Chapter 6 - The Quiet Woman Who Kept Carbon Copies
The note was written on the back of a grocery receipt, but Leah did not treat it as a prophecy. She handed it to Hannah. They checked whether any former staff member had managed the ride logs before May was hired.
There had been one: Dorothy Hayes, a sixty-nine-year-old dispatcher who called everyone "baby" and wore bright scarves no matter the weather. Dorothy had retired after a disagreement with Dennis. She lived in a small bungalow with wind chimes hanging from the porch.
"I wondered how long it'd take somebody to ask," Dorothy said when Leah visited with Hannah.
She brought them tea and a shoebox. Inside were carbon-copy dispatch sheets, neatly dated and bundled with rubber bands.
"I wasn't stealing files," Dorothy said. "These were my personal shift copies under the old procedure. I kept them because Dennis kept telling me drivers had done trips I knew they hadn't done. When I left, I asked the board what to do with them. Nobody answered."
Hannah explained that they'd verify the records and handle any personal information appropriately. Dorothy nodded and pointed to three specific dates.
"On these days the invoices show five rides each. My dispatch line never received a request. Some families called me at home asking where their driver was. I gave them the hospital number and felt like I was abandoning them."
"You weren't," Leah said.
"Feels different when somebody is waiting at the curb."
Dorothy knew Ivy. She remembered the little girl running into the office with yellow paint on both hands after helping make the sign.
"She told me the circle wasn't a sun," Dorothy said. "She said it was a porch light because people come home when they can see one."
Leah looked at the shoebox. "Could you speak to the independent auditor?"
"I've been waiting to."
The copies linked the phony invoices to Dennis's company. Some bore Grant's approval initials. One contained a note in Grant's handwriting: Move shortage to Leah's authorization; she'll be at hospital. He had written it during Ivy's final admission.
Leah felt her hands go cold. She was not merely being dismissed as unstable. Grant had anticipated using her absence to hide the money.
Gerald reviewed the copies alongside bank records and interviewed drivers. His preliminary findings prompted the board to suspend Grant's financial access and Dennis's contracting authority. The charity retained independent legal counsel and contacted the appropriate investigators about suspected misconduct.
Grant drove to Leah's house after dark. Ray's truck was in the driveway, but Ray was inside helping fix a loose porch step. Grant pounded the door until Leah answered through the closed security chain.
"You turned my own mother against me!"
"I didn't make your choices."
"You're enjoying this. Everybody feels sorry for you."
She held the door steady. "Go home, Grant."
"This is my home."
"We can discuss access through our attorneys. Not tonight."
He kicked the bottom of the door. The sound sent Leah backward before she could help it. Ray came into the hall, phone in hand.
"I'm calling for help if he doesn't leave," Ray said.
Grant stepped away and pointed at him. "You hit me at my daughter's funeral."
"You swung at me after putting your hands on my sister. We can tell the officer exactly that."
Grant shouted something Leah could not make out, then left before the responding officer arrived. She made a report and showed the messages she'd saved. No one promised her Grant would disappear from her life. Hannah helped her plan safe, documented contact for the divorce proceedings.
When the officer left, Leah noticed she'd been holding her phone so tightly the edges had marked her palm. Ray opened a kitchen drawer and found the old notebook Ivy used as a family guest book. It contained pages headed PEOPLE WHO CAME OVER, followed by childish pictures instead of names. One page showed Ray as a square with two large boots.
"She got your proportions right," Leah said.
"I'm flattered."
On another page Ivy had drawn a man with a briefcase and no face. Grant had been away that week. Leah remembered telling Ivy that Daddy was working very hard. Ivy had responded, "Is working farther than the moon?" Leah had laughed then. Now she traced the unfinished face and wondered how many times she had explained away an absence before Ivy learned to stop asking.
"I feel like I helped him lie," she said.
Ray closed the notebook gently. "You tried to make a child feel loved. He decided whether to show up. Those are different choices."
Leah put the notebook beside Captain instead of burying it in a drawer. She would not erase the happy drawings because the sad ones had become difficult to look at.
Later, Leah sat on the front steps while Ray tightened the railing.
"You fixed that twice already," she said.
"Third time's the charm."
"I keep wanting him to admit what he did. Even with the records, I want to hear it."
Ray checked the screw. "You may never get the words. Don't let him hold your next ten years hostage for them."
Leah watched the yellow bulb above the porch. Ivy had insisted it stay on even when the family went to bed.
"The electric bill used to drive him crazy," Leah said.
"I remember."
"She said somebody might get lost."
Ray sat beside her. "Then leave it on."
Inside, Leah found a voicemail from Celeste. The woman sounded breathless.
May you like
"Dennis wants me to say you approved every invoice. Grant says they'll ruin my career if I refuse. I have the original event contract. It's worse than I told you. Call Hannah, not me."
Leah forwarded the message. An hour later Celeste stopped answering her phone.
