Chapter 6 - THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
“Four hundred and ten thousand dollars.”
Laurel repeated the amount as though saying it aloud might make it understandable.
Elias nodded.
“That's what the reserve account shows.”
June checked the printed records.
“But where did it go?”
Caleb pointed toward the account description.
“Emergency building repairs.”
Laurel frowned.
“Brightstep had a heating problem in September.”
She remembered the photographs.
Water had damaged part of the ceiling in the older therapy wing.
The heating system had become unreliable.
Several classrooms were closed for nearly two weeks.
Martin Voss had personally assured donors that repairs were covered.
“I thought the insurance claim paid for most of it,” Laurel said.
“So did I,” Elias replied.
They found Martin in a private hospitality room behind the ballroom.
Preston wasn't with him.
For the first time that evening, Martin looked his age.
He sat on a leather chair, rubbing his forehead.
When Laurel placed the reserve account record on the table, he didn't pretend not to recognize it.
“Where did the money go?” she asked.
Martin looked at the document.
“The contractor.”
“Was the payment authorized by the board?”
He didn't answer.
Elias stepped forward.
“Martin.”
“No,” Martin said finally.
The word seemed to hurt him.
“I approved it myself.”
Laurel stared.
“You took money reserved for the new center?”
“The old building was freezing. Children couldn't use half the rooms. Families were canceling therapy appointments.”
His voice rose.
“The board wanted three estimates and another meeting. We didn't have another month.”
Laurel understood the urgency.
She even understood why he might have panicked.
But understanding didn't make the decision acceptable.
“You should have told them.”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
Martin rubbed his forehead again.
“After the insurance reimbursement. But the claim was disputed. The contractor wanted the remaining payment. Our accountants started asking questions.”
“And that's when Preston approached you,” Elias said.
Martin looked up sharply.
“He offered a solution.”
“A five-year software contract?”
“He said Aperture Giving could provide a modernization credit to offset the reserve shortage.”
Laurel shook her head.
“A credit isn't a charitable donation.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
Martin looked at her.
There was no arrogance left in his face.
Only exhaustion.
“I spent twenty-three years helping that center, Laurel. Twenty-three years. I wasn't trying to steal from children.”
“Then why did you let Preston use my name?”
Martin's eyes moved toward the door.
“He said you knew about the arrangement.”
Laurel nearly laughed.
“He told you that?”
“He showed me an approval record.”
“The record he made himself.”
Martin lowered his eyes.
“He said you'd agreed to classify the technology contribution as part of the capital campaign.”
“And you never asked me?”
Martin said nothing.
Laurel thought of the long evenings she'd spent organizing this fundraiser.
The meetings she'd attended after her shifts.
The hours she'd volunteered because Brightstep's director couldn't afford another event consultant.
“You didn't ask because you were afraid I'd say no.”
Martin's silence confirmed it.
Elias picked up the folder.
“The contract would have committed future donations to license fees and other technology charges. It wouldn't have replaced the reserve money with cash.”
Martin leaned back.
“Preston told me Northline wanted the technology.”
Laurel turned toward Elias.
“You knew about the proposed contract?”
Elias hesitated.
And that small hesitation was enough.
“Yes,” he said.
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Laurel stared at him.
“You've known for two weeks?”
“I received a preliminary investment proposal.”
“Did it mention me?”
“Your name appeared on the administrative approval.”
The room went silent.
Laurel felt something painful open beneath her ribs.
“You thought I approved it.”
“I considered the possibility.”
“And tonight, when Preston humiliated me, you stood there watching.”
Elias said nothing.
She remembered his calm expression beside the staircase.
The way he'd studied her when she helped Ben.
She had mistaken that look for simple curiosity.
Now she understood.
He'd been judging whether she matched the woman described in the paperwork.
“You weren't watching Preston,” she whispered.
“You were watching me.”
Elias stepped closer.
“Laurel, I didn't know the documents were false.”
“But you suspected something was wrong, and you let me stand there alone.”
His expression changed.
“I should have asked you directly.”
“Yes,” she said. “You should have.”
She walked away before he could say anything else.
In the corridor, June was waiting.
“Are you okay?”
Laurel shook her head.
“Not particularly.”
June slipped an arm around her shoulders.
For a moment, Laurel allowed herself to lean against her.
Then the ballroom speakers crackled.
The music stopped.
A man's voice filled the hallway.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?”
Preston.
Laurel stopped.
“Before we begin tonight's fundraising presentation, there's an unfortunate matter we need to address.”
June's face drained of color.
They hurried toward the ballroom.
Preston stood onstage beneath the enormous crystal chandelier.
Behind him, the projection screen displayed the Brightstep logo.
Then the image changed.
An administrative warning appeared.
UNAUTHORIZED DONATION MODIFICATION.
Laurel's name was beneath it.
May you like
Preston looked straight toward the service entrance.
“The employee responsible is standing right there.”
