Chapter 3 - The Man Behind the Missing MoneyMonday morning arrived with rain.
Sarah Jenkins sat in a glass-walled conference room on the twenty-third floor of an office building in downtown Chicago. Beyond the windows, the city looked washed in gray, its towers disappearing into the low clouds. A cup of untouched coffee sat beside her legal pad.
Across the table sat Diane, a forensic investigator named Robert Hayes, and attorney Michael Bennett, the divorce specialist Diane had recommended.
Sarah had expected the meeting to focus on the affair, the condominium, and the division of marital assets.
Instead, Robert had spent the first twenty minutes examining the transactions connected to the Peterson merger.
“Before we go any further,” he said, removing his glasses, “I want to be clear about something. Suspicious transactions aren't necessarily illegal transactions. We need documentation, not assumptions.”
Sarah nodded.
“That is exactly what I want.”
Robert turned his laptop toward her.
The screen displayed a diagram connecting three companies, two investment accounts, and a consulting business incorporated in Delaware.
“The company receiving these payments appears to have no meaningful operating history,” he explained. “That alone proves very little. What concerns me is the relationship between the payments and the proposed acquisition.”
“Tom works on the acquisition team,” Sarah said.
“I know. According to publicly available corporate records, the consulting company was established shortly before negotiations intensified. Several payments were made by a vendor connected to the target company.”
Diane leaned forward.
“Could Tom have received those payments personally?”
“Possibly. But we don't yet have evidence establishing who ultimately benefited.”
Sarah looked at the diagram.
“Who owns the consulting company?”
“That's what we're trying to establish.”
Robert opened another document.
The company's registered agent had confirmed that the business was active. Its filings, however, provided little information about its operations. A separate document listed an authorized representative whose name Sarah recognized.
Mark Ellison.
Tom's closest colleague.
Mark had attended their wedding. He had stayed at their house during a business conference when his hotel reservation was canceled. He had once helped Sarah replace a broken kitchen faucet while Tom was traveling.
He had also been the man Tom claimed had worked beside him during the supposed all-nighter.
Sarah stared at the name.
“Are you certain?”
“I'm certain that his name appears in the documentation. I'm not yet certain what that means.”
Diane exchanged a look with Michael.
“If Mark is involved,” Michael said, “we need to be careful. Any contact with him should go through appropriate channels. We don't want Sarah accused of interfering with a corporate investigation.”
Sarah folded her hands.
“I don't want to contact him. I want to know whether my husband used our money to finance something he never told me about.”
“That is a legitimate question,” Michael replied. “We'll pursue it through the proper process.”
For the first time since Saturday morning, Sarah felt that the ground beneath her was becoming solid.
Not because the truth was pleasant.
Because the truth was becoming measurable.
At eleven thirty, Tom entered the offices of Halpern, Pierce & Cole, the law firm representing his employer in the acquisition.
He had slept badly at Claire's house. His sister had given him a spare key and a clean towel but little sympathy.
“You can stay here,” she had told him Sunday evening, “but don't expect me to pretend you haven't hurt Sarah.”
Now he sat across from the company's general counsel, Margaret Lewis, who had requested the meeting without explaining why.
Margaret was a precise woman in her early fifties. She had spent twenty years protecting the company from people who believed that a good explanation could make a bad decision disappear.
She placed a folder on the desk.
“Tom, are you familiar with a consulting company called Northbridge Advisory?”
His stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Please answer the question.”
“I've heard the name.”
“Have you conducted business with it?”
“Not directly.”
Margaret opened the folder.
“Northbridge received payments from a vendor involved in the Peterson transaction. The company has no readily identifiable operating history. Your name appears in correspondence associated with one of its representatives.”
Tom maintained his expression.
“That doesn't mean I did anything wrong.”
“I didn't say it did.”
“Then what exactly is this meeting about?”
“Understanding the relationship.”
Tom adjusted his cuff.
He had prepared for many difficult meetings in his career. He knew how to answer questions without volunteering unnecessary information.
But Margaret was not a client he needed to impress. She was not an investor he needed to reassure.
She was investigating him.
“I'd like to have my attorney present,” he said.
Margaret nodded.
“That is your right. Until we establish the facts, you are being placed on administrative leave. You are not to access company systems or contact employees regarding the investigation.”
Tom stared at her.
“You're suspending me?”
“Temporarily.”
“The merger closes in three weeks.”
“That is precisely why we cannot ignore a potential conflict of interest.”
Tom stood.
“This is a misunderstanding.”
“Then I expect the investigation will clarify it.”
He left the office without another word.
In the elevator, he called Mark.
The call went directly to voicemail.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Then he called Jessica.
She answered after the third ring.
“Tom?”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Did anyone contact you about Northbridge Advisory?”
A pause.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I need to know whether you have spoken to anyone.”
“Tom, I told you I haven't spoken to anyone.”
He lowered his voice.
“Listen carefully. Don't discuss the merger with anyone. Don't delete anything. Don't send messages to Mark. If someone contacts you, tell me immediately.”
“Why would I delete anything?”
“I didn't say you should.”
“You're frightening me.”
Tom closed his eyes.
He had wanted Jessica to be the person who made everything feel uncomplicated.
Now every conversation with her reminded him of how complicated he had made everything else.
“I'll call you later,” he said.
He ended the call before she could answer.
At 2:15 p.m., Sarah received a message from an unknown number.
You need to know that Tom wasn't the person who came up with the arrangement.
She stared at the screen.
A second message followed.
Meet me alone if you want the truth.
Sarah forwarded both messages to Diane.
Her sister called immediately.
“Don't agree to anything.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good. We can establish who sent them without putting you in an unnecessary situation.”
Sarah looked through the window at the rain.
“Diane, what if Tom isn't the person who started this?”
“Then we find out who did.”
“And if he's been covering for someone?”
“Then we find out why.”
Sarah ended the call and returned to her work.
For twelve years, she had believed that understanding Tom meant understanding the world they shared.
Now she was beginning to understand something more uncomfortable.
She had known the man he presented to her.
She had not necessarily known the man he had become.
At five o'clock, another email arrived.
This one contained a single attachment: a photograph of a document bearing Tom's signature.
Sarah recognized the signature immediately.
Beneath it was a line of text she had never seen before.
Contingent compensation payable upon successful completion of the Peterson transaction.
The amount was substantial.
But the name of the recipient had been redacted.
Sarah downloaded the document and sent it to Robert.
Then she closed her laptop.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
For the first time in days, she felt ready to go home.
May you like
Not to the home she had once shared with Tom.
To the home she was determined to build without him.
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