Page 6 of Bobby

“I want everything on Spencer Folly, and you don’t have two hours. You have one,” I say to Marco as we step into the elevator. He already has his phone out, typing to do what I asked before I even voiced it.

“Yes, sir. Already on it.”

Guess coming in today wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Chapter 3—Willow

When I was working, I didn’t have time to freak out about meeting with the boss one-on-one. But the second I step onto the elevator and my badge grants me access to the top floor, the nerves start to eat at me.

I’ve never been up here before. There was never a need to. The interviews were on the fifth floor, and the seventh was the highest I’ve ever been. Until today.

The elevator doors open, and I take a deep breath before I exit. There are so many windows on one side and office doors on the other. And at the end of the hall is Mr. Leone’s… bodyguard? Assistant? I don’t know what he does, but he carries himself as if he’s five seconds from pulling a gun on anyone who looks at him the wrong way.

He nods at me when I get close and doesn’t say anything when I stand outside Mr. Leone’s door for a solid three minutes without knocking, just staring at the hardwood door. Three solid minutes that take me from complete freak-out to steadying my nerves enough to announce myself with a small knock. One that Mr. Leone answers immediately with a deep voice that resonates through the closed door.

“Come in.”

I quickly open his door and enter, closing it behind me with a soft click. His office is spacious and exactly what I would expect for someone who runs a multimillion-dollar business without blinking an eye. A large desk, a few chairs, and a ton of bookshelves, but none of them tall enough to block his view. The only wall without windows is the one with the door. Everything else offers a complete view of the city, but with a film on the windows to prevent feeling the heat of the sun. I bet on foggy days, he doesn’t even see the ground.

I’ve never feared heights, but I get an uneasy feeling near the windows. This isn’t the tallest building in the city, but it’s tall enough for me to worry.

“Here you go.” I hand him the paper copies I printed, which took some time, but he doesn’t seem to mind that I’m eight minutes late for our meeting. He might not have set a strict deadline, but I did. I don’t like to miscalculate things—even time. Everything is down to a science in my head to stay on schedule. “I also put the files on the shared drive and can give you the direct link if you want to access them that way.”

“Thank you, Ms. Frazzer.” He stands and walks around the desk as he gestures to the round conference table off to the side. “Please have a seat.” He pulls out a chair for me, and I take it without thinking.

“Thank you.” I wait half a second for him to sit before I talk. In that time, I file away that he took off his suit jacket, and the black shirt tugs around his arms when he pulls out his own chair and sits.

“Here’s the Chandler file, and this one is the Myers.” I separate the two and move the Chandler file in front of him. “As you can see, I’ve highlighted in yellow the inconsistencies under a thousand, marked those under ten thousand in green, and anything higher in red. I kept it to a three-color-coded system, but if you would prefer to do another code, I can do so on the electronic copy.”

I put my laptop on the table and open it up, pulling up the file as I speak.

“Did you discover this, or were you alerted to it?” he asks as he briefly scans the papers before him.

“I was alerted to another issue that my cubicle mate, Missy, found in some duplicated fees at the end of the file.” I reach over and flick through the pages to show him what I’m talking about. “It seems it was just a copy of what appeared on page five.” I flip to page five, and he nods in agreement. “I didn’t want to just delete the page assuming it was the same, so I went through it all with what was expected in the official Chandler file we keep for the owner and found these inconsistencies.”

The owner file is one we send to the client—Maxine Chandler in this case. A middle-aged, mildly wealthy widow in Illinois who has been using our services. The company manages a sizable portfolio, enough to support about ten thousand investors.

The working file is internal, where we verify everything before updating the official version. We usually just work on one page at a time, adding to both the working file and the owner file once the working one is complete. But in this case, there were over ten years of work to review. And over $175,000 in inconsistencies.

He hums as he spends some time looking over the file, and I check the time on my laptop.

“What about the Myers file? The same or different?”

I push it to him. “The same, except for the final amount.” I go to the last page and point to the amount I concluded was lost. Almost double the first one.

Another noncommittal noise from him before another round of flipping through the pages. I glance at the time again.

“Thank you for this.”

I nod as I look back at him, and he looks at me. “Please know you’ll be compensated for this. Now, let’s start at the beginning and go line by line.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I need to go.”

“To where?”

“The subway. My kids are with a sitter who’s only free until five.”

He checks the clock. “It’s three thirty now.”