Chapter 14 - Peter Shaw
Peter Shaw agreed to speak only after receiving a subpoena from ArcLight’s outside investigators.
He was sixty-seven and had worked as Judson’s accountant for nearly twenty years.
Naomi summarized the interview afterward.
“He says Northeast Executive Hospitality was created as a ‘temporary invoice vehicle.’”
Merritt stared.
“That phrase doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means it existed to receive money.”
“From stolen cards.”
“According to him, he believed Judson had authority.”
Merritt laughed.
“Of course.”
“Peter admits he processed refunds from Judson and Blythe’s joint account.”
“So he knew ArcLight was being repaid by my parents.”
“Yes.”
“Then how could he think it was legitimate?”
“He says Judson told him you were using your employer card to help the family manage timing.”
Merritt’s face burned.
“Meaning he thought I was stealing from my own company.”
“Essentially.”
“And he participated anyway.”
“That appears to be the problem his lawyer is currently explaining to him.”
Merritt looked toward the window.
“How many charges?”
“Seven.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Daniel said three.”
“Daniel initially found three within the current review period. Peter’s records go back eighteen months.”
“How much total?”
Naomi checked her notes.
“Eighty-seven thousand six hundred dollars in temporary charges, including the wedding venue.”
Merritt sat very still.
Most had been refunded.
But that did not make the unauthorized use smaller.
It made the pattern clearer.
“What did they use the money for?”
“Business taxes. Sloan’s apartment deposit. A charity-event vendor. Judson’s professional liability premium. Wedding expenses.”
Merritt closed her eyes.
“My company became their revolving credit line.”
“Yes.”
“Using my name.”
“Yes.”
Naomi continued.
“Peter kept emails.”
“Of course he did.”
One email from Judson read:
Run through MW corporate, clear when quarterly distribution hits.
Another:
Blythe has card details. Use same procedure.
Merritt stared at that sentence.
Blythe has card details.
Simple.
Casual.
Like a grocery list.
Another email made her chest tighten.
Need no trace past cycle close. MW cannot know or she’ll overreact.
Merritt laughed once.
“Overreact.”
Naomi watched her.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“That’s allowed.”
Merritt looked at the email again.
She had spent years wondering whether she imagined the family’s attitude toward her.
Too sensitive.
Too serious.
Too suspicious.
And here it was in writing.
Her father had anticipated her objections before committing the acts.
Then defined those objections as emotional excess.
It was gaslighting before discovery.
A defense prepared in advance.
Naomi’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She put the call on speaker.
Detective Brooks.
“We interviewed Sloan this morning,” Brooks said.
Merritt’s body tensed.
“She confessed?”
“She gave a full statement regarding the staircase contact.”
Merritt looked down.
Brooks continued.
“She also surrendered text messages relevant to the financial investigation.”
Naomi asked, “What texts?”
“Between Sloan and Judson.”
Brooks read one.
JUDSON: Keep Merritt away from the payment discussion. She thinks corporate rules are religion.
SLOAN: She’ll freak if she finds out.
JUDSON: She won’t find out.
Another:
SLOAN: What if the refinance doesn’t clear before her statement?
JUDSON: Then we handle Merritt.
Merritt looked at Naomi.
“Handle.”
Brooks said, “There’s more.”
JUDSON: If she makes noise, remind her how much this family has done for her.
Merritt felt her throat close.
Not because the sentence was surprising.
Because it was familiar.
Every favor had been stored as future leverage.
Every childhood sacrifice.
Every tuition payment.
Every family holiday.
Love kept as an account receivable.
Brooks continued.
“Sloan says she did not understand the corporate mechanics, but these texts establish that she knew Merritt did not consent to the wedding payment.”
Merritt closed her eyes.
Sloan had lied to her.
Again.
Not about everything.
But about enough.
She had claimed she thought Merritt agreed to help.
These messages showed she knew Merritt had not.
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The sisters had found one layer of truth.
Now another had opened beneath it.
