Chapter 96 - The Records Room
Nothing had been stolen from the records room.
The door lock showed no forced entry. The alarm had not been triggered. The administrator found one cabinet open and a box moved from the lower shelf to the desk.
The box contained the original dock acquisition schedule.
“The building has a key log,” Nora said. “We’re asking who accessed the premises.”
The center’s staff had been instructed not to enter the records room alone while the review continued. Ruth had followed the procedure exactly. She had found the open cabinet during her morning check and called the administrator.
The access log showed that a temporary badge had been used at 8:13 the previous evening. The badge had been issued to a contractor years ago and should have been inactive.
“Was it used by someone from Adrian’s office?” I asked.
The administrator said the badge number did not identify a person. The camera covering the hall had been offline for repairs.
The only camera still working showed a figure entering the building from the side entrance. The image was too grainy to identify the person, but the figure carried a long envelope.
Dominic’s security adviser offered to review the building’s access controls. I thanked him but asked that he work through the foundation’s counsel. I did not want the review turning into a show of force.
He agreed.
The box had not been opened, according to the seal. The schedule was intact, but someone had moved the folder so its label faced outward.
“Maybe they wanted us to notice,” Madison said.
“Or wanted to make it look like someone had searched it,” Nora replied. “We can’t know.”
The moved box contained a schedule of the reserve’s planned distributions. My name was listed beside an amount, but the number had been crossed out in the same handwriting as the note “Hold pending notice.”
The accountant compared the page with the copy from the old archive. They matched.
A second sheet was missing.
The schedule referred to an attachment titled “Beneficiary release conditions.” No copy had been found in the official archive.
“Who would have had the attachment?” I asked.
“Anyone preparing the distribution schedule,” the accountant said. “We need the file inventory.”
Charles’s attorney sent a letter that afternoon, claiming the board had exceeded its authority by freezing the reserve. The board’s counsel responded that the preservation order remained in place and that no funds had been moved.
The exchange became sharper. Charles’s statement described the overnight entry as “an unfortunate misunderstanding involving a contractor.” The foundation had not yet identified the person who entered.
I called my father.
He answered after the fifth ring.
“Did you send someone to the records room?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you know a temporary badge was used?”
“No.”
“Do you know who had access to the beneficiary release conditions?”
“I believe those papers were handled by Adrian.”
“Did you ever see them?”
“I saw a schedule.”
“Did you see my name?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sighed. “I thought the allocation was still being reconciled.”
“You saw my name and didn’t tell me I might have money set aside?”
“I didn’t want to mislead you before the numbers were final.”
“You could have told me the numbers weren’t final.”
He was quiet.
“Did Mom ask you to send me the full account?”
“I don’t remember that.”
“She wrote it down.”
“I haven’t seen the notebook.”
“She asked for me to be told.”
“I can’t answer for what she wrote.”
“No,” I said. “You can only answer for what you did.”
He ended the call without saying goodbye.
That evening, the administrator found an envelope tucked behind the desk drawer in the records room. It had not been there during the last inventory.
The outside was addressed to me in Anne’s handwriting.
May you like
The envelope was sealed.
No one opened it.
