“The other things in the bag,” Ethan said. “The food. You don’t have to… I’m not going to…”
“Thank you,” she said. Simply. Without further apologies. She’d already exhausted them all. All she had left was the direct version. “Thank you. We needed it.”
-I know.
He looked at her. “You checked my credit report.”
-Yes.
“That’s exactly it…” she began.
“I know,” he said. “It was an invasion. I’m sorry. I didn’t know any other way to make sure you were okay and that the situation was what it seemed.”
He thought about it.
“Were you checking to make sure I was safe,” she asked, “or that I was a legitimate person?”
The question was precise. He looked at her.
“Both,” she answered truthfully.
She nodded, as if that were acceptable.
“There’s something else,” he said.
“There is much more,” he said.
“Harmon Financial,” he said.
His face remained motionless.
—What do you think?
“I know the name. I’ve heard about that company in the last year. Rumors of shady dealings.” He looked at her. “You worked in their accounting department.”
—For two years.
—You noticed something.
Now she was still. Lily continued to eat, making the little gurgles of satisfaction typical of a hungry child who’s finally satisfied. Clara squeezed her arms lightly.
“I asked a question,” he said cautiously. “About a transaction I didn’t understand.” A week later, security escorted me out.
—What did the transaction include?
—I don’t have my documents. They took my laptop.
—But you remember.
He looked at him.
“I’ve worked with numbers all my adult life,” he said. “I remember well what I saw.”
What she told him over the next forty minutes, in the Sedwick Avenue study, as Lily finished her bottle and fell into a deep sleep, with the instant unconsciousness of a well-fed newborn, was the description of something Ethan had been hearing whispered about for eight months.
The transactions he described—the vendor codes that didn’t match any legitimate vendor, the sequence of small movements that individually looked like rounding errors but taken together described a systematic deviation—fitted the profile of an SEC investigation that, until three weeks ago, was in its preliminary stages.
He described it with the precision of someone who has spent years analyzing numbers and understands that accuracy is what makes the difference between what can be proven and what can only be suspected.
He listened to her.
He asked her three questions. She answered all three without hesitation.
When he finished, he said, “You need a lawyer.”
“I don’t have the money for a lawyer.”
“I know.” He pulled out his phone. “I know someone. Her name is Victoria Marsh. She handles whistleblower cases for the SEC. If what you’re describing…”
I believe this is Bing; they will accept this case without requiring any upfront payment.
Clara looked at him.
—Why on earth would you do that?
“Because you lost your job for noticing something others were paid to ignore,” he said. “And because those who did this to you continue to do it.”
—You don’t know me.
“I know enough,” she said. “I’ve dedicated my career to learning to read people in 30 seconds. You’re a prudent person who asked a big question and was punished for it. You’re raising a child alone with $3.27 in your wallet, yet you sent four ‘Sorry to ask’ texts to someone you needed help from. This isn’t the behavior of someone trying to take advantage of the situation.”
He remained silent for a long time.
“How do you know what was in my wallet?” he asked.
He paused. “I calculated it based on the credit report.”
She looked at the wallet on the counter.
“It was $3.27,” he said.
She left the groceries, the cans of formula , three hundred dollars in cash on the counter without saying a word, and Victoria Marsh’s direct telephone number written on a business card.
He stopped at the door.
“The eviction notice,” he said. “Can I…”
“No,” she said.
He looked at her.
“Not yet,” he said. “The lawyer first. I need to know what’s coming before I accept something I can’t trace back to.” He paused. “I mean that as a compliment. Whoever took over from me knew how to make even the bad seem good. I have to be wary of the good things that might actually be good.”
He understood it immediately.
“It makes sense,” he said.
“Thanks for coming,” she said. “It wasn’t necessary.”
-I know.
Continue on the next page.
