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She straightens her shoulders and obeys, sitting, then opening her briefcase. She pulls several manilla folders out, then lays half a dozen highlighted spreadsheets on the wood.
I hold my breath, wondering what the highlights mean.
She hesitates, then locks eyes with me. "These accounts all have money missing. There are transfers throughout the last few years that tally over one hundred million dollars."
I grind my molars, trying to calm my rage. Quite a bit of time passes before I can muster, "Where is the money going?"
Sympathy fills her expression, and I hate it. She answers, "Some offshore accounts in the Caymans."
"Is it George?" I question.
She shrugs. "Him. Or Hugh. But I have a hard time believing Hugh could do it without George. My guess is the accounts are layered so they're untraceable."
Bile rises in my throat. I swallow it and stare through the glass, watching the waves crash and white foam hit the shoreline.
He stole from me.
He stole from our clients.
Rachel clears her throat and sets another piece of paper in front of me. "I've made a summary so you can turn it over to the FBI."
I glance at the cheat sheet, my stomach diving further. The FBI will have to call in the SEC. The investment firm I've spent my life creating will have a stain on it forever. Trust will be lost, and that's hard to earn back.
I firmly state, "I'm not calling the FBI."
Rachel furrows her eyebrows. "But—"
"I'll handle it. As always, you're under a strict confidentiality clause," I assert.
Her eyes turn to slits. Irritation fills her voice, and she seethes, "You don't need to remind me."
I ignore that I just offended her and inquire, "Is there anything else I should know?"
Her jaw twitches. She rises, slings her briefcase over her shoulder, and dryly answers, "No, boss."
I don't miss the attitude. It's the first time I've ever heard it from her, but her feelings are the last things I'm worrying about right now. I've got bigger problems. She can put on her big girl panties and deal with my usual bluntness or cry like a baby. Either way, I don't care. I walk toward the entrance, and she follows. I open the door and state, "Thanks for bringing this to my attention."
She crosses her arms and glares at me.
I wait her out, giving her my most challenging stare. The last thing I'm going to be is intimidated by my employees.
She finally asserts, "A little kindness would go a long way."
I keep my tone flat and reply, "I'm sorry. Did I hire you to be friends?"
She glares at me.
"Well?" I push.
"No," she answers.
"That's right. I hired you because you're the best accountant I know. And I appreciate you for your talent. That's also why I pay you what I do and give you huge bonuses. Have I upheld my end of the deal?" I arch my eyebrows.
Her face hardens. "Yes."
I nod. "Good. You've always upheld yours as well. Now, is there anything else we need to discuss?"
She leers at me another moment, then steps outside. I wait until she's next to her car, then close the door.
