Chapter 7: Brian Comes Home
Carol was at my house when Brian walked in at eight-forty.
I had told her everything on the drive over.
She sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea she wasn't drinking, and when the front door opened she didn't move.
Brian stopped in the doorway to the kitchen.
"Carol." His voice was flat.
"I didn't know you were coming."
"I invited her," I said.
He looked at me.
Then at the table.
Then back at me.
"Can we talk privately?"
"No."
He set his keys down.
Took off his jacket.
The movements were slow and deliberate, the way they get when he's deciding something.
"A man named Warren came to my office today," I said.
"He knew about the letter.
He said the timeline has moved up."
Brian's face didn't change.
That was its own answer.
"You knew he was coming."
"I didn't know he'd go to your office."
"But you knew who he was."
"Yes."
"And you know what he wants."
"Yes."
Carol set her cup down.
"Brian," she said, "I need you to understand something.
Whatever is in that wall, whatever is in that letter, my sister is now involved.
A man she doesn't know walked into her workplace and implied that she could face consequences for something you did.
So you are going to sit down and tell us exactly what is happening."
Brian looked at her for a long moment.
Then he pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Dennis has been skimming from the company for three years," he said.
"Not petty amounts.
Structured transfers, moved through a holding account he set up without my knowledge.
I found out eight months ago."
"The letter," I said.
"Dennis wrote it when I confronted him.
He was trying to frame it as something we did together.
To make it look mutual."
"Is it mutual?"
Brian's jaw tightened.
"No.
But two of the transfers went through an account with my name on it.
An account I didn't open.
By the time I found that, Dennis had already covered his tracks well enough that it would take a forensic accountant to prove the difference."
"So you hid the letter," Carol said.
"I hid everything I had.
The letter, the account records, the original transfer logs I pulled before Dennis could alter them.
I needed somewhere safe that wasn't a computer, wasn't a cloud account, wasn't anywhere Dennis could reach."
"And Warren?" I asked.
Brian looked at the table.
"Warren works for the people Dennis borrowed from.
Not a bank."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"How much does Dennis owe them?" Carol asked.
"More than the four-thirty.
That was just what moved through our company.
There's more."
I looked at my husband.
"Brian.
Why didn't you go to the police eight months ago?"
He looked up.
"Because Dennis told me if I did, he'd make sure I went down with him.
And I believed him."
Carol and I looked at each other.
"The documents in that box," I said.
"Are they enough to prove it was Dennis?"
"If a forensic accountant looked at them — yes.
But I needed time to find someone I could trust."
"You've had eight months."
"I know."
I stood up.
"Where is the box now?"
He reached into his jacket pocket and set it on the table.
The grey steel box, combination lock facing up.
"I moved it when you went upstairs last night.
I was going to put it back, but then Warren—" He stopped.
"I didn't know what to do."
I looked at the box.
Then at my husband.
May you like
"Open it."
He did.
