Chương 4
“Appears how?”
“Handwritten beside my father's initials.”
The room seemed to tilt slightly.
I pressed my palm against the floor.
“That can't be right.”
“Why?”
“Because your father didn't hire me.”
“Who did?”
“Human Resources.”
“You applied?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“How?”
“Online, like a normal person.”
“And before that?”
“What about before that?”
“Had you ever worked for Moretti Group?”
“No.”
“A subsidiary?”
“No.”
“Done contract work?”
“No.”
“Then why would my father personally flag your file?”
I looked down at the signed document.
There was an answer, but it belonged to a different year and a different version of me.
A version that still wore cheap black heels to meetings because I believed painful shoes made me look competent.
A version who had met Vincent Moretti in the conference room of a trucking company in Queens and thought the old man was simply another client with too much money and not enough patience.
“I met him once.”
Dominic's voice changed.
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
“Where?”
“Queens.”
“Why?”
“I was working for an accounting contractor.”
“What firm?”
“Dawson Pike.”
He went silent.
The name sounded worse spoken aloud.
Lily stopped playing with the rabbit.
Even she seemed to hear it.
Dominic said, “Pike?”
“Yes.”
“As in Elliot Pike?”
“His older brother owned the firm.”
“What was Elliot doing there?”
“Operations.”
“And you?”
“Junior forensic accounting.”
“That isn't on your Moretti résumé.”
“I left it off.”
“Why?”
I rubbed my thumb against the edge of Vincent's document.
“Because Dawson Pike collapsed.”
“I know.”
“Then you know there were investigations.”
“Fraud allegations.”
“Yes.”
“No charges against you.”
“That didn't matter much to recruiters.”
“So you erased three years.”
“I simplified.”
“You erased three years.”
“I needed a job.”
Dominic was quiet long enough that anger began replacing fear.
“You don't get to judge me for surviving your industry's hiring software.”
“I wasn't judging you.”
“It sounded very expensive and judgmental.”
“I was wondering whether Elliot knew who you were when you were hired.”
My anger vanished.
I stared at the wall.
“Of course he knew.”
“Did he?”
“He interviewed me.”
Dominic swore softly.
Lily looked at me.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing you need to repeat.”
She considered that.
“Was it the F word?”
“Lily.”
“Okay.”
I stood and carried the shoebox to the kitchen table.
The first returned envelope was dated November 14, eleven years earlier.
Three weeks after I had met Vincent.
“What did you find at Dawson Pike?” Dominic asked.
“You said you wanted to understand why I was hired.”
“I think it's the same question.”
I pulled out a chair.
“Dawson Pike handled reconciliation work for several Moretti transportation companies.”
“I know that.”
“They were moving expenses between entities.”
“What kind?”
“Fuel, maintenance, subcontracting.”
“Fraud?”
“At first I thought bad controls.”
“And then?”
I looked at Lily.
She had moved closer without my noticing.
“Sweetheart, go wash your hands.”
“They're clean.”
“Wash the clean ones.”
She made a face but went.
I waited until the bathroom door closed.
“Then I found duplicate vendor payments.”
Dominic said nothing.
“Not huge ones,” I continued.
“That was what made them hard to see.”
“Who was the vendor?”
“There were six.”
“Owned by?”
“Shell companies.”
“And behind them?”
“I never proved it.”
“Who did you suspect?”
I swallowed.
“Dawson Pike.”
“Elliot's brother.”
“Yes.”
“And my father?”
“He was being billed.”
“Not participating?”
“That was my conclusion.”
“Did you tell him?”
“I tried.”
The letters seemed suddenly heavier than paper.
“Dawson caught me printing reconciliations.”
“What happened?”
“He fired me.”
“And you contacted my father.”
“He came to me first.”
Dominic's voice sharpened.
“How?”
“A meeting.”
“Who arranged it?”
“Elliot.”
That silence was different.
I could almost hear him rearranging the facts.
“Elliot brought my father to you?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because at the time, I thought he was helping me.”
The bathroom faucet began running.
I lowered my voice.
“He told Vincent I'd found discrepancies.”
“And then?”
“Vincent asked everyone to leave.”
“Everyone including Elliot?”
“Yes.”
“What did my father say to you?”
I looked at the paper in my hand.
“He said I was either very brave or very stupid.”
“That sounds like him.”
“I told him those weren't mutually exclusive.”
“That also sounds like you.”
I ignored that.
“He asked what I needed to prove the accounts were false.”
“What did you say?”
“Access.”
“To Moretti records?”
“Yes.”
“Did he give it to you?”
“For forty-eight hours.”
I heard Dominic shift on the other end.
“That would have violated half our controls.”
“Your controls were considerably less impressive eleven years ago.”
“They aren't especially impressive today.”
That almost made me smile.
Almost.
“What happened after forty-eight hours?”
“I gave Vincent a preliminary report.”
“What was in it?”
“Enough for him to suspend three vendor contracts.”
“And Dawson?”
“He threatened to sue me.”
“For?”
“Taking confidential records.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he died six weeks later.”
Dominic's breath caught.
Dawson Pike's death had been ruled a heart attack.
He was forty-seven.
At the time, I'd been relieved the threats stopped.
I had hated myself for that relief afterward.
“And Elliot?” Dominic asked.
“He told me the matter was closed.”
“Did my father agree?”
“I never saw your father again.”
I picked up one of the returned envelopes.
“I wrote.”
“Twenty-seven times.”
“Yes.”
“Why so many?”
“Because things kept happening.”
“What things?”
The bathroom door opened.
Lily came out drying her hands on her shirt.
I stopped speaking.
Dominic heard the interruption.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“I already said no.”
“Not Moretti Plaza.”
“Where?”
“You choose.”
I looked around my kitchen, at the scratched table, the refrigerator covered with Lily's drawings, the stack of bills I hadn't opened because sometimes ignorance could purchase one more night's sleep.
A public place meant witnesses.
A public place also meant carrying eleven years of evidence through New York in a shoebox.
“No.”
“Anna.”
“I said no.”
“Then don't bring the letters.”
“That is not the problem.”
May you like
“What is?”
“You.”
