Ellie Ashe - Miranda Vaughn 02 - Dropping the Dime (3 page)

Maybe I was finally getting over that inconvenient crush on the FBI agent.

Kathryn Hammond pulled her rust-colored cardigan around her, as if chilled in the warm conference room. She studied her cup of tea through black-rimmed eyeglasses and avoided making eye contact with me or Rob. When she finally looked up and answered, her eyes were sad.

"I don't really want to do this, Mr. Fogg. The Leonidis company has been a good employer to me in the last two years, to lots of people. But there's something going on, and I'm afraid it's illegal. And I didn't know what to do with what I found."

Rob nodded at the serious woman across the table from him. Kathryn Hammond went back to staring at the table. She was in her thirties, though her unflattering hairstyle aged her a decade. Her hair, almost the same shade as her rusty orange sweater, hung long with bangs that covered the top of her thick glasses. Accountant glasses. She spoke so quietly that I had to lean in to hear her answers to Rob's questions.

"I understand," Rob said. "I just want you to understand what you're getting into."

She looked up at him with wide brown eyes. "Yes, I know what I'm doing. I could look the other way, but as chief financial officer, I'm expected to verify certain information, and I can't do that if Mr. Leonidis is withholding information from me. Or lying to me."

Rob leaned back in his chair, a stance that seemed to put the nervous accountant a little more at ease.

"Why don't you tell me how you came to work at Leonidis Development?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes stealing over at me then back to Rob. "I've been there two years. Five years ago, the CFO, Mark Ramsey, left to go to a venture capital firm in San Jose. Well, I think he left because he got divorced. He was married to Ana Leonidis, Mr. Leonidis's daughter."

I'd seen a brief mention of the split in a business article announcing Mark Ramsey's hiring at the venture capital firm. There wasn't any mention in the news media about the divorce details. I knew, because it was one of the more interesting aspects of the business coverage, and I was disappointed that there wasn't more gossip.

"Then Mr. Leonidis's oldest son, Milo, became CFO for a few years. I came in because Milo wanted to do more of the operations oversight," Kathryn said.

"Both sons work for him, right?" Rob asked, looking over my memo. He knew the answer but needed to prompt Kathryn to keep talking.

"Yes, well, all three of his children do." She sipped the tea again. "Milo, the oldest, he's second in command. His title is vice-president of operations, but he does a lot of different things—planning, purchasing land. Alexi oversees the construction of the houses, makes sure that there are enough workers and that they're on schedule."

"And Ana, what does she do?" I asked.

Kathryn tilted her head. "Well, her title is vice-president of marketing. She, uh, well, she has an office and an assistant. There are a few people who work in marketing, and I guess they answer to her," she said, the uncertainty in her voice reflected in her expression. "I do know that she names all the streets."

"She does what?" Rob asked.

"The street names. She chooses them for each neighborhood we build."

It had never occurred to me that it was someone's job to name the streets, but it made sense that someone did. It didn't sound like a bad job.

"And what made you call the IRS?"

Kathryn set the tea on the table, but still gripped the cup tightly in her hands. "You have to understand—I really like my job. The Leonidis Company has been very good to me. Mr. Leonidis is always nice, and he respects my work. I didn't want to do this."

Behind the thick lenses, her eyes blinked away tears that threatened to fall. Rob nodded and said nothing, letting her find her way to the answer to his question.

"It's just that I've had this suspicion for a while, and every time I go to Mr. Leonidis, he tells me it's nothing to worry about. But I sign a lot of the documents for the corporation, like the accountings and profit and loss statements, and if I can't verify something, I'm not comfortable putting my signature on it."

"Of course," Rob said softly. "What exactly made you uncomfortable?"

She shifted in her chair and leaned down to pull some documents from her large, lumpy brown leather purse. "This was what I found first."

She opened a folder, and Rob moved to let me lean into see the documents. They were copies of checks to Acadia Street, Inc.

"What is Acadia Street, Inc.?"

"That's just it—I don't know. And Mr. Leonidis told me not to worry about it. I'm not even sure how to classify this expense. I've checked all the vendor statements we've received, and I've never seen a bill from this company."

I did some quick calculations and let out a low whistle. "Is it unusual for Leonidis Construction to pay out $289,000 a month to one vendor?"

She shrugged. "We are a large company, so we have large bills. But this one has been going on a while. In the past year, we've paid more than two million dollars to Acadia Street Inc., for no apparent reason."

"What do you think is going on?" Rob asked, thumbing through the copies of checks.

Kathryn shook her head. "I don't know."

"What do you suspect?"

She looked over at me, then back to Rob. "I suspect that this is a company that Mr. Leonidis set up himself, to skim profits from the corporation and avoid paying taxes."

I nodded, following her train of thought. It was a crude tax dodge, but that would have been my suspicion, also.

"Is there anything else?"

"When I confronted Mr. Leonidis and told him I couldn't find the invoices, he gave me this," she said, pulling another file from her bottomless pit of a purse.

She slid a stack of papers over to Rob, who passed them directly to me. They were invoices from Acadia Street that were nearly void of all information. The company's name was centered at the top of the page, a post office box in Nevada below that, and the invoice was for "services rendered." The invoice amounts matched the checks.

"There's not much detail, but doesn't that answer your questions?" Rob asked, peering over at the documents.

She sighed. "They're fake."

"Are you sure?" Rob asked.

"Anyone could have made this on a word processing program," I said. "There's no signature, no purchase order number, no logo."

Kathryn nodded. "And I found the template on Mr. Leonidis's computer. He made them."

At this, Rob nodded.

"Okay, I get it," he said. "Kathryn, let me tell you what's going to happen now. Since you've agreed to cooperate with the government's investigation, you're going to be working with IRS Criminal Investigator Finn Buchanan and FBI Special Agent Jake Barnes. They're white-collar investigators. I've worked with both before, and they're decent guys, but they are not your friends. Do you understand?"

Kathryn's eyes grew wide, and she nodded. "Mr. Buchanan seemed very nice on the phone."

"I'm sure he did," Rob said. "Let me reiterate: They are not your friends. They are not there to help you. If they suspect you of lying to them, of not telling them everything, they'll turn their investigation to you."

"I understand," Kathryn said.

I wondered if she did. There was no way to explain the feeling of having the government bring all its power and resources to bear upon you, set on proving that you did something wrong.

"They'll ask you questions that they know the answers to, just to check your veracity. They'll lie to you. They'll ask you to turn in people who you like," Rob said. "Are you prepared to do that?"

Kathryn hesitated this time. "What do you mean, turn in people I like?"

"You work with lots of other people, right? Probably a dozen or more people in the headquarters? Well, in its investigation, the government may find something about one of them, and they may pursue that. And they may ask you to tell them what you know about that person," he said.

"Oh, I see," Kathryn said. "I don't know anything about my coworkers, except what I hear at work. I don't socialize with them, so I don't think I'd be very helpful to the IRS or the FBI for that."

"I just want to make sure you understand what this entails," he said. "It can get messy."

Kathryn nodded again. "Yes, I know."

Rob gave her a gentle smile. "Okay then. I have to ask you, is there anything I should know before we start down this path?"

Kathryn shook her head. "I don't have any skeletons in my closet, Mr. Fogg."

"You're sure? Anything you tell me, or any of my staff, like Miranda here, is confidential. If there's anything we should know, it's better that you tell us now so we can figure out how to deal with that. I don't like being surprised, and neither does the FBI."

Kathryn gave him a shy smile. "I'm not hiding anything. I'm just, well, sort of boring."

This did not shock me—Kathryn Hammond dressed like a schoolmarm. I couldn't see her out on the town, living a secret life. Or even staying out past nine o'clock.

A soft knock sounded on the library door, and Theresa stuck her head in. "The feds are here."

"I'll be right out," Rob said. The door shut, and he turned back to Kathryn. "You ready?"

At her nod, Rob stood and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Kathryn's fingers wrapped around each other with nervous energy. It was contagious and made me fidget, too. I stood instead and walked to her side of the table, moving all our paperwork so the agents could sit across from us.

"Miranda, can I ask you something?"

I looked back at the accountant, twisting a battered napkin in her hands. I had a feeling I knew what she wanted to ask me. My criminal case was nearly a year ago, but it was high profile. If people didn't ask outright about the trial, the questions were there on their faces. Suspicion, mingled with doubt about whether I should be in prison.

I sighed and nodded. If she had questions about the people who she was paying to protect her, she deserved answers.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

That wasn't the question I was expecting, and I didn't have an answer prepared. On one hand, I had no love for the FBI or the federal prosecutors who had made my life a living hell for the better part of two years. But Kathryn was put in a difficult situation by her boss, and by not reporting it, she might be complicit in any tax evasion scheme he was attempting. Had I had a clue that my former boss was defrauding investors, I'd have turned him in. No one likes a cheater.

"Yes, I think you are."

"It just seems like I'm unleashing a wolf that's going to go after Mr. Leonidis, and there won't be any way to pull it back," Kathryn said.

It was exactly like that. "You'll get through this. Just listen to Rob's advice. He knows what he's doing."

The door opened and an imposing man in a dark gray suit followed Rob back into the conference room. He was about Rob's height, but wider, with shoulders like a linebacker. His head was shaved bald and his eyes were an unusual gray-blue color that nearly matched his suit.

"This is Special Agent Finn Buchanan, a criminal investigator with the IRS. He's going to be involved in your case, Kathryn." Rob stood behind Kathryn, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Mr. Buchanan, this is Kathryn Hammond."

Kathryn stood and shook hands with the investigator as disappointment flood through me. I had been expecting Jake to walk in and until he didn't, I hadn't realized how much I wanted to see him again.

Finn Buchanan took Kathryn's hand and smiled, an expression that softened the intimidating impression.

"It's very nice to meet you, Miss Hammond," he said with a drawl that conjured images of a heavy, warm breeze rustling boughs of honeysuckle draped over a porch railing.
Holy hell, that accent had probably unclasped a thousand bras.

"And this is my assistant, Miranda Vaughn."

I met his gaze, extending my hand. If he recognized my name, it didn't show on his expression. "Miss Vaughn," he said. "I'm looking forward to working with y'all."

Kathryn let loose a nervous giggle and then sat and gripped her hands together.

"You working alone today?" Rob asked, voicing the same question in my mind.

"Special agents Barnes and Boylan are on their way," Finn said, taking the seat that Rob offered.

Theresa appeared at the door, followed by a tall, slim woman with long brown hair. She wore a black suit and the quiet confidence that came from having supermodel good looks and a concealed firearm. My gaze moved quickly from her to the man behind her.

Jake Barnes was wearing a suit and tie, his jacket emphasizing those wide shoulders. His dark hair was shorter than the last time I saw him, but his brown eyes were as warm and as intense as I remembered. My mouth went dry and my mind went back in time six months to when we'd spent a week together overseas. A time when I'd seen him without the jacket or shirt. All the old feelings I'd suppressed, pushed aside, denied were real, came flooding back.

I tried to find a poker face and stood as the two agents entered the conference room and introductions were made.