Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Gideon
I close the office door after Rhea leaves and stand there longer than necessary.
I do not rush to my desk. I do not sit. I just replay the interaction from the moment she stepped inside, committing all the details to memory.
Her posture. Her tone. The way she answered questions without padding or panic.
She did not come here to charm me or to manipulate the situation in her favor.
She came here to prove her innocence. She came here to be believed.
I pull the RidgeLine Development file from my desk drawer and spread the contents across the surface.
Bank summaries. Access logs. Internal reports.
The file is thicker now than when I first received it.
More pages. More inconsistencies. More evidence that points away from Rhea and toward someone with more access and more to lose.
On paper, the suspicion makes sense. Rhea has clearance. She touches the accounts regularly. Her login appears in the timeline again and again.
But people who steal do not flag discrepancies themselves. And they don’t walk into a private investigator's office and offer to help with the investigation.
I lean back against the desk and study the timeline again. The withdrawals are small and buried among routine transactions. Someone careful did this. Someone patient. Someone who knew how to hide his actions in plain sight.
My phone buzzes. I glance down to see a message from the RidgeLine contact who hired me in the first place.
Any update?
I do not respond right away.
Instead, I review the information Rhea provided, focusing my attention on the internal hierarchy she outlined. She works under a senior supervisor. Someone with the authority to adjust permissions… and someone who would benefit if the blame landed lower.
It makes my blood boil to think about someone trying to set Rhea up for this. The beautiful accountant who’s not only good with numbers but brave enough to march in here and challenge me not to be too lazy to dig for the right answers.
I realize I am thinking about her in a way that has nothing to do with the case, and I force my attention back to the screen.
Professional boundaries exist for a reason. I have been doing this work long enough to know that. And right now, what Rhea needs is someone who will look at the evidence without bias.
I sit and type a short response to the RidgeLine contact.
Still reviewing. No conclusions yet.
It is not a lie. It is also not the whole truth.
I gather the file and lock the office. The drive out of town is peaceful.
Pine Hollow thins fast, buildings giving way to trees and elevation.
My cabin sits where the road narrows, far enough out to discourage casual visitors.
I prefer it that way. The work I do requires space, distance, and the freedom to think without interruption.
I set the file on my kitchen table and open my laptop. Cross-referencing takes time, but patterns do not hide forever. I find it within twenty minutes.
A temporary permissions change logged after business hours. Changed just long enough to reroute transactions without triggering automated alerts. The timestamp places it outside Rhea's normal work schedule.
I close the laptop and lean back in my chair, looking out the window at the mountains rising dark beyond the trees.
So, my gut was right. She didn’t do it.
I picture her sitting across from me, her cheeks red with defiance. Fierce and beautiful.
My phone buzzes again. And this time, it is a text from Rhea.
Let me know what else you need from me. I’ll help however I can.
I mull this over. She could be extremely useful.
I’m not entirely sure who to trust at RidgeLine now.
Have they given me all the information I need?
She has access to additional information and files.
But I also don’t want to get her into trouble.
And this will only work if no one in the company catches on that she’s working with me.
I type back.
We’ll have to be careful. No one at RidgeLine can know we’re working together. I think we should meet somewhere private. My house, if that works for you?
She responds almost immediately.
Send the address.
So, I do.
I set the phone down and stare out at the mountains again. This was a simple case of embezzlement, but it feels more personal now. The stakes are higher. Because someone’s messing with Rhea. Trying to set her up as the fall-guy.
And that pisses me the fuck off.
Though I’ve just met her, I know enough about her already to know she doesn’t deserve that. Not at all.
As far as I’m concerned, she’s my client now. I’ll find who did this… for her.