I PULL MY BACK AWAYfrom the cold metal and perch on the edge of the folding chair. What if someone has actually committed fraud and set me up to take the fall? But why? There’s no reason to take me or the new ETFs down. We’ve been so successful. Maybe the answer hides in our achievement. Could it be someone from outside the firm? A competitor? But they’d never have access.
The picture of Candace at the bell ringing pops to mind. She certainly has access, but it makes no sense that she, or Lucas, or even Meymack would want to see Garman Straub fail.
But would they want to see me fail?
Reid is still head down, but now another kid from his team, a small girl with braids the color of fresh habaneros, has pulled up a chair next to him and is also attacking her laptop. Reid takes notice and says something to her. She points to her screen, and he drags his chair around to sit close. Must be Bobby. I know the otherprogrammer is new, quite brilliant, and has shockingly red hair. But I thought Bobby was a boy.
Reid must have wanted us to think so too.
No longer able to see either of their keen faces, I stare back down at my phone. Secrets are killing me. I make the call.
“Glad you rang. Some weirdness.” Alyssa’s voice is low, like she’s someplace she doesn’t want to be overheard.
“Tell me.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own.
“I think we may be acting as our own lending agent. Like perhaps someone at Garman Straub is negotiating directly with borrowers.” Her words tumble out quickly over the line.
“Do you know who?” I ask.
“No. But based on some analysis, I think the rates may be quite favorable.”
“Why would anyone cheat the funds?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.
“Maybe there’s another way we’re being paid.”
“Like an illegal side deal or kickback?” As soon as I say the words, I want to claw them back. “What do you know about the borrower?”
“Enjoying your time away?” Alyssa’s tone changes, all fake cheer. “I hope you’re able to get in some good walks.”
“Can’t talk?”
“Not yet but hoping to. Thanks for encouraging me to enjoy what will be a beautiful weekend. I’m planning on leaving a little early today.”
I rarely say anything about anyone taking time. Being surrounded by professionals makes it easy to rely on them to set their own hours. If they need to cut out, I don’t micromanage. Of course, it usually has the opposite effect, and we all work late.
“Good. You should leave early.”
“I’m on it.”
“You’re leaving now?” I pull the phone away and check the time. It’s ten minutes after eleven.
“I know, Mom. I heard back from Aunt May. I hadn’t realized she’d switched retirement homes down in Florida.” Her pattern of speech slows as if she is plucking each word from a list. “The return address was new, but she hadn’t mentioned anything in her letter.”
A man’s voice says something about Hardwin needing her in his office.
My heart pounds in my chest. “Just leave, Alyssa. Follow your gut. I think—”
“Look, Mom, I got to go. Oh, and Aunt Mackie wants to borrow your rose dishes. Love you.”
The call ends.
I quickly flip to my Notes app and jot down what she said.
Aunt May
Retirement home in Florida
New return address
