Chapter 8: Everything in the Box
The documents were organized.
That surprised me — Brian is not an organized man.
But these were in order, paper-clipped into sections, each one labeled in his handwriting.
Transfer records.
Account statements.
A copy of the incorporation documents for a holding company registered in Delaware that neither Brian nor I had ever heard of.
Emails printed and dated.
And at the back, a USB drive taped to a folded piece of paper.
Carol put on her reading glasses and started going through the transfer records without being asked.
I looked at the USB drive.
"What's on this?"
"Recordings," Brian said.
"Three phone calls between me and Dennis after I found out.
I started recording everything."
"Does he know?"
"No."
Carol set down the page she was reading.
"Brian.
This is enough.
This is more than enough." She looked at him over her glasses.
"Why are you still sitting on this?"
"Because Dennis said—"
"Dennis told you a story to keep you quiet.
That's what people do when they're cornered." She tapped the stack of papers.
"These transfers have his name on them.
The holding company is registered to a nominee he used twice before — I can see it in the structure.
The account with your name on it was opened six weeks after these transfers started, which means it was created to absorb blame, not to conduct business.
A forensic accountant wouldn't need a week."
Brian stared at her.
"You can see all that from—"
"I've been doing this for twenty-two years." She took her glasses off.
"The question isn't whether you have enough.
The question is why you waited."
He didn't answer.
I sat down across from him.
"Were you protecting him?"
"No."
"Were you protecting yourself?"
A long pause.
"I was protecting us.
I didn't know how far Dennis would go.
I still don't.
And Warren showing up at your office today—" He looked at me.
"That was a warning.
To me, through you."
"I know," I said.
"If I go to the authorities and Dennis decides to fight, he will make it look like I was involved.
He has the resources to do that.
He has lawyers I can't match."
"You have evidence he doesn't know you have," Carol said.
"I have evidence that could also be explained away if the right person spins it."
Carol looked at him steadily.
"Brian.
I know someone.
A forensic accountant who has worked with the FBI on financial fraud cases.
She's not cheap, but she's fast and she's thorough, and more importantly, she knows how to present this kind of evidence in a way that doesn't leave room for spin." She paused.
"But you have to decide tonight.
Because Warren coming to this house is the next step, and I don't think you want to be sitting on this when that happens."
Brian looked at the box.
At the documents spread across our kitchen table.
At me.
"Make the call," he said.
Carol picked up her phone.
I looked at my husband — really looked at him — and for the first time in two days I could see past the wall he'd built around all of this.
He was frightened.
He had been frightened for eight months, carrying something he didn't know how to put down.
That didn't make it right.
But I understood it.
"We're going to get through this," I said.
May you like
He nodded.
But his eyes were on the door.
