Private Player

“Maybe he’s in trouble. Maybe he’s laundering money for some kind of drug cartel,” she said.

“We’re hearing hoofbeats. We should assume horses, not zebras.”

Audrey picked up her cup again. “What are you talking about?”

“You know—don’t assume some kind of rare diagnosis when the most obvious one is the most likely.”

She rolled her eyes. “You should have been a doctor.”

There was more than a splash of irony in Mark’s wife saying so, when Mark himself was the reason I wasn’t a doctor.

“It could be anything. But a mysterious amount of cash in an offshore account when Mark has access to this kind of money?” I closed my eyes and tried to come up with explanations that weren’t rooted in dishonesty. “The only thing I can think of that might be close to legitimate is if he was holding that money for someone else. But if he was, he would likely be hiding it for someone who wasn’t legitimate, so I’m not sure that makes it okay exactly. He’s probably still doing something criminal. Can you try to see if you can get statements? Then you can see the money coming in and where it’s from.”

She nodded. “I can try. And when I do, then what?”

Then we needed to figure out how deep Audrey was wrapped up in this, regardless of whether she’d intentionally participated in her husband’s crimes. But I didn’t want to scare her. “Let’s just take it one step at a time. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

She sighed and nodded. “We need a place to meet. I think Mark bought the whole I-just-bumped-into-you-when-I-was-out-with-the-girls excuse, but if it happens again and it’s in the papers, he’s going to think we’re having an affair.”

“I think it’s okay as long as we don’t meet at night again,” I said. The pictures had been brutal. The share price had slumped this morning. I’d told the chairman about the article in the Post and it had seemed to placate him, but image rehab wouldn’t work if I stepped even a toe out of line. Audrey was right. We needed a new place to meet. “We can speak on the phone mainly. Just focus on getting copies of stuff. Set up a safety deposit box and store them there.”

Her coffee cup clunked as she put it down a little too heavily. “You really think a safety deposit box is necessary? I’m not Jason Bourne.”

“No, but the last thing you want to happen is for him to find a bunch of printouts and start asking questions.” I’d never known Mark to be a violent man, but then again, I didn’t think he was capable of a hundred-million-dollar fraud either.

She nodded. “You’re right. I’ll do that tomorrow.”

“I really have to go,” I said. I’d already missed one meeting to be here. And I didn’t want Madison Shore thinking I was ignoring her even when I had no clue how to navigate her presence in my office.

Audrey grabbed my arm as I stood. “Thank you,” she said. She looked exhausted. And I wasn’t surprised.

“Things will work out,” I said.

I hated to have to pull away and leave her, but I needed to make sure that my world wasn’t tumbling down beside hers.

“Stay in touch.”

I left the frying pan to head back to the fire.

Ten

Madison

Nathan Cove was late.

I rose from the chair in his office where Gretel had invited me to stay until Nathan returned and went over to the window. We were only six floors up so I could see the street. Had he left the building? I checked my watch. The itinerary that Gretel had produced for me said very clearly that he was supposed to be in a meeting with his Director of Operations right now. And I was supposed to be with him. But Christine had abandoned me here before telling me she was going to track her boss down.

It was clear from Gretel’s tight mouth and his assistant’s furtive glances between us that Nathan was AWOL. How did the CEO of a FTSE 100 company disappear in the middle of the day? What possible reason could he have for not telling his assistant where he was going? I could think of only three reasons.

A colonoscopy.

A prostitute.

He was under a bus.

I jumped as the door behind me opened and Nathan swept in looking more handsome than he did on Saturday, if that was even possible. My pulse began to drum in my neck, and I found myself not wanting to meet his eye in case he realized I was remembering him naked and moving over me just a few days ago.

I was here to do my job, not fantasize about hot guys in suits. It was the Post I worked at now. Not Rallegra.

“Madison,” he said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” His assistant bustled in behind him. He dismissed her with a few words, took off his jacket, and sat down at his desk.