Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Ten thousand.”
Khloe nodded.
“Missing?”
“Yes.”
“I already know.”
Her eyes widened.
“You do?”
“Found out tonight.”
“Then Paulie—”
“Was responsible for transfer.”
Khloe closed her eyes.
Vincent watched.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“How long?”
“Five days.”
His temper sparked.
“Five days?”
She stepped back.
Immediately.
Vincent saw it.
Fear.
He lowered his voice.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Khloe looked toward the floor.
“Because the last person who accused Paulie of stealing disappeared from payroll the next morning.”
Vincent frowned.
“Who?”
“Samuel Reed.”
“Samuel quit.”
“That’s what Paulie said.”
Vincent stared.
Khloe continued.
“Samuel told me he found missing feed payments.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Why didn’t he come to me?”
“He planned to.”
Her voice dropped.
“Then Paulie learned about it.”
Vincent felt something tighten behind his ribs.
“What happened?”
“He left.”
“Left where?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent moved toward the window.
Freezing rain streaked the glass.
Paulie.
Nine years.
He had been there when Vincent expanded the north pasture.
When Vincent’s father died.
When a drought nearly broke the ranch.
He had slept beside the herd during two winter storms.
Loyalty was built from memories like those.
Maybe that was why betrayal required memory first.
Khloe spoke quietly behind him.
“There’s more.”
Vincent turned.
“Of course there is.”
She almost smiled.
Didn’t.
“The grazing land.”
“What about it?”
“It isn’t being transferred to Costa Ranch.”
He looked toward the documents.
“They say Costa Holdings.”
“Yes.”
“That’s ours.”
“No.”
Vincent went still.
Khloe approached the desk.
She pointed toward the corporate filing code.
“Costa Holdings was dissolved four years ago.”
“I know.”
“This one has a different registration number.”
Vincent stared.
“What?”
“Same name.”
Khloe turned the page.
“Different entity.”
“Owned by?”
“I couldn’t access the ownership filing.”
“Why?”
“Registered through Cheyenne.”
“Then how do you know Paulie?”
She opened a small notebook.
“I compared payment destinations.”
Vincent stared at columns written in her precise hand.
Dates.
Amounts.
Invoice numbers.
Bank references.
“One of the winter fund transfers went to an escrow company.”
He leaned closer.
“Then from the escrow company to Costa Holdings.”
“The fake one.”
“Yes.”
Vincent felt anger become something more disciplined.
Dangerous.
“How much?”
Khloe hesitated.
“Ten thousand this week.”
“What before that?”
“Possibly thirty-eight thousand over eighteen months.”
Silence.
Vincent looked at her.
“That is not possible.”
“I thought the same.”
“Thirty-eight thousand?”
“Possibly more.”
He sat in the desk chair.
For the first time that night, he looked tired.
Khloe watched him.
“You should know something.”
He laughed once.
“Apparently I should know many things.”
“I didn’t hide it because I distrusted you.”
Vincent looked up.
“Then why?”
She held the blanket tighter.
“Because I thought you trusted him more than you trusted me.”
The answer hurt because it was true.