Her voice sounded familiar.
I studied her.
“Have we met?”
“At Elm Street Market.”
I remembered the young cashier who had watched me scan my ticket that morning.
The woman who had quietly told me to protect it.
“You sold me the lottery ticket.”
“Yes.”
“But you knew who I was before that.”
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
“Yes.”
Miriam gestured toward the chair.
“Let’s begin with how you know Mark Carter.”
Vanessa sat down.
“I worked for one of his companies.”
“Which company?”
“Carter Medical Transport.
I handled vendor records and billing reconciliation.”
“When?”
“Until six weeks ago.”
“Why did you leave?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Because I discovered that the company was charging people for services they never received.”
She opened her bag and removed a thin folder.
Inside were copies of invoices, payment schedules, and account summaries.
She pointed to several entries.
