Even the Score(102)By: Beth Ehemann
“Well, when I was going over his records, one thing jumped out at me. One big, fifteen-thousand-dollar thing.” He opened the file and turned it around.
Dani and I both leaned forward so we could read it. Several months back, about a week after Dani started working for me, a deposit was made into his account in the amount of fifteen thousand dollars.
“What’s a guy like that doing with that much money?” I asked as I sat back.
“Exactly,” Detective Larson exclaimed as he slammed his hand down hard on the table, causing Dani to nearly jump out of her seat. “So we did a little more digging and found the originator of the deposit came from an offshore account in Europe.”
“It is Cole!” Dani blurted out as she uncrossed her legs and sat up straight at the front of her seat.
Detective Larson and I both flinched at her outburst and stared at her, totally confused.
She ignored him and looked straight at me. “Andy, I was right. It’s Cole. It has to be. All of the athletes have offshore accounts that they hide money in . . . from the government, from their spouses, whatever. You know that.”
I pinched my top lip in between my teeth and nodded, thinking about what she’d just said. I looked up at Larson. “She’s right. A lot of them have these accounts. Can someone find a name for us?”
“The problem with these accounts is that they’re easier to fake than accounts in the US. We’ve already looked up where it came from, and I have to say, while it’s not impossible, it doesn’t seem like an account that a professional football player would have.” He flipped two or three pages over until he came to a sheet with a yellow-highlighted line on it. “Ah, here it is.”
Once again he turned it to face us, and as soon as I saw the name, all air left my lungs. My chest ached, and I struggled to breathe. I sat back and placed my palms firmly on the arm of the chair, pushing myself up. I was trying to elongate my torso to take a deep breath, but it wasn’t working.
Dani drew her brows in together and frowned at me. “Andy? Are you okay?”
“Mr. Shaw?” Larson said as I stood and paced along the back wall of the suddenly very small room.
Dani rushed over, placing her hands on my chest to stop me. “You’re scaring the crap out of me. What is it?”
I walked over to the paper and pointed to the highlighted line without saying a word.
Storybook Productions, LLC.
“Yeah?” She shrugged and looked at me again.
“That’s it. That’s the restaurant. Remember the one I told you Blaire and I used to go to in college?” I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. “There’s no way this is a fucking coincidence.”
Dani’s breath hitched, and as all emotion left her face, the blood went right along with it. She turned white as I’d ever seen her, and I was worried she was going to pass out. “Here. Sit.” I took her hand and guided her to the chair, which she sat in, completely stunned and staring straight ahead.
“Who’s Blaire?” Larson asked, grabbing a pen and notepad from his pocket.
I put one hand on my hip and ran the other through my hair, not ready to say the words out loud. How could it be possible that she would stoop that low? She’d been a manipulative, money-hungry bitch throughout most of our marriage, but she’d never been a criminal.
“Mr. Shaw?” he repeated.
“Uh . . . ex-wife. My psycho ex-wife, who’s obviously way crazier than I ever realized. She did this. I don’t know how, but she did this.” I sank down into my chair, rested my elbows on my knees, and leaned forward, staring deadpan at the black carpet as a tear dripped from the end of my nose.
As Andy filled Detective Larson in on the history behind Storybook Productions and the important facts of his past with Blaire, I recoiled into myself. I heard the sound of their voices but couldn’t make out their words as my eyes fixated on the laminated wood tabletop. My mind started to wander over to the realm of what-if.
What if I’d never stood up to Cole?
What if I’d never quit my job with the Leighton brothers?
What if I’d never sent that résumé in to Shaw Management?
What if I’d never gone into The Penalty Box that night with Sadie?
Questions played over and over in my mind, but with each question, the answer was always the same . . . then I never would have met Andy.
“Okay.” Detective Larson sighed loudly, bringing me back down to earth. “I have to go make a few calls and get the ball rolling on this. With any luck we can bring her in for questioning today.”
“I’d like to be there when you question her,” Andy said sternly.