Chapter 7
“As I already know,” Sienna repeated his statement. “Yes. I thought I knew my coworkers. But they fooled me.” She shook her head. “What is there for food?” She reached up a hand and rubbed her temple. “I’m feeling better. I don’t know if it was the air conditioning there or the damn coffee, but I was pretty nauseated.”
“We can order in, or check out the hotel restaurant.”
Sienna glanced at the paperwork and laptop. “I’m not comfortable leaving this material here without us. So, delivery or room service.”
He studied her for a long moment. “I saw a little Italian place around the corner when we drove in. Would you be okay if I left you long enough to get two dinners?”
“That would be perfect.” She smiled at him. “And I really love Italian.”
“I think you just love food of all kinds.” He got up, turned to look at her and said, “Do not let anybody inside. And don’t answer the hotel phone.” And with that he started to leave, only to stop at the doorway, pivot and walk back. He leaned down and gave her a long, hard kiss. As he lifted his head, he whispered in a dark voice, “Stay safe.”
When she could breathe again, she found him gone.
She leaned back against the headboard, grateful for the moment alone to catch her breath. He was a hell of a kisser. And he cared. She smiled, knowing that regardless of this op or any others to come, she’d been right to accept Levi’s offer.
Considering her growling stomach, she was also grateful a meal was coming but was a little more concerned about the fact that information was missing. It had all the hallmarks of someone laying the blame on her. Again. What she had was a clean set of books. And a ledger with some of the pages missing. All it did was make her suspicious. She wasn’t an accountant per se. She was a programmer. She flicked open the laptop and looked at the company books again. It showed the last three years. It would take time to go through the multiple entries, so she picked a place to start. She flicked back to last summer and read through them, finding a lot of stationary and supplies, food, shoes, and clothing.
Then it was a charity. Was it asked to buy the stuff, or was it supplying it? It took her a while to figure out the pattern, but then it hit her. Way too many shoes were headed to Africa. She quickly highlighted every entry. And then every one listed as clothing. The figures were astronomical. Unless they were clothing thousands of people in a shelter or village, she didn’t understand how these numbers could be so high. They were listed as expenses, and that didn’t make much sense to her either because the company was running in the black. There were cheaper ways to buy things like this, she was sure.
As she searched for shipping and/or handling fees, something to ascertain that these products had actually been moved overseas to help somebody, she slowly got a picture of the company. Bringing up a webpage, she quickly researched the business, realizing they were indeed, digging wells, setting up schools, and supplying clothing to the villagers. They were proud of the fact they had put running water into four separate villages so far.
And everything made sense, except for the shoes. Every time she saw a picture of anybody at these villages, they were barefoot. On the other hand, most people wouldn’t even blink if they were sending shoes over because, of course, they went together with clothes—but really only to the Western way of thinking. Many people in Africa didn’t wear shoes by choice.
On a sheet of paper, she quickly jotted down some notes. The DA could easily ask for answers to some of these questions. As she kept searching through the months, going by location, most of the products had gone to the four villages. Which was all fine and dandy, but she didn’t understand where the money was coming from. All these charitable donations originated overseas, and most of them were labeled in code. Invoice numbers with a single letter behind them.
And a few of them were suspiciously familiar.
But when she went to the box, nothing backed up those single-letter references. There had to be another set of books or something that tracked all these invoices. Everything cross-referenced. Business was all about checks and balances. And if this charity went through an elaborate scheme to hide money, it sure as hell wouldn’t have done a sloppy job of it. Not at this level. She needed access to the bank’s program. But if the company was smart, they’d have used multiple banks. Sure enough, a few months later, invoices showed up.
She continued through six more months, but it was mostly a repetition of the previous ones. The company appeared to be buying shoes and clothing from those going out of business and shipping them to several villages. Which made sense as to the quantities purchased—but not for the prices paid—except by now they should have warehouses of merchandise somewhere. Were they planning on stockpiling for other villages? She shook her head. There had to be an easier way.
But it wasn’t her job to judge the validity of a company. Or how well it was run or the business practices behind it. All she knew was the banking program had been hacked and somehow involved this company.
As she moved forward within the books, she could see the company’s focus had changed. Instead of clothing, they now bought tools, seeds, and small equipment. She approved. Much better to allow the villagers to help themselves than to just keep doling out charity.
Slowly she gained an understanding of the company’s business practices.
When the hotel room door opened, she looked up with a start.
“Sorry it took so long,” he said. “I would’ve called, but they said ten minutes, and instead it was twenty.” He closed the door behind him and placed the bag on the bed. “They gave us several dishes and said we can make up individual plates.”
She carefully replaced the material in the box, followed by Rhodes’s laptop, and walked over to the bed. As she pulled out the dishes, the smell hit her. And that’s when she realized just how absolutely, horrifically hungry she truly was. She hated to say that even her fingers were trembling.
“What’s the matter?” He studied her with concern. He walked closer and picked up her hands, frowning. Then lifted one to his lips.
If he intended on that calming things down, well, it wasn’t helping. But she also wasn’t sure she wanted to move so fast. She’d been sucked into a whirlwind romance the last time. She wanted to go slow and make sure she knew who Rhodes really was. Attraction was one thing. But she didn’t want an affair. She was hoping for the whole shebang.
“I guess I’m just really hungry,” she said, loving the concern but not wanting him to worry. “And my blood sugar drops more and more lately, particularly if I don’t eat on time.”
“Are you diabetic?”
She laughed and pulled her hand free. “It’s more than likely my iron is low. The doctor said I am not taking care of myself.”
She sat down on the bed, grabbed a paper plate and dished up one-third of each of the three dishes. For the next ten minutes, there was silence as she ate. She lifted her head to see him thoroughly enjoying his meal too. He was an easy companion. Quick with decision-making, but happy to get her input, like dinner. “This is really tasty.”
He nodded. “It smelled wonderful when I walked in.”
“I just have no idea what it is.”
He laughed. “Well, obviously, it’s pasta. Some Italian-sounding name. But what I remember, they had roasted vegetables and a breaded meat.”
At that she laughed. “I figured that much by myself.”
He reached over, grabbed the receipt stapled to the paper bag and handed it to her. “Here, maybe it’ll make sense to you.
But the items were written in Italian. And not much of it made any sense. She tossed it on the bed and said, “Doesn’t matter. It’s delicious.”
“Did you find out anything while I was gone?”
“They made some bad business decisions early on. They should have warehouses full of clothes and shoes by this point, but finally they now supply tools for these villages they’re working with,” she said. “They brought in fresh water for the people and have been teaching them how to garden for themselves.”
“I approve of that.”
“I do too.”
“But what about warehouses full of clothes and shoes?”
“Honestly I have no idea. But they have all these purchases for them.”
“Let’s hope they were reasonably decent purchases, and they have handed them all out. What about income?”
“Most of it is donations. When the money comes in, and they have it sitting there, then they spend.”
“Well, that makes good business sense. Most of us can’t do it any other way.”
“Exactly. So far I’ve not seen anything terribly odd.”
“So that’s good then. Finish so we can go home.”
She shook her head. “Not quite.”
He lifted his head and stared at her. “Sorry?”
She glanced over at him. “It’s too clean.”
Chewing, he slowly lowered his plate and studied her face. “So you suspect something is wrong here?”
“Let’s just say I have questions. If the DA can get the answers, then potentially we’re in the clear.”
“If there’s no profit—which, from what I understand you’re saying, the money comes in, and they spend it all—so it goes out again.”
“I’m sure buying the farming tools is good, but I can’t guarantee what they’re listing is actually what they’re purchasing. Ten thousand shovels are listed in separate entries, but were that many picked up and delivered?”
“How big are the villages?”
“Isn’t that the question?” She smiled at him. “Ten thousand shovels isn’t a lot when you’re talking about several being outfitted. It all depends on what they were doing and the population of the able-bodied individuals in each. We don’t have facts and figures on the villages, and we don’t know if they are buying that many because they got a better deal, and they’ll always need them down the road.”
He nodded. “I can see what you mean. What about the owner?”
“Nothing. No dividends were paid to him, and he’s not withdrawing cash in any way, shape, or form.”
“So he’s clean. And that’s who the DA wanted you to find more information on?”
“Yes and no. How he made his money is something I’d like to know.”
“He shouldn’t be making it from a non-profit charity.”
“He probably draws a salary if he’s working for the charity full time. The statistics of what those CEOs earn running some of the major charities across the states are pretty scary. A lot of them are making seven figures.”
“That doesn’t sound very charitable to me,” he said with a frown.
“A lot of times the charity doesn’t get the money it needs. It’s too busy paying its staff.” She shook her head. “A couple employees in the lower salary range are making less than fifty thousand a year.”
“So they’re handling all this themselves from this end.”
“But I’m not seeing payments to any staff over in Ghana where the warehouses are. So, either they’re all volunteers, they’re dealing with another company. or are paying out cash. And maybe I need to access the banking software. They could be moving money that way in the background. Still, it gives me hope that we might leave tomorrow.”
He took another bite and nodded toward the rest of the food. “When we’re done eating, we can give the DA a call and see if he can get the answers for us.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I don’t want to return to his office. Something is wrong there, but I can’t put my finger on it. I just get nauseated and this closed-in feeling. I don’t know what the hell made me sick, but I’m really not signing up for more of that air.”
“And yet I wasn’t sick and neither Bobby nor Robert had any symptoms.”
She nodded. “I can’t explain it. But I had to listen to my own body.”
“It could be just a case of nerves,” he answered quietly. “Reminding you too much of your former job.”
She nodded and turned her attention back to her plate.
When they finished dinner and cleaned up, he pulled out his phone. “Robert, she’s gone through several months of the accounts and has a few questions. She can talk to you about them directly.” He handed the phone to Sienna.
In a businesslike voice, she brought up the few questions she had about the company books. When she was done, she said, “Other than that, I’m not seeing anything at this point. It lacks information. These are very simplistic books. Only two people work for the company, and the person you asked me to keep an eye out for, J. R. Wilson, is not mentioned in any way. Some odd things are going on in the way the charity is run, but nothing that references him.”
“I can call and get some of these questions answered,” he said, but his voice was distracted as if buried in work. “It might not be until tomorrow morning.”
“Let me know if you find anything else.”
When she hung up, she handed it back to Rhodes. “He wants me to keep looking.” She tapped the box and said, “I think Bullard should run this name for us. He could figure out if there’s any property in Africa registered in the charity or owner’s name, or even a family name.”
“You think he’s invested in Africa?”
“It would make sense, as that’s where his charities are operating. Not to mention the warehouses.”
“That’s a call I can make.” He opened his phone and said, “But I’ll do it outside.”
When he left again, she buried herself back in the laptop. The one thing about code she loved: everything was tracked.
*
“Bullard, see if you can find any information on a J. R. Wilson. He’s a person of interest on that banking fraud case. We’re currently in Dallas to see DA. Checking out the charity he owns and runs here.”
“Wellness for Everyone?” Bullard asked. “It’s always been a bit dodgy. One thousand and one charities are here, everyone supposedly wanting to help.” He paused then added, “But I can tell you that name comes with a warning.”
“So we do have the right man?”
“I’ll do some digging on this side, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”
Rhodes thought about that for a minute and said, “There was something in the early years about ordering clothes and shoes, but we’re talking about hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth.”
“It’s possible it’s legit,” Bullard said carefully. “But not very probable. There’s no point in buying clothes when a lot comes from the Western world and other countries for relatively small money, if not outright free. Just pay the shipping.”
“According to Sienna, it’s like they’re stockpiling warehouses full of them.”
“And if it is warehouses, it could be full of something completely different.”
“And then it stopped. Instead the company bought tools, farming equipment, things like that.”
“Which is what we would expect. And on the books it sounds like they had initial good intentions, making some bad decisions, and then quickly moved into an area more helpful for the people. But was it really clothing and shoes, or something else?”
“And of course we didn’t see any addresses where any of this stuff is stored.”
“Actually I think I have an idea about that. But no way in hell can you get a warrant to go in and look. Not there.” His voice slowed. “Given the connection, I think I’ll send somebody around to do it. If I thought guns were in those warehouses, I’d be all over it.”
After hanging up, Rhodes walked back into the hotel room to give an update, but instead of finding her back at work, it looked like she’d nodded off. Her eyes were closed, and her steady deep breathing came from her chest. “I’m not asleep,” she whispered. “Honest.”
He laughed. “Put it away. Tomorrow will come soon enough. We’re waiting on Bullard to get back to us.” He quickly explained their conversation.
She rolled over and stared at him. “It will be interesting to hear what he finds.” She closed the laptop, tucked it into the box, replaced all the papers and moved it to the hotel desk. Then she returned to the bed, folded back the covers and crawled under them.
“Aren’t you getting undressed first?”
“Too much work to do still,” she muttered. “Besides, I won’t get much sleep tonight. This is just a nap.”
“It’s almost nine o’clock. Better to sleep through the night.”
She frowned, and he could see the ideas warring in her expressive face. Finally, she threw back the covers and growled, “Fine.”
She grabbed her bag, pulled out some clothing in a small case and walked into the bathroom. When she returned fifteen minutes later, he was sitting on the bed with his laptop open, taking notes of what had happened during the day.
She was dressed in shorts and a tank top. She stumbled to the bed, threw herself under the covers, turned out the light on her side and muttered, “Good night.”
He grinned. He never thought he’d want somebody who was prickly, but he liked her just fine. More than actually. He’d hoped for a little more interaction tonight, but given her state and the fact he’d already gotten a terrific response from his earlier kiss, it wasn’t the time. … She had to move at the speed she was comfortable with. He wanted her for a long while, not just for a good time. But he hoped for plenty of those through the years too.
“If only Jarrod could see you now,” he muttered, laughing, but then remembered what her last lover had done to her. Well, he was no friend to betrayal, having experienced more of his own than he wanted to. But he’d made peace with it. Now he needed to help her do the same with hers.
“If you tell him, I’ll be in a shitload of trouble.”
“Would he really be upset?” Should he tell her about his conversation with her brother? Or wait until she was awake. The last thing he wanted to do was get involved in a discussion that would potentially upset her. She needed a good night’s sleep. Today had been tough enough on her. Besides, they had time. And the journey was all that much sweeter, knowing where they were going.
“No idea. Not ready to walk that direction. The less he knows, the better. Same for his job. If I don’t know he’s going out on dangerous missions, then I don’t worry. If he doesn’t think I’m involved in something that’ll mess up my life again, then he won’t worry. It’s a good deal all around.”
“It’s a bad one because it leaves you standing out in the cold alone.”
“I’m used to it.” On that note she pulled the blanket higher on her shoulders and sank deeper into the pillow. The conversation was over.