The Fall of the Prodigal (5 page)

“The numbers aren't adding up.” Sitting across from Keith in the conference room, Natalie gave him a worried glance.

“I see that,” he said.

He bit into his turkey sandwich and studied the spreadsheets. As soon as the game ended, he had dropped Trey off at home and driven into Manhattan. At first glance, it appeared everything was in order. On closer inspection, Keith could see there had been a subtle shifting of funds. His event was sold out and funds collected. Yet, by the look of things, they would not be able to pay the caterers or pay for the venue.

“Besides myself, the only people who have access to the account are you, Gina, and the two trustees.”

Keith pictured Bishop Combs and Deacon Broderson. “No way!” he said, with a wide sweep of his hands. “I refuse to believe that of either of them.”

“Well something's amiss,” Natalie said. “Funds have been misappropriated and if this gets out . . .”

“We're ruined,” Keith finished for her.

“You need to tell Gina,” Natalie said.

“She's going to be heartbroken. I'll tell her tonight. Or,” he massaged his temples, “I could use my personal funds to cover the missing amount.”

“No.” Natalie shook her head. “I wouldn't advise you to do that. That's tantamount to admission of guilt—embezzlement. It could mark the end of your career.”

“As luck would have it, we do have an anonymous benefactor who offered a sizeable donation.”

Keith perked up. “I like the sound of that!” A benefactor would solve their immediate problems. He would still have to find out if there was an Achan in the camp. He referenced the Bible history of Achan. Achan had stolen a vessel and hidden it causing God's wrath on the people.

“I did some serious digging. I think I might know who he is. The problem is he's an alleged rape convict. He even had his attorney purchase two plates.”

Michael.
Irritation seeped through him. It seemed as if everywhere Keith turned, Michael was invading his life.

“Let's hold for now,” he told Natalie. “Let me pray, consult with God, and talk to Gina. In that order. I'll have an answer for you in a couple days.”

“Wait. I almost forgot to mention, Bill Laurelton is on the list of attendees. Both he and Michael will be there. I've beefed up security and placed them at opposite ends of the room. I doubt they'll run into each other.”

Keith looked heavenward. “When it rains . . .”

He said his good-byes and went through the door. As soon as he arrived home, he went into his office to pray. Then he sought the word on how to deal with Bishop Combs. Keith knew the appropriate scripture for this occasion.

He read Galatians 6:1, which said:

The Word was true. If he were in the bishop's position, he would want to be treated with love. He would want some measure of mercy.

Keith called his secretary, Dianne Hupert, at Zion's Hill. “Can you set up a meeting with Bishop Combs and Deacon Broderson?”

“The bishop is out on a cruise. He and his wife left a couple days ago. I can set up your meeting when he returns.”

Rocks lined his insides at that new information. Bits of conversations with Bishop Combs came back to him.

Bishop Combs owned Combs Consulting, which oversaw the foundation's funds and allocations. He had shocked the congregation when he married a twenty-six-year-old waitress, Suzette Hodge. The younger woman had been nothing short of demanding.

Keith rang the bishop's cell phone, again. He left a voicemail message on the odd chance Bishop Combs checked his messages while he was on the cruise.

He called the deacon next. However, Natalie had beaten him to it. Broderson was already meeting with her the next morning. Satisfied with that phone call, Keith then went to seek out his wife.

Gina was in the computer room. Programs and other paraphernalia associated with the foundation were spread out around her.

He dove right into the conversation. “Gina, there's a problem with the Cancer Ball. Funds are missing.”

“Missing? What do you mean funds are missing? I was just at the meeting. No one mentioned any money troubles.”

“Natalie met with me.” He picked his way across the stuff lying across the floor and sat on the couch in the corner. “She and I are talking with Deacon Broderson tomorrow. We suspect it might be the bishop.”

Gina's mouth hung agape. Her eyes were the size of saucers. “The bishop? As in Bishop Combs?” Shaking her head, she said, “I don't believe it.”

“I'm having a hard time processing it myself. He and Suzette are off on an extended cruise.”

She shook her head. “That doesn't sound good.”

“We might have a benefactor.”

She tilted her head. “Who?”

“Michael.”

Gina jumped to her feet. Papers flew this way and the other. She didn't appear to care. “No way! The man is ingratiating his way into our lives. I want nothing to do with his money.”

Keith defended Michael. “You're forgetting he loves Trey. He bought two plates, so expect to see him.”

She wrapped her arms about her. “Why? Why won't he leave us alone? He probably orchestrated the whole money fiasco so he can swoop in to save the day.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. If there were rain clouds, Gina would find a way to blame Michael. He was convinced of that. Keith returned to the previous topic. “I plan on confronting the bishop as soon as he returns. In the meantime, we'll proceed with the plans.”

She touched his arm. “Please fix it. This can't get out. This organization was formed to benefit others. We can't afford any scandals or bad press.”

Keith nodded. His stomach knotted.
God, only you can turn this situation around for your good.

“I'm not your lackey, Michael Ward,” Verona spat at him.

Standing on the edge of the curb outside his penthouse, Michael eyed Verona. She was in the driver seat of his corvette and insulting him. Can you imagine? Verona owned an SUV, but preferred his smaller, faster vehicle.

Even though it was after nine-thirty p.m., cars whizzed by and pedestrians bustled past him on their way to the theater or some other diversion. Used to New York's active nightlife, Michael tuned them out.

Michael hunched over and asked, “Did you get the tickets? Did you make the donation?”

“Yes, I bought two tickets in your name. But, there is a holdup with the donation.”

At that moment, a driver honked, momentarily distracting him. Michael shook his head and gestured for the man to go around. Ignoring the crude finger and disgruntled look from the driver, Michael returned to his conversation. He narrowed his eyes. “What holdup?”

“They refused to accept it.” That was all the explanation she offered.

“Make them.”

He could see Verona tapping her foot inside the car. Too bad. He wasn't finished. “I need you here tomorrow at eight a.m. Leonard is coming with the papers for me to sign and things could sour fast.”

She nodded, then rolled her eyes at him before tearing off. Michael waited until his car disappeared around the bend.

What is eating her?
Verona had been unusually quiet at the game. She declined his dinner invite, citing a headache. Was she dating someone?

What did he care? Michael shrugged and entered his building. Verona didn't need a boyfriend, or any distraction but him. He made his way to the elevator that whisked him up to the penthouse suite. By the time Michael reached the door, thoughts of Verona had left his mind. Instead, he was filled with thoughts of Trey.

Seeing his nephew shook him. Michael had not known what it would feel like to see Trey again. He had raised Trey as his son for seven years. To his surprise, he had shed tears. Tears of joy, not pain.

Michael wandered into his study. It was the first time he had felt an emotional connection to anyone besides his mother.

He welcomed it.

He feared it.

However, seeing Trey out there on the field made Michael question his past actions and current decisions. After his marriage to Gina ended, he vowed to avoid any emotional entanglements. Michael liked not feeling or caring. It made him feel invincible.

Then Lauren dropped the news she loved him and was pregnant. That was his chance to grab on to what she offered. A family of his own. However, Michael had not seen it that way. Instead, he had kicked Lauren out the door and out of his life, and he had not been nice about it. Michael could not believe God had given him the miracle of fathering his own children. When he finally realized the truth, it had been too late. Lauren had left him for good.

If he found her, he could set things right. He could have a part two, a do-over. Michael closed his eyes and imagined holding John and Olivia in each of his arms. Oh, how he yearned for it.

His cell phone buzzed snapping him out of fantasyland. “Did you forget something?” Michael asked.

“I can't come at eight in the morning. I have a dentist appointment,” Verona said.

“Listen, it's a no-brainer. You need to reschedule.”

Michael made his way into his walk-in closet and pulled out his gray suit and light blue shirt. He could hear Verona fussing but tuned out her words.

“Michael, are you listening to me?”

“Of course.”

Verona emitted a huge sigh. “I can't reschedule. If I do, it'll be months before they can fit me in.”

“I'm not following your thinking.” He snagged two ties. Which should he choose? He used his phone's camera to snap a picture of the ties. Verona continued her explanation but he interrupted. “I'm texting you two pics of my ties. Tell me which one I should wear.”

“What do I look like to you?”

“I'll personally get you a new appointment.” Now if she would just answer his question about the tie.

“Personally?”

“Okay, I meant my secretary. I will guarantee you the whitest teeth on this side of the bridge,” he said. “Now, can you answer my question? Please? Checkered or print.”

Verona released another dramatic sigh followed by an ungracious, “Fine. Send them,” before he heard the dead end of the line.

Michael texted the pictures. It didn't take two seconds before he saw Checkered appear on the screen. He studied her choice before agreeing. Thx, he responded.

Michael replaced the other tie. If there was one thing he could appreciate about Verona, it was her fine taste. She knew how to put herself together.

Is she seeing someone?
The question popped into his mind. He hoped not. His life was at stake. She had better not be seeing anybody especially on his time.

Verona could have a hundred men for all he cared. As long as she made sure she was there when he needed her.

Michael scoffed. Why was he dwelling on a non-issue? If Verona had a man, she would've told him. Wouldn't she?

Michael searched his pants pocket to call Verona and demand to know why she had declined his dinner invite. Then, common sense prevailed and he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“I'm not going to call her. Verona might get the ridiculous idea I care if she has a man. And I don't. I don't care at all.” All this Michael mumbled as he speed dialed Verona. If she did not answer, then . . .

“What now, Michael Ward? Do you need help zipping your pants?”

Relief seeped into his spine. She was not out on a date.

Michael panicked. He could not tell Verona the real reason for his call. “I need you here at seven-thirty, instead, to review everything. I want to ensure there'll be no mismanagement of my funds.”

“Leonard Paulson is your VP and pretty adept at handling your affairs. And, he's loyal. I told you when you hired him, he was a good choice.”

“That's all well and good. Be here,” Michael insisted. “Need I remind you who's the boss?”

 

Verona hung up on Michael. If she didn't know better, she would think he was calling just to be calling. Michael called her for everything: ties, shoes, food; you name it; he had called her for it. What did he do without her before?

Verona went to gather items for her bath. Of all the men in the world, she couldn't understand why him? She loved him, yes. But, he was insufferable. Hard to please. Demanding. Yet her heart flip-flopped upon seeing him. Every.Single.Time.

Verona had believed herself a smart woman until she had been dumb enough to fall in love with Michael Jason Ward. Before him, she had been all about progress and carving her name on a judge's bench. Now, she had visions of baby booties and pacifiers, complete with a ring on her left hand.

Verona rested her hand over her flat stomach. She had lied to Michael. Her appointment was with an OB/GYN. She had skipped a year and was due for an annual visit. She hoped they would be able to reschedule soon.

 

 

The next morning Verona used her key card to enter Michael's suite and headed to the kitchen. Of course, he was already there. She put the coffee on to percolate. He dropped bagels in the toaster. She reached into the cupboard for two large mugs.

The two met by the refrigerator: Michael to reach for the cream cheese; and she for the creamer. Their hands met briefly. Verona inhaled. Her insides fluttered. Her knees wobbled. While she strove to breathe normally, Michael appeared unaffected. The oaf.

“Someone's in a funk,” Michael said.

Verona cut her eyes at him. Let him think whatever he wanted. She would speak to him only when necessary. She wasn't on the clock, yet.

The bagels popped and Michael retrieved two plates. He lathered the bagels with a generous amount of cream cheese.

“You know I prefer a small amount.”

“Someone's grumpy.” He smiled, while removing some of the excess.

Verona yanked open the kitchen drawer and fetched the Santoku knife. Grabbing some fruit, she made a fruit salad for them to enjoy with their meal. They had done this ritual many times before when consulting on cases, but now that Verona knew how she felt about Michael, it was hard to keep up the pretense of normalcy. It strained her nerves to the max.

They slid into chairs and commenced their meal.

Michael tasted his coffee. “Ahhh . . . it's perfect.”

“Thanks for getting my whole wheat bagel this time,” she begrudgingly said.

“Still doesn't beat cinnamon raisin.”

Verona couldn't take it anymore. She placed her half-eaten bagel back into her plate. “Michael, what's this meeting about? Please, let's quit the pretense of domestic bliss.”

“Okay, fine. Just before Leonard comes, I have a special request. I need you to befriend Gina.” Gone was the agreeable man from minutes ago. He was now every inch the astute businessman, known for his cutthroat deals.

In a swift move, Verona scraped her chair back and stood. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “You want me to make nice with your ex-wife? You don't pay me enough to handpick my friends.”

“This is different. It's business,” he said, with clipped tones. “Keith told me Gina refused to be a character witness. I can pay people to say whatever I want, and I will if I have to, but having my ex-wife present me in a positive light would help. I thought if you were able to get close to her, you might use your persuasive powers and she'd change her mind.”

She blinked. Michael was asking for too much. “Character witnesses aren't generally used in criminal cases, but I can understand using Gina for this case. Now, I like to win, believe me, but this leaves a bad taste in my mouth. You did put her on blast on live television.”

The truth was Verona was not above playing friends to suit her purpose. But, she could not abide being in the same vicinity with someone who had slept with Michael. Jealousy tore at her core. She would not be able to laugh with Gina knowing she wanted to rip out Gina's hair.

“I need you, Verona.” Michael abandoned his food. His long hands reached over to grasp hers.

Oh, how she longed to hear those words, under much different circumstances, of course.

“I'm going to be in jail for the rest of my life. You have the power to help set me free. Please don't say no. At least tell me you'll think about it.”

Verona opened her mouth to turn him down. She surprised herself when she said, “I'll do it.”