Chapter 23
NOW
Late August
Wednesday
I’d never signed any documents for the stables. I knew that. And yet…
I stared at the screen again.
It looked just like my signature. The same swirl on the K. The same slant to the lettering.
But it couldn’t be. It wasn’t.
And yet there it was.
My gaze shifted to the heading at the top of the screen.
Sales Agreement
I frowned as I scrolled the details for the sale of a foal. I paused at the bottom; it was dated July, two years earlier. While I was still at the stables.
I shook my head slowly. The timing fitted. But, still, I would remember signing something like that. Wouldn’t I?
I grabbed the laptop, swung my feet to the floor and scurried to the table, picking up a pen and notepad as I went. If there was something wrong, something hidden, it would be in the numbers. It had to be.
I set everything down on the table, slid into a chair and pulled the laptop closer.
This was what I was good at. Details. Analysis.
I worked through the files again, more carefully this time, focusing on everything from two years ago. I compared each document to the spreadsheet, cross-checking every number.
There had to be a discrepancy somewhere.
Something that would explain why someone would forge my signature.
Five hours later, my eyes burned from lack of sleep but I couldn’t stop.
I wouldn’t.
Not until I figured out what was going on.
Why my signature was on paperwork where it didn’t belong.
And yet nothing stood out. Nothing explained it.
At least not to me. But then, so much of what I was looking at didn’t even make sense.
Vet treatments. Medication logs. Breeding records. All were filled with terms I barely recognised.
I scrolled through the photos I’d taken on my phone. The quality wasn’t ideal. The flash had washed out parts of the pages, but there was enough there to make them readable. And, yet, still completely useless.
I leaned back in the chair, massaging my temples with my fingertips.
What was I going to do?
I could go to Ryan. Show him the document. My signature. Explain what I’d found.
I swallowed. Except that would mean explaining how I had the document in the first place.
He wouldn’t listen to me. Not once he realised I’d broken in. He hadn’t even listened to me in the car park yesterday.
I snorted. Come to think of it, when had he ever listened to me since we got here? From the moment we’d arrived at Blackwater Stables he’d stopped caring about what I thought. What I felt.
I’d tried to tell him about Charlotte. How she treated me. How it impacted me.
He’d dismissed it. My concerns. My feelings. All of it. And I’d let him.
I shook my head. No. There had to be a better option.
I looked back at the screen, opening the document again. I knew I hadn’t signed it. So, who had? Or, more importantly, why bother?
It was just a standard sales contract. There was nothing unusual about that. So why forge my signature? What was I missing?
I shoved the laptop away, tired of staring at it all night and getting nowhere.
This wasn’t my world. Hotel bookings, guest records, maintenance requests, those I understood. But this… I didn’t understand any of it. Which meant I was never going to be able to figure this out on my own.
I needed help. But from who? Not Ryan. Definitely not Ryan.
Which left me with no one to turn to.
I stilled. I’d thought that once before. When Ryan had left me in the stables office and gone to help Charlotte, abandoning me with a desk full of paperwork I didn’t understand and a system so disorganised it made no sense.
I’d been completely out of my depth. Until someone helped me. Showed me the filing system. Explained the records. The processes.
Ben.
Maybe he’d help me now too.
I frowned. Except I didn’t even know his surname, let alone how to reach him. He’d left the stables before I had.
Unless…
I pulled the laptop closer and opened the Payroll folder. Pulling up the records from two years ago, I scanned for a Ben.
There.
I stopped and smiled. I’d found him. Ben Baxter. His address, phone number and email address were all listed. Everything I needed.
I grabbed my phone and started tapping in his number, but stopped.
No. This wasn’t the kind of conversation to be had over the phone. This needed to be done in person. I needed to show him the records. The forgery.
I snapped the laptop shut, scooped up my notebook and shoved them both under my arm as I headed for the door.
Ben was the only person who’d helped me at Blackwater Stables before. And he was the only person who might help me now.