“Mr. Donnelly.”
Something in her face had changed.
“We found where the charity money went.”
“Where?”
“Into a consulting company.”
“Whose?”
She handed me a printout.
The company name meant nothing.
Hearthstone Hospitality Advisors LLC.
Then I saw the registered agent.
My stomach dropped.
It wasn’t Kyle.
It wasn’t Nina.
It wasn’t Mason.
The registered agent was my business accountant.
A man who had handled Rosie’s books for fourteen years.
My oldest friend.
David Mercer.
