Chapter 2 - The Woman Everyone Was Ready to Blame
By the time Abby reached the employee entrance, her hands were shaking so badly that she dropped Pearl twice.
The second time, she crouched beside the feather duster and stayed there.
Employees passed through the corridor without looking at her.
Word traveled quickly in buildings owned by billionaires.
A housekeeper leaving with security behind her required no explanation.
By the time Abby walked onto Park Avenue, she could almost feel the accusation following her.
Thief.
Her phone rang before she reached the subway.
It was her cleaning agency supervisor, Patricia Lowe.
Abby answered.
“Hi, Patricia.”
“Tell me you didn’t do it.”
Abby closed her eyes.
“That was fast.”
“Mr. Cross’s security director called.”
“I didn’t steal anything.”
Patricia exhaled sharply.
“Twenty thousand dollars was found in your cart.”
“It was planted.”
“Abby.”
“It was planted.”
Patricia lowered her voice.
“Do you understand what this client is worth to the agency?”
There it was.
Not whether Abby was telling the truth.
Not whether she was all right.
Not whether the evidence made sense.
Money.
Again.
“I’ve worked for you for six years.”
“I know.”
“You have copies of every background check I’ve ever taken.”
“I know.”
“I once drove forty minutes back to return twenty-seven dollars a client left in a trouser pocket.”
“I remember.”
“Then why are you talking to me like this?”
Patricia was silent.
Abby already knew.
“Because Julian Cross is richer than I am.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“No.”
Abby laughed bitterly.
“It’s exactly fair.”
She ended the call.
The subway ride to Queens took forty-three minutes.
Abby spent almost the entire journey staring at her reflection in the dark window.
She kept replaying the moment her fingers hovered above the money.
Maybe Julian Cross had seen the temptation and decided that was enough to condemn her.
Maybe rich people believed wanting something was the same as taking it.
By the time Abby reached the apartment building, rain had started.
Water dripped through the cracked awning above the entrance.
She climbed four flights of stairs because the elevator had been broken since February.
Her younger brother Caleb sat at the kitchen table surrounded by engineering textbooks.
He looked up immediately.
“You’re early.”
“Lucky me.”
Caleb studied her face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Abby.”
She placed Pearl in the umbrella stand.
“I lost the Cross job.”
Caleb stood.
“What?”
“Temporarily.”
“You said lost.”
“I meant suspended.”
“For what?”
Abby opened the refrigerator.
There was half a carton of milk.
Three eggs.
Mustard.
And a plastic container of leftover rice.
She stared at it.
“Somebody planted money in my cart.”
Behind her, Caleb went silent.
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand.”
“Jesus.”
“Apparently.”
“Did they call the police?”
“No.”
“That’s good.”
Abby turned sharply.
“No, Caleb.”
“That isn’t good.”
He looked confused.
“Why?”
“Because it means Julian Cross doesn’t know whether I did it.”
Caleb rubbed the back of his neck.
“At least he didn’t arrest you.”
“He put three hundred thousand dollars on a dresser to test me.”
Caleb stared.
“What?”
Abby explained everything.
The money.
The cameras.
The missing footage.
The planted bills.
By the time she finished, Caleb looked furious.
“He’s insane.”
“He’s a billionaire.”
“Same thing with better tailoring.”
Despite herself, Abby laughed.
Then she covered her face.
Caleb came around the table.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You have classes.”
“Which I may not have after Friday.”
Abby froze.
Caleb immediately looked away.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Caleb.”
He swallowed.
“The bursar emailed me.”
“How much?”
“Abby—”
“How much?”
“Eight thousand four hundred.”
Her stomach dropped.
“They said six thousand last week.”
“They added the housing balance.”
Abby closed her eyes.
Three hundred thousand dollars.
She could see the bundles again.
One bundle would have covered Caleb.
A second could have paid her father’s rehabilitation.
She hated that her mind still calculated it.
Caleb spoke softly.
“I can take the semester off.”
“No.”
“It’s not the end of the world.”
“No.”
“Abby.”
“Mom made me promise.”
Caleb’s face tightened.
“That wasn’t fair.”
“She was dying.”
“That doesn’t make it fair.”
“She wanted you to finish.”
“She wanted you to have a life too.”
Abby turned toward the sink.
A drop of water fell from the ceiling into the metal basin.
Then another.
Then another.
“I’m fine.”
Caleb looked at her worn shoes.
He looked at the peeling wall.
He looked toward Pearl in the umbrella stand.
“No, you’re not.”
Before Abby could answer, her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then she answered.
“Hello?”
A woman’s voice spoke.
“Abigail Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Naomi Reed.”
Abby frowned.
“I don’t know you.”
“I know.”
A pause followed.
“I worked for Julian Cross three years ago.”
Abby straightened.
“In what capacity?”
“I was one of his housekeepers.”
Abby’s grip tightened around the phone.
Naomi continued.
“And I know exactly what happened to you today.”
Abby glanced toward Caleb.
“How?”
“Because it happened to me.”
Abby’s heartbeat changed.
“Money was planted in your cart?”
“No.”
Naomi inhaled.
“Mine was hidden in my locker.”
Abby sat down.
“How much?”
“Five thousand.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“They fired me.”
Naomi’s voice became quieter.
“And then Martin Voss offered me a deal.”
Abby’s skin went cold.
“What kind of deal?”
“If I signed a confession and agreed never to speak publicly, they wouldn’t involve the police.”
Abby remembered Voss’s calm face.
“Did you sign?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I had two children.”
Naomi sounded ashamed.
“And because I was scared.”
Abby looked toward the rain streaking down the kitchen window.
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because you didn’t sign anything yet.”
“How did you get my number?”
Silence.
“Naomi?”
“There are more of us.”
Abby felt the room narrow around her.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who gave you my number?”
Another long silence.
Then Naomi whispered.
“Someone who works inside Cross Tower.”
The call abruptly disconnected.
Abby stared at her phone.
Caleb moved closer.
“What happened?”
Before she could answer, someone knocked on the apartment door.
Three hard knocks.
Abby froze.
Nobody visited unannounced.
Caleb reached for the baseball bat beside the refrigerator.
“Stay here.”
“You stay here.”
“I’m bigger.”
“I pay the rent.”
“That is not how home invasion works.”
The knocking came again.
Abby moved toward the door.
She looked through the peephole.
Then she stepped back.
Her pulse jumped.
Caleb whispered.
“Who is it?”
Abby stared at him.
“Julian Cross.”
Caleb’s eyebrows shot upward.
“The billionaire came to Queens?”
Another knock.
Abby opened the door only as far as the chain allowed.
Julian stood in the hallway wearing a dark coat dotted with rain.
No security.
No assistant.
No driver.
At least none she could see.
His gaze moved over the cracked hallway walls before returning to her.
“I need to speak with you.”
Abby almost laughed.
“You suspended me.”
“I know.”
“You accused me of stealing.”
“I did not accuse you.”
“You let your security director search my belongings.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re right.”
That answer caught her off guard.
Julian looked exhausted.
Not billionaire exhausted.
Human exhausted.
It irritated her.
“What do you want?”
“The office safe was opened at 2:06 p.m.”
Abby waited.
“At 2:06, you were visible on the west-bedroom camera.”
Her expression changed.
“For how long?”
“From 2:01 until 2:17.”
“So I couldn’t have opened the safe.”
“No.”
“Then I’m cleared.”
“Not completely.”
She almost slammed the door.
Julian put one hand against the frame.
“The money was removed using my private access code.”
Abby stared.
“So?”
“Only four people know that code.”
“I’m not one of them.”
“I know.”
Abby’s anger faltered.
Julian continued.
“Someone used my code, removed twenty thousand dollars, disabled two cameras, and planted the money in your cart.”
Caleb appeared behind Abby.
“Which means somebody wanted her blamed.”
Julian looked at him.
“You must be Caleb.”
Caleb frowned.
“How do you know my name?”
Abby’s expression instantly hardened.
Julian realized the mistake.
“I reviewed Ms. Mercer’s employment file.”
“You reviewed my family?”
“I was determining motive.”
“For theft.”
“Yes.”
Caleb muttered something impolite.
Abby ignored him.
“Who are the four people?”
Julian hesitated.
“That information is confidential.”
“Then go investigate confidentially.”
She started closing the door.
“Martin Voss is one of them.”
Abby stopped.
The hallway became silent.
Julian watched her reaction.
She remembered Naomi’s voice.
Then she remembered Voss reaching for Pearl.
“Your security director?”
“Yes.”
Abby unhooked the chain.
She opened the door farther.
“Three years ago, did a housekeeper named Naomi Reed work for you?”
Julian’s expression changed.
“Yes.”
“Was she fired for stealing five thousand dollars?”
He stared at her.
“How do you know that?”
“She called me ten minutes ago.”
Julian went very still.
“What did she say?”
“That the money was planted.”
Julian’s face became unreadable.
“She signed a written confession.”
“After Voss threatened to involve the police.”
Julian said nothing.
Abby folded her arms.
“How many employees have you accused of stealing?”
“I have never falsely accused anyone.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Julian’s eyes flickered.
Abby realized.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You don’t know.”
His jaw tightened.
“Know what?”
“You think all those people failed your little tests.”
Julian’s expression changed by a fraction.
Abby stepped closer.
“How many?”
“Thirty-one.”
“And how many supposedly stole?”
“Twenty-nine.”
Caleb whistled.
“Either you hire exclusively from prison yards, or something is wrong with your math.”
Julian ignored him.
Abby stared at the man who had built an entire philosophy around distrust.
“What if they didn’t all steal?”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“I watched many of them.”
“Many?”
Julian did not answer.
Abby’s voice became quieter.
“The others?”
“Security handled the investigations.”
“Voss?”
Julian’s silence answered.
Abby felt a chill.
She remembered Naomi saying there were more of them.
“How long has Martin Voss worked for you?”
“Eleven years.”
“Longer than you’ve been doing these tests.”
“Yes.”
“Who suggested the tests?”
Julian looked toward the stairwell.
Then back at Abby.
“Voss.”
Nobody spoke.
The leaking pipe in the kitchen tapped steadily into the sink.
Abby watched Julian understand the implication.
For eight years, he had believed he was exposing dishonest employees.
But perhaps someone had been using his paranoia as a weapon.
Julian finally said.
“I need your help.”
Abby almost smiled.
“You fired me three hours ago.”
“Suspended.”
“Stop saying suspended.”
“I need someone Voss believes I distrust.”
Abby stared.
“You want me to spy on your head of security.”
“I want you to help me determine whether thirty people were falsely accused under my authority.”
“Thirty-one.”
Julian frowned.
Abby pointed at herself.
“Don’t forget the newest thief.”
His face tightened.
“You are not a thief.”
The words came more firmly than Abby expected.
She looked at him for several seconds.
Then she said.
“Prove it.”
Julian nodded once.
“I intend to.”
Abby reached for the door.
“One more thing.”
He waited.
“If I help you, you never test me again.”
Julian looked at her.
“No hidden money.”
He nodded.
“No cameras used to study whether I’m desperate enough to betray myself.”
Another nod.
“And no digging through my family unless I give you permission.”
Julian hesitated.
Abby raised an eyebrow.
He surrendered.
“Agreed.”
She began closing the door.
Julian stopped her with one sentence.
“There is something else you should know.”
Abby waited.
Julian’s voice lowered.
“When Voss gave me the employment report on you this afternoon, your mother’s name was flagged.”
Abby’s breathing stopped.
“Why?”
Julian looked directly at her.
“Because Marianne Mercer once worked for my family.”
Abby stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“It was twenty-two years ago.”
“My mother never worked for the Cross family.”
“According to our archived records, she did.”
Abby felt Caleb move behind her.
Julian continued.
“And according to those same records, she was fired.”
Abby already knew what came next.
She wished she did not.
Julian said it anyway.
May you like
“For theft.”
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