Chapter 19 Follow the Money
FOLLOW THE MONEY
Gavin was already at his desk when Bo and I arrived at Hawthorne & Associates early the next morning.
This alone was not unusual. The dragon newt had a habit of setting off for work early, on account of his commute involving flying over a mountain range and his irrational fear of the express elevator.
What was unusual was the state of his workspace.
Printouts, spreadsheets, and financial statements covered every available surface.
Folders labeled with color-coded tabs were piled in meticulous stacks next to his usual arrangement of fire extinguishers and, more worryingly, several empty coffee cups.
A highlighter graveyard occupied the far corner of the desk, at least a dozen spent markers lined up like tiny fluorescent tombstones.
Bo cocked his head. “Is he building a nest?”
“It does have that kind of energy,” I murmured.
Dragon newts hoarded compulsively. I’d learned early on that Gavin’s version of hoarding involved organizing things within an inch of their life and then organizing them again.
“He’s been here all night,” a voice said behind us.
Bo and I both jumped a foot in the air with a yelp and whirled around.
Mindy studied us with a puzzled expression where she floated in mid-air.
I clutched my chest, my heart slamming painfully against my ribs. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.”
Bo’s ears flattened. “I nearly pooped my calorie-controlled breakfast, lady!”
Mindy rolled her eyes. “I’m a ghost. It’s not like I can announce myself.”
“Yeah, you can,” my dog huffed. “It’s called poltergeist activity.”
Mindy’s eyes started glowing.
I nudged Bo hastily toward Gavin’s desk.
The dragon newt didn’t notice our approach.
“Er, Gavin?” I asked carefully, in case I startled him and he accidentally set fire to something. “Are you okay?”
The dragon newt looked up from his computer. His horns and tail were out and his face had the glazed, feverish look of a guy who’d been staring at numbers for too long. I recognized the expression. I’d worn it myself during tax season at Pennington & Graves.
“Not really,” he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes. “I think I might have overdosed on caffeine.”
Bo lifted a paw. “How many toe beans do you see?”
Gavin squinted. “Too many.”
I glanced at the mess surrounding the dragon newt. “What’s this about?”
Gavin’s tail twitched agitatedly. “I found something in the Lincoln sisters’ financial records when I was about to leave yesterday.
And then I found something else. And, well—” He gestured helplessly at the landscape of paper surrounding him.
“It just kept going.” He swallowed. “It’s not just the Lincoln sisters’ accounts. I spotted irregularities elsewhere.”
My pulse quickened.
The elevator doors opened before I could say another word.
Didi appeared, worry lines already marring her brow. She stopped in her tracks when she saw us.
“You’re early.”
I indicated Gavin. “He never left.”
Didi blinked.
“I think we should get Samuel,” I said.
Ten minutes later, the four of us were seated around the conference table with Gavin’s findings spread across the surface.
Bo had claimed his usual spot by my chair and was eyeballing a spreadsheet like it had committed a crime.
Samuel was at the head, his fingers laced in front of his mouth and his expression the one he wore when the firm’s business crossed the line into pack territory.
“Walk us through it,” my alpha said in a hard voice.
Gavin took a steadying breath. Smoke curled from his nostrils.
“I started with the Lincoln sisters’ primary accounts.
Their clinic revenue, coven contributions, personal finances.
Everything looked normal going back five years.
” He pulled out a spreadsheet flagged with green tabs.
“Consistent income. Regular expenses. The kind of clean books you’d expect from three experienced practitioners running a legitimate operation. ”
“And then?” Didi prompted with a frown.
The witch poured herself a coffee that smelled like it could strip paint from her thermos. Gavin studied it like it was the Holy Grail before focusing on a second spreadsheet.
This one was covered in red tabs.
“Approximately fourteen months ago, somebody started tampering with the Lincoln sisters’ finances.
” He swallowed. “Their clinic revenue was being quietly rerouted without their knowledge. Vendor payments were redirected. Small amounts at first, then larger ones. And the records were altered after the fact to cover it up.”
My accountant brain engaged before my wolf could.
“Show me,” I said, leaning forward.
Gavin slid the spreadsheet across the table. I studied it with narrowed eyes.
He was right. The manipulation was subtle and sophisticated.
Revenue from the clinics had been siphoned through a series of small adjustments affecting several operating accounts—a payment here reclassified as a refund, an invoice there marked as settled when it hadn’t been.
Individually, each change was minor. Together, they painted a very ugly picture.
“Someone has been bleeding their businesses dry,” I said slowly, my stomach churning. “Probably to make it look like their clinics are winding down naturally.”
Didi raised an eyebrow. “Surely, they would have noticed.”
“Not necessarily,” I murmured. “Not if it didn’t impact their direct cashflow. It’s surprising the horrors an end of year account review can reveal.”
Gavin nodded jerkily. “I agree. By the time the sisters disappeared, their operating accounts were beginning to run on fumes. Anyone looking at the books after the fact would have assumed the clinics were already failing.” His tail twitched.
“It was only because I went through the backend banking records line by line that I caught the discrepancies.”
Samuel’s jaw tightened. “So, are we saying whoever took the sisters spent months laying the groundwork to make sure no one would question why several busy clinics suddenly went dark?”
Now that he’d said it out loud, it did sound crazy. But then again, this was Amberford.
“This is exactly like that episode of Predator Files where the cult leader was siphoning money from his followers through a fake wellness company.” Bo’s head appeared above the table edge, his eyes bright. “It was on the Discovery Channel. Season seven. The guy had a ponytail and a pet iguana.”
This derailed everyone’s train of thought, including an exhausted Gavin.
Samuel sighed. “Thanks for that contribution.”
“The iguana survived, in case anyone was wondering,” Bo added helpfully.
“No one was,” Didi said sourly. She turned back to Gavin. “You said you were up all night. Please tell me the irregularities affecting the Lincoln sisters’ accounts aren’t the only things you found.”
Gavin’s horns popped out. “That’s where it gets weird.”
He pulled out another folder. This one had blue tabs.
I was beginning to suspect the dragon newt had raided every stationery cupboard in the building.
“While I was tracing the rerouted funds from the sisters’ accounts, I ran a broader search through our compliance database.
I wanted to see if any other covens had been hit with the same kind of manipulation.
They hadn’t.” He shot a nervous look at Didi.
“But I found something else. A small coven called the Ashgrove witches has been receiving regular payments from an entity called Betterlife Management Services.”
Didi stilled. My wolf pricked her ears.
“The reason it jumped out was because the payments started around the same time the Lincoln sisters’ accounts were compromised,” Gavin continued.
“Different amounts, different dates each month, all labeled as consulting fees.” He tapped the spreadsheet.
“But the payment pattern is all wrong for legitimate consulting work. Fixed fees come on fixed dates. These are deliberately irregular, designed to stay below any automated flagging threshold.”
The rest of us glanced at each other, trying to make sense of the dragon newt’s finding.
“Somebody was paying the Ashgrove coven,” Samuel said, puzzled. “For what?”
“I don’t know,” Gavin admitted. “I would have put this down as a fluke except Betterlife Management Services is a ghost. It’s registered to a P.O.
box in East Amberford. It has no website, no client list, no visible business activity.
And when I traced it back?” He pulled out one final spreadsheet.
The tabs on this one were black. Bo eyed it like it might bite.
“It dead-ended at a holding company registered in Delaware, buried behind a chain of shell entities I can’t crack. ”
The room went deathly quiet.
My mind raced as I attempted to connect the dots.
“These might be two connected operations running in parallel,” I said slowly.
Everyone looked at me.
“On the one hand, the Lincoln sisters’ finances were being sabotaged to make it look like their businesses were suffering from a natural decline,” I explained, my pulse racing.
“At the same time, the Ashgrove coven was being paid by whoever’s behind that Delaware company.
” I met Samuel’s gaze. “I bet if we look more closely, we’ll find a link. ”
Didi’s coffee cup froze halfway to her mouth. “You’re saying the Ashgrove coven is involved in the Lincoln sisters’ disappearance?”
I met her sharp stare steadily. “The timing is too perfect to be coincidence.”
Samuel sat back and folded his arms.
“What do you know about them?” he asked Didi.
The witch frowned. “Not a lot. It’s a small coven. Maybe eight or nine members. They’ve been around for a couple of generations but they’ve never made waves.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “It’s the kind of coven that keeps its head down and minds its own business.”
I pursed my lips. “So, the kind that’s easy to pressure.”
Didi’s frown deepened. “You’re right,” the witch admitted reluctantly. “A small coven with no powerful allies would be vulnerable to coercion.”
A muscle jumped in Samuel’s jaw. I turned to Gavin
“And Melody Flowers?” I asked the dragon newt. “Did you find anything unusual about her coven’s finances? Or any connection to the Ashgrove witches, maybe?”
Gavin’s nostrils sparked. “I haven’t had time to check.”
Samuel put his hands flat on the table and rose.