Page 22 of This Could Be Us
“You can’t know—”
“I’m a forensic accountant. A damn good one, so yes, I can know.”
“And how exactly do you think Edward stole all that money?”
“The White Glove program. He was invoicing customers more for their annual fees than he was recording in CalPot’s books.”
My heartbeat stutters. “I don’t… I don’t understand.” I link my hands behind my head to keep them from trembling. “How is that even possible?”
“So many cases of embezzlement happen because a company trusts one person too much and gives them too much leeway. Edward had too much autonomy and very little oversight. That was a red flag for me before I even met him. And after I met him…”
He lifts his brows and allows a mocking tilt to his lips. “Let’s just say meeting him only increased my suspicion.”
“Why?”
“He’s arrogant, entitled, and thinks, mistakenly I might add, that his shit doesn’t stink. He doesn’t have the competence to back up his confidence. Guys like that often look for shortcuts to excel since they don’t have the actual work ethic to achieve. It’s the here-and-there kind of theft employees often get away with for a long time. Some never get caught. In addition to the surplus Edward collected from annual fees, he also held those retreats twice a year. When I dug into the expenses, they were higher than they should have been. I checked with hotels and airlines and several vendors to find original receipts, which showed a pattern of them charging us less than we paid. Edward had complete control, and the amounts were sometimes so small most wouldn’t even notice.”
“But you’re not most, huh?” I don’t know if my words are accusing or admiring.
“You asked how I thought Edward pulled it off and I’m telling you.”
I run a weary hand over my face, glancing through the window to our back lawn with the firepit and bright green grass that have earned us yard of the month more than once. “I… I need to talk to my husband. I need to hear from him. To… I just need to talk to him.”
“He hasn’t called?” Judah asks with a frown.
“Well, he’s a little busy fighting for his life. I’m sure he’ll get around to it as soon as he’s all done with that.”
Judah levels an exasperated look at me. “I didn’t make this up out ofthin air. The evidence is there. We just need more of it. I don’t actually give a fuck what happens to Edward because he deserves these consequences. I’m here because you and your daughters don’t.”
Our eyes lock, and that same breathless, dizzy feeling assaults me, the one I couldn’t seem to escape at the Christmas party.
“I promise this is the first I’ve heard about any of this.” Frustrated anger makes my voice shake, and I steady myself before going on. “I can’t help them. Hell, I can barely help myself right now.”
He sends me a frown, his eyes alert. “What does that mean?”
“Our assets have been frozen. My kids’ tuition payment bounced. None of my cards work.” I pick up the wadded pink slip of paper and hold it out like it’s evidence. “I can’t even buy groceries.”
“I knew your accounts were frozen. That’s by court order,” he says, confusion settling on his face. “Pretty standard, but the court should also assign a trustee to your family to help cover some basic needs, like food. Especially in situations involving kids, the court tries to avoid traumatizing them as much as possible.”
“Oh, yeah, because it wasn’t traumatizing at all seeing their father dragged off in cuffs,” I snap. “And I haven’t heard anything about a trustee or food.”
“It can take a few days to get it all sorted. Your lawyer hasn’t told you this stuff?”
“You mean Edward’s lawyer,” I scoff, nearly choking on my reply. “I’ve heard very little from him and not at all from…”
I let that thought die, not wanting to admit how in the dark I am. How in the dark Edward haskeptme. I drop the list back on the table and turn my back on Judah, holding on to my composure with slippery hands. I cover my face for just a few seconds, determined not to cry in front of this man.
“Hey.” He touches my shoulder and I jerk, startled by his gentleness. “Look at me.”
I slowly turn, hoping my nose isn’t red like it usually gets when I’m on the verge of crying. His eyes drop immediately to my nose.
Damn. It’s red. I just know it.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says.
“Oh, I’m not falling for that.” I let out a caustic laugh. “That’s the line I’ve been feeding the girls all day, and I have absolutely no idea how itwillbe okay.”
“You’re telling them things will work out, and you have no idea how, but you’ll do everything in your power to make sure they’ll be taken care of. It’s called parenting.” He pauses, squeezing my shoulder. “Or friendship.”