Chasing Frost by Isabel Jolie

Twenty-One

Chase

“Good morning, Sunshine!” Rhonda flashes her pearly whites and follows me into my office with a steaming cup of joe.

“Wow. What a difference a weekend can make.” My assistant extraordinaire places the BB&E branded mug on my desk and takes a step back, dramatically looking me up and down.

I glance down. I’m wearing my green hedgehog shirt. Hedgehogs. Why can’t they just share the hedge? It’s not stained.

“What?”

“Friday when you left, you looked like you were about to have to let ten percent of the department go, and this morning you look like you’re going to announce raises.” She grins, and I know that grin that’s spreading across her face. It’s the one that says something happened and I want to know all about it. “You and Sydney? This weekend?” She’s shaking her head up and down, grinning like a banshee.

Now, if Rhonda were a dude, I might be willing to share. I’ve been known to let it rip about one or two sexcapades in the past. But it’s not like I’m gonna spill to Rhonda.

I wave my hand in the air, signaling for her to get out as I bring my laptop to life.

“Oh, no. I’m not leaving. You’ve gotta give me something. Are you guys together now? Did it happen during the wedding? I swear, weddings are the best place for hookups.”

“Rhonda, I—”

Tap, tap, tap.

Rhonda and I both look to the doorway. Evan fills the entrance, but I can see Tom behind him in the hall.

“Tom and I are heading over to Berkley’s Diner for breakfast. You free to join us?”

“Of course. I’ve got to be back by ten.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. We don’t have long.”

Berkley’s Diner is a joint across the street that specializes in greasy griddle food. It’s my go-to place when I’m hungover. Lots of BB&E employees go, but it’s after nine, so there won’t be many employees there now. I have an idea what they want to talk about, and it’s probably best no one overhears.

I grab my backpack, which has my folders and notes still in it, toss it over my shoulder, and follow the bosses out. So much for my great morning, because following the two suits to the elevator sure does blow all the shit going on all over me. It feels like I’m the zookeeper who just got blasted by the elephant.

Rhonda tugs on my elbow as I pass her cubicle. “When you get back…” She wiggles her eyebrows and beams like a gossipy teenager.

Tom Bennett glances back at us. The guy definitely heard her. Smooth, Rhonda.

Tom and Evan lead the way to the diner, side by side. They’re both easily half a foot taller than I am, and I can’t help but feel a bit like the kid following the two adults. They’re each wearing custom made suits, sporting expensive-ass watches, and wearing shoes I know damn well hurt their feet. I’m wearing somewhat wrinkled khakis because the wash and fold on my block is, by some standards, subpar, running shoes, and a sports jacket I snatched up off the rack on sale for three hundred bucks. Sometimes I think I should invest in my wardrobe, but then I remember the guys who spend thousands on a suit are often pretty much pricks.

The two of them lead the way down the narrow aisle, past the bar with shiny aluminum stools, all the way to the last booth along the wall of windows. The two of them slide into one side, leaving the other side open for me. There’s a giant rip in the middle of the pleather, so I sit to one side in the booth and cover the unsightly jagged foam with my backpack.

We all order coffee and an omelet with hash browns. The hash browns here are around twelve hundred calories per order but so fucking worth it. I order mine with cheese.

No one else occupies a booth, and there’s one old guy sitting at the far end of the bar sipping on coffee and eating pancakes swimming in syrup. The waitress leaves, and Evan glances behind him. It’s only restrooms back there. He’s not wearing a hat, but he should be wearing a fedora and trench coat the way he’s posturing and looking all secretive. But, to be fair, this is some serious shit.

A television set playing on the wall behind their heads shows Senator McLoughlin speaking at a news conference. The subtext scrolls, and he’s talking about healthcare. One more bill the senate struck down because ultimately it would hurt insurance companies.

The waitress returns to our booth with the coffee and fills our mugs. An awkward silence fills the table. Evan and Tom both stare. At me.

After the waitress is back in the kitchen, Tom leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “We’ve worked all weekend on this. Since you’re the one who brought it to us, we wanted to fill you in. Evan and I are flying out to Chicago to meet with executives from South Fork to bring them up to speed. We’ll explain to them what’s happened.”

“You know chances are they are in on it, right? Possibly paying Garrick?” Tom lifts his arms and rests his forearms in an identical position to Evan, only his fingers wrap tightly around the base of a fork. “I’m not trying to make you angry. I know you go way back with them, but it’s inconceivable they didn’t know revenues were inflated.”

“Do you have any idea what’s it like to run a business? CEOs don’t sit there calculating each sale. We look at spreadsheets. We trust the numbers put before us.”

I shift, spreading my arm across the back of the bench. Tom is one pissed off man.

“Maybe you’re correct.” I placate him. “But what if I am? What are you going to do then?”

“That’s not for us to decide. Our responsibility is to provide corrected financials and to notify the client. At this point, it is not a criminal investigation.” Evan’s deep voice has a commanding edge to it, and he looks back and forth between Tom and me as if he’s waiting to see if one of us will argue, waiting to see who he needs to pummel.

The waitress arrives with our food, and Tom and Evan both back off the table, unroll the paper napkin tightly rolled around their utensils, and place it in their laps. Their movement appears coordinated, and it’s almost comical.

I focus on my fiduciary responsibility. “I’ll provide you the corrected P&L, and corrected earnings statements. The correction will be based on the original data we received from South Fork, but you need to realize a full audit must occur. We have clear evidence information was altered by a BB&E employee, but I have no way of knowing if what they’ve been sharing with us all along is correct. You get that, right?”

“I’ve known the founders of South Fork, John and Eileen, since college. We both have. They aren’t criminals.” Tom grits his teeth and adjusts his spectacles, pushing them farther up the bridge of his nose. “The point is, by the middle of the week, we’ll have answers about how South Fork wants to handle this. We’ll follow their lead, but we also are following the letter of the law. We meet with our General Counsel before getting on a plane this afternoon. He’s had the whole legal department outlining exactly what we need to do in order to meet our fiduciary obligations.”

“I’ll get everything to you by Wednesday.” Tom gives a short nod. “And I’ll also have a notarized letter documenting what I found.”

“Are you receiving legal advice?” Tom’s face contorts as he asks the question. His hands are under the table, but I’d bet dollars to doughnuts those hands are balled in angry fists.

“Yes.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone.” Evan sounds shocked, but it’s the way he cowers under Tom’s glare that’s noteworthy. It’s pretty clear who’s the alpha at this table. And it is not my man Evan Mitchell.

Tom shoves the table an inch my way, then rests his forearms on the surface, his tight fists hovering over his plate. “Who all have you told? Does Rhonda know? Anyone else on your team?”

“Evan asked me not to tell anyone. I haven’t.”

“Except your lawyer?” Evan questions.

I nod.

“No friends?” Tom doesn’t believe me. It’s clear he’s done with this conversation when he pulls out his wallet and lays cash on the table.

“I know it’s a serious situation. I told my lawyer for personal protection. It’s going to get ugly. You know it. I know it. Believe it or not, this isn’t a fun topic to laugh about with my friends. I am taking this seriously. And I’m glad to see the two of you are, too. I’ll be interested in hearing how John and Eileen take the news.”

It’s going to blow the acquisition right off the table, an acquisition that, if the papers are right, would make each of them very wealthy. These two are fools to think John and Eileen are innocent. But here’s the thing, and the real reason I brought in my own law firm. Chances are Tom and Evan are in on in it too, and I’ll be damned if I’m going down as the patsy.

Tom rubs the side of his head, and it’s like he’s giving his right eye a massage as he does so. Yeah, I’d imagine he could easily have a migraine. The tension radiating between all of us is bringing on my own headache.

“Who’s your lawyer?”

I’m using my buddy Jackson’s law firm. Well, his old law firm, the one where he worked before he went over as a partner in a VC firm. It took him all of three minutes listening to me before he told me I needed the best, and he hooked me up. Not that I’m about to share any of that with these two.

“You’ve probably never heard of him.”

“Give me the name.”

I glare at him. Two can glare. For good measure, I rest my fist on the table.

“I want all the information before we fly out to Chicago.” Tom sounds defeated.

“Dan Brown.” Yeah, it’s clear from the look he’s giving me he recognizes the name. Whatever. It’s the first name that popped in my head. I toss my used napkin on the plate. “Told you you wouldn’t’ve heard of him. He’s a buddy of mine.”

The walk back to the office is ice cold, and not because of the outside temperature.