Laura opened to the final tab.
The documents there were the reason Daniel had refused to dismiss the discrepancies as clerical errors.
One vendor appeared repeatedly across twelve Kingsley Properties locations.
North Peak Mechanical Services.
The company had billed Kingsley Properties for emergency repairs, equipment replacements, inspections, and after-hours labor.
Daniel had called the number on one invoice that afternoon.
Disconnected.
He searched the vendor information in archived maintenance records.
North Peak had never appeared before Richard Vale became executive vice president of operations.
More troubling, the mailing address listed on several invoices matched a small commercial property once used by a consulting firm.
The consulting firm had been registered to Richard’s brother-in-law.
Laura read the page twice.
Richard’s face changed.
“That proves nothing.”
“No,” Daniel said.
“But this might.”
He turned to a spreadsheet he had printed from the building management system.
Each disputed invoice had a corresponding work order.
Several work orders had been closed using Daniel’s employee identification number.
He had not closed them.
Someone had used his credentials.
Laura looked up.
Richard immediately pointed at Daniel.
“There.
You see? His ID.
Maybe your hero isn’t as innocent as you think.”
The accusation came too quickly.
Daniel had expected it.
He removed one more sheet.
“Building access logs.”
Richard went silent.
Daniel explained that company maintenance terminals could only be accessed from secured property networks.
The records showed Daniel’s credentials had been used to close work orders at times when his access badge showed him entering entirely different buildings miles away.
On one date, his login had approved a repair at 11:42 p.m.
At that exact time, Daniel was recorded on security cameras responding to a burst pipe at another Kingsley property across Denver.
He could not have done both.
Someone had copied his credentials.
Laura looked at Richard.
“You chose him because nobody would notice him.”
Richard said nothing.
“You used maintenance accounts because the board focuses on acquisitions and occupancy rates.
You assumed repair costs would disappear into operating expenses.”
Still nothing.
“And if anyone ever looked closely, Daniel’s employee ID was sitting on the work orders.”
Richard finally laughed.
It was not a pleasant sound.
“You have built an entire fantasy from photocopies in a mountain lodge.”
Laura closed the folder.
“No.
Daniel built a trail.”
She reached into her coat pocket and removed her phone.
Richard glanced at the blank signal bars.
“No service,” he reminded her.
Laura looked at Daniel.
He understood.
Earlier, while repairing the frozen generator fuel line, Daniel had mentioned that the lodge had an emergency satellite communicator stored with the mountain safety equipment.
The battery had been almost dead.
He had connected it to the truck’s portable charging pack.
Laura had forgotten about it.
Richard had never known.
Daniel walked toward the supply cabinet.
Richard stepped in front of him.
“Where are you going?”
Daniel stopped.
Laura answered.
“To make a call.”
Richard’s confidence finally broke.
He lunged toward the table and grabbed for the folder.
Laura caught one side.
Pages spilled across the floor.
Daniel pulled Richard back before anyone fell into the heater.
For several seconds, the room erupted into movement—paper sliding beneath chairs, Richard shouting, Laura ordering him to stop.
Then Daniel saw a small black object fall from Richard’s coat pocket.
A USB drive.
