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“I’d like to think I could have caught this before it got to this point, but we can’t make assumptions. You don’t think you’re reaching?”
He shakes his shaved head. “No. Who was assigning your projects and managing your schedule in the months leading up to all this shit going south?”
“Cynthia.”
Punk looks at me, deadpan. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“There’s no way. Cynthia relied on me to keep her daily schedule organized, something minor compared to an enormous embezzlement operation.”
“You’re too close to the source, Simone. Think bigger. Cynthia may not be as sharp as you or any of the other tools in this place, but she didn’t get into her position being dumb.”
How do I say this without sounding like a bitter ex-girlfriend? I sit back in my seat, folding my hands in my lap. “You’re giving her way more credit than she deserves.”
Punk pulls out the chair next to me to get on my level. “Think about it, Priss. Cynthia controlled what projects you worked on, thus controlling what you had your eyes on. She was filling your schedule to the max for well over a year to set up the perfect opportunity for her to muck up the numbers between the digital and hard copies. When you were too preoccupied, she used it to her advantage.”
“Okay,” I say, entertaining his idea. “But there’s a hole in your theory. At some point, I would have caught all this.”
Punk gives me a sly smirk. “True. That’s why she needed to cause you to leave the firm.”
My stomach dips. I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. “The affair.”
“Catching your boyfriend bonking your boss would be a surefire way to get you out of the picture.”
My head is racing, trying to tie off all the loopholes for a solid case. “The only problem with your hypothesis is, neither Cynthia nor Trent knew I was returning when I did. I was flying home early to surprise Trent for his birthday, since I finished on a client’s case ahead of deadline.”
“Did you use the company credit card when scheduling your flight home?”
“Yes,” I admit as the puzzle pieces click into place. I run a shaky hand through my hair. “Large purchases would need a manager’s approval. Cynthia would’ve had to sign off on it. Do you think she was monitoring when I was heading home to orchestrate me walking in on them?”
Punk leans back in his seat, scratching his head. “If she was trying to sabotage your relationship to run you off, yeah, it makes perfect sense.”
“But why stay with Trent after the fact?”
“Who the fuck knows?” he says, throwing his hands in the air. He’s had enough of my combativeness in his theory. “Maybe she developed genuine feelings for the Oompa Loompa and hung on to him. It doesn’t matter. We have a lead, and we need to follow it.”
He pulls out his cell, calling Chase. “The hound is in pursuit of the fox.”
I cut my eyes to Punk, my temper rising. “Am I the dog in your reference?”
Punk ignores me as Chase rambles something quickly on the other line. He hands his cell to me.
“Chase?”
“Numbers,” he whispers.
“Where are you? Is Trent with you? We shouldn’t be discussing anything if he’s within earshot.”
“I’m alone in the men’s restroom. Who do you suspect it is?”
“It’s more Punk than me, but it has merit.” I quickly fill Chase in on my and Punk’s discussion.
Chase is quiet through my explanation. He then clears his throat and says, “Listen carefully, Numbers. We don’t have a lot of time. Are all the questioning files you’ve come across scanned into your new laptop?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Put all the hard copies away—now.”
I look at my neatly organized piles of tampered files. “But—”
