Chương 12
She sounded older than Scott, maybe early fifties, with a voice that carried the exhaustion of someone who had rehearsed this call too many times.
“How did you get my number?”
“Your mother gave it to me years ago.”
“Why?”
“You called the office once about a tuition reimbursement.”
I did not remember that.
“She told me if you ever called again, I should route you directly to her.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why did you keep the transfer form?”
Another silence.
“Because I thought I might need it.”
“For yourself?”
“Yes.”
“At my expense?”
The question came out sharper than I intended.
Denise did not defend herself.
“Yes.”
Riley’s eyes lifted.
I gripped the edge of the table.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I was handling reconciliations when the trust money came in.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-two thousand four hundred and eighteen dollars.”
Not forty.
Some had apparently been used.
Or moved.
Or lost.
My throat tightened.
“Why did it go to Dad’s company?”
“I was told it was a capital contribution.”
“From me?”
“Yes.”
“I never made one.”
“I understand that now.”
“Now?”
Her breathing shifted near the phone.
“Amber, I was not a hero in this.”
At least she was not trying to become one retroactively.
“Your father brought me the authorization.”
“He said I signed it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I believed the signature was yours.”
“Did Mom bring the document?”
“No.”
“But you said she asked you to destroy it.”
“That came later.”
Riley leaned closer.
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Why?”
I asked.
“Your father had started restructuring the companies.”
“Meaning?”
“Moving ownership interests, refinancing debt, closing old entities, opening new ones.”
“Is that legal?”
“Some of it.”
The answer carried more meaning than the words.
“What part wasn’t?”
“I can’t tell you what a prosecutor would call anything.”
“I’m not asking a prosecutor.”
“I’m still not going to make claims I can’t prove.”
Maya would have approved.
I found that irritating.
“Fine.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“Why did Mom want this destroyed?”
“Because the transfer came from an account with your name on it.”
“That seems like the point.”
“The company records treated the money as if it came from Jason personally.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“The ledger entry was changed.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You handled accounting.”
“I did not have exclusive access.”
The defensiveness arrived quickly.
Then Denise sighed.
“Sorry.”
“Did you change it?”
“No.”
“Did you know it was changed?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Months later.”
“And you stayed.”
“Yes.”
The word was small.
No explanation followed.
I could hear a refrigerator humming on her end.
Somewhere behind her, a dog barked once.
Real life.
Again.
People did terrible things and then fed pets and took out trash and scheduled dentist appointments.
“What else did you keep?”
I asked.
Denise went quiet.
“Some emails.”
“How many?”
“Enough.”
“Send them to me.”
“No.”
Anger flashed hot and immediate.
“Why not?”
“Because I want to speak to a lawyer first.”
“This is my name.”
“I know.”
“My money.”
“I know.”
“My parents used me.”
“I know.”
“And you’re protecting yourself.”
“Yes.”
At least she said it.
Riley watched me carefully.
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Who told you to contact me?”
“No one.”
“Then why now?”
“Jason called me this morning.”
My hand dropped.
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether I had retained old company records.”
“And?”
“I told him no.”
“Was that true?”
“No.”
“What did he say after that?”
“He reminded me that my severance agreement included confidentiality provisions.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
“What does indirectly look like with my father?”
Denise was silent long enough that I almost laughed.
Finally she said, “He asked how my son was doing at Northwestern.”
Riley’s face changed.
“That’s a threat.”
“Maybe.”
Denise sounded tired.
“He knows my son attends Northwestern because the company sponsored a scholarship event two years ago.”
“What does your son have to do with anything?”
“Nothing.”
“Exactly.”
Denise exhaled.
“That’s why I contacted you.”
I looked at the transfer form again.
The signature at the bottom looked like mine from college.
The loop.
The slant.
The shape of the A.
“How did my mother ask you to destroy the copy?”
“Phone call.”
“No email?”
“No.”
“Did she say why?”
“She said Jason was cleaning up old files and didn’t want confidential family documents sitting in company archives.”
“Did that sound normal?”
“At the time?”
“Yes.
“No.”
Denise corrected herself almost immediately.
“It sounded convenient.”
I heard paper moving.
“I had already started copying things by then.”
“What made you suspicious?”
“The Mercer project.”
My chest tightened.
“What about it?”
“Your name appeared in the capitalization file.”
“How?”
“As an investor.”
I stood.
Riley mouthed, What?
I held up a finger.
“How much did I supposedly invest?”
“Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
I laughed once because my brain had nowhere else to put the absurdity.
“I had two hundred dollars yesterday.”
Denise said nothing.
“What was the source of the investment?”
“According to the file, proceeds from a brokerage account.”
“I don’t have one.”
“I know that now.”
“There’s that word again.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop being sorry and tell me what happened.”
My voice rose.
Winston lifted his head from the rug.
Denise responded quietly.
“The investor schedule showed your contribution.”
“Did cash actually come in?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“An account controlled by one of Jason’s other entities.”
“So he moved his own money and called it mine?”
“I can’t say whose money it originally was.”
“But it wasn’t from me.”
“Not from any account in your name that I could see.”
My knees weakened.
I sat again.
“Why would he do that?”
“Lenders like outside equity.”
“Outside?”
“You were represented as separate from the sponsor.”
“That sounds technical.”
“It is.”
“Make it not technical.”
Denise paused.
“Your father wanted the deal to look like more independent money was invested than actually was.”
I looked at Riley.
She understood enough.
“So he made me look rich.”
May you like
“Yes.”
“And independent.”
