said cash disappears twice—once from your wallet, and again from history if nobody documents it.
Maybe accounting school had finally ruined me.
We returned to the binder.
Anthony Hayes had allegedly worked 312 support shifts during the previous year.
No employee photo.
No badge history.
No scheduling profile.
Yet the payroll-linked tip system had sent more than $18,000 to the account associated with him.
Julian finally recognized the bank.
“That’s not my account.”
“Then why your address?”
“My brother stayed with me two years ago. He opened an account there.”
“What’s his name?”
“Anthony Park.”
Not Hayes.
Still strange.
Then Julian pulled out his phone.
His brother had moved to Seattle.
The account had supposedly been closed.
We called nobody yet.
I photographed nothing without thinking.
This was corporate material, potentially confidential.
Instead, Julian called the number on the binder’s inside cover.
Dana Lowell answered.
He put her on speaker.
There was a long pause after he explained we had found her binder.
Then:
“Do not remove anything.”
“We haven’t.”
“Is Emma there?”
I stiffened.
“Yes.”
Dana sighed.
“I owe her an apology.”
“For the walkout?”
“Yes. The check was guaranteed internally. We expected management to follow company policy and log the unpaid bill. We did not expect anyone to take cash from an employee on the spot.”
I looked at Julian.
He looked at the floor.
Dana continued:
“The test was designed because we received complaints.”
“From whom?”
“I can’t discuss other employees yet.”
Then she said:
“But Emma, one of the complaints was yours.”
My mind stopped.
Six months earlier, I had emailed payroll because my tip statements did not match what I calculated from nightly reports.
Nobody answered except an automated confirmation.
“I thought they ignored it.”
“They didn’t.”
The complaint had eventually reached Redwood’s new internal audit chair.
That triggered a broader review.
Then Dana told us the binder contained only field copies.
The original evidence was secure elsewhere.
Good.
Because the next morning, someone broke into Aurelia House’s management office.
Nothing valuable was taken.
No cash.
No wine.
No electronics.
May you like
Only the leather binder was missing.
Except Julian had already locked it in his apartment safe.
