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“This is Paige Levine,” I answered.
“Hello, Miss Levine. This is Eric Adams.”
I stopped dead in my tracks as shock and panic set in. It took two failed attempts at speaking before I finally got out words.
“Eric Adams, as in, the New York attorney general?”
“Yes. I was hoping you could come meet with me.”
I wanted to ask what this was all about but was certain he wouldn’t tell me over the phone, nor would it make a difference. If the attorney general called, you went.
“I’m leaving tomorrow for a business trip,” I said. “Perhaps we can schedule something for when I return.”
“Are you free tonight?” he countered. “I’d really like to speak with you in person Miss Levine, and time is of the essence.”
I absently palmed my throat. This was about the scandal. It had to be. And if the attorney general was involved, my guess was it had to do more with the missing money and less with the sex scandal. Whatever Bill had done, it was getting even messier and the big guys were now in play.
“I can meet you tonight,” I said.
“Great, why don’t you come by my office—”
“Do you mind if we meet at Jay’s Café on First Street?” I said quickly. It was quiet and public, but didn’t garner press. The thought of going to the capitol didn’t sound like a good idea.
“If that’s what you prefer, Miss Levine. Can you be there in an hour?”
I glanced at my tablet. Leo was done with his meetings, and the work day was basically over.
“Yes.”
“Great, see you then.”
The phone line went dead, but I just looked at my cell as if it could somehow provide answers. Because all I knew was that I was about to meet a powerful man of New York and shit was going to go down.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Levine,” Eric said as I slid into the corner booth and looked at him from across the table. “Would you like something to eat? Drink?”
“No, thank you,” I said, and threaded my fingers together on the tabletop. “Can you tell me what this is about, please?”
I had taken the past hour to practice my calm voice and prepare myself for anything. Eric sighed and opened a large folder containing a stack of papers.
“I have a few questions for you, but before we get started, I want to remind you this is confidential.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
He picked up a couple receipts from the top of the pile and handed them to me. “We are investigating Bill Vorse. These are some receipts we collected from his office.”
The receipts were for extravagant dinners, women’s retail, and other expenses that looked to have nothing to do with the state of New York or campaigning. But what was most shocking was when I flipped them over and saw that Bill had written my name on the back, as if I were the one he’d used the money on.
My eyes snapped up and met the attorney general’s. “You’re building a case against Bill, aren’t you?”
“I can’t go into details about that, but a lot of money is missing and we are going through all the expenses. I need to know if these receipts are valid.”
“I wasn’t there,” I said, pointing to the one receipt for a late-night dinner.
“Do you have proof of that?”
Scorching terror shot through my veins, replacing all my blood. I was organized and kept track of my schedule, and proof would be perfect right about now. Then it hit me.
“You know, I just may have proof.”
