Layers: Book One (6 page)

“Exactly. Not only do you get rid of the evidence, you also get rid of the person that discovered said evidence.”

“I guess.”

I shrug. “Okay, read the e-mail correspondence, then look at the date.”

He reads it, and then looks up. “Okay.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s a confirmation of a wire transfer that you allegedly made to an account in Belize.”

“And the date?”

“January eighth.

“On January fifth I found some disturbing inaccuracies with some past outside audits. I documented these, then sent an e-mail of my findings to the person in charge of outside audits.”

“Will Harris.”

“Yeah, Will Harris. I’m guessing that he didn’t meet with you or send you a report about the inaccuracies.”


“No.” He rubs his temples. “I’m still confused as hell, and what does Will have to do with any of this?”


I exhale. “Do you remember the Smith and Holt Pharmaceutical merger?”

“Yes, of course I remember. It was a complicated mess; blocked access to all of Holt’s accounts, Smith withholding critical FDA reports.”

“A complicated mess??”
I smirk. “More like a complete disaster. Anyway, as procedure, when I have limited or blocked access to information I make comparisons with similar past audits. Finding no similar audits in-house I then looked into past outside audits. While making comparisons I noticed inaccurate or altered data on several audits. This was concerning, but what really caught my eye was a repetitive pattern. Whenever you see any kind of repetitive pattern, red flags go up.”

“But, all outside audits are monitored.”

“Yes, I know. And who monitors them?”

“Will Harris.” He huffs. “So you’re saying that Will set you up for embezzlement over some inaccuracies in some outside audits? Even for you this seems bizarre.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That you sometimes think a little too far out of the box.”

“Whatever.”

“Alexia, it just seems extreme.”

“Yeah, I agree, but let’s look at the facts. I make a report of my findings and concerns then e-mail it to Will. The day after I sent this report I’d allegedly made an inquiry about transferring funds to Belize. Then he personally made a trip to my office. Will has never come to my office, which in itself wouldn’t be a big deal, but he was angry and nervous and adamant about me discontinuing any further inquiries.”

“He said it was his responsibility and his alone. I though his behavior was odd because wouldn’t you be grateful that someone caught something you missed and they came to you first with this information? He was anything grateful. He was pissed.”

“We didn’t find any report or information about this on your hard drive.”

“Really
? And this surprises you? The report was there when I left for my vacation. The whole thing seemed off to me so I’d made a note to follow up when I returned from vacation but…”

“But, you never got a chance.”

“No, I never got a chance, but it’s here.” I tap my noggin and lift a brow. If it’s a number, I’ll remember it even If I don’t want to. Some people call this a gift—I call it a curse.

“Yes, of course it is.” He smiles.

“Will would have already covered his tracks and erased or altered the numbers but it might still give you some insight on what to look for.”


He gets up and sits behind his desk. “Alexia I’m having a hard time believing Will is behind any of this. He’s been with the company for twenty years. He’s a family friend and a fraternity brother of my father’s. I just…”

“Yeah I get it, you’re conflicted, but he has motive, access and is more than capable of pulling it off.”

“It still seems like overkill to me. Embezzlement?”

“Jaxson, if my suspicions about the outside audits are correct, you’re looking at more than twenty-million in losses. I only looked at a few audits out of hundreds. If Will has been overseeing outside audits since the beginning, then you could be looking at hundreds of millions in losses. Twenty-million doesn’t seem like a large amount in comparison.”

“I don’t know Alexia.”


I walk over to his desk and pull up a chair. I need him to see that I get it.

“Jaxson, if anyone has felt the sting of betrayal it’s me. It burns right through your gut then stabs your heart. But I know in my gut he set me up. You said it seemed extreme and it does. Why didn’t he just get me fired somehow? I probably never would have tied him to it. But the entire company knows how you feel about me, and in lurid detail.”

He gives me
The Brow
and I look away for a few seconds.

“Will knew he couldn’t just get me fired, you wouldn’t have allowed it.

He needed to create a situation where you wouldn’t have all the say or the control. So he set me up. Now all I have to do is prove it.”

Three days later I’m showing my trashed loft to my friend, Jules.

We stumble our way through the entry hall and enter the main living area.

Jules gasps. “Holly hell! It looks like a tornado came barreling through, or a bomb exploded.”

I wave of emotions breaks over me, and then settles in my gut. I have to bite down hard on my lip to keep the queasiness at bay.

Jules puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to be sick?”

I release my lip and slowly exhale. “I was earlier when I came through with the insurance adjuster. The damage is overwhelming but it’s the sense of being violated that makes me nauseous.”

“How long were you gone last night?”

My head is pounding, and as I rub my temples seeking relief I go over my night out with my friend, Marco and his husband Henry. “Four hours, tops. I met Marco and Henry at the restaurant, we had dinner then we met up with some of their friends for a nightcap.”

My loft is about forty five hundred square feet and there isn’t more than a couple of hundred feet that hasn’t been damaged. The kitchen, dining and living areas share the main space. There are two bedroom suites that are divided from the main area by a brick wall.

Jules stops and picks up a damaged painting. “Oh look what they did to the painting Marco gave you for Christmas last year. It’s been slashed.”

Jules and I look at what remains of an abstract painting of a man with three heads and five penises.

I take it from her and rotate it. “I really hated it. I told Marco I loved it, and I got it, but I lied my ass off. He so knew.”


Jules gives it further study. “I really liked it and I think I got it.” She brushes a hand over the only remaining intact abstract penis. “Yeah, I think I get it.” She purrs.

I roll my eyes and we walk on.

“So you think the embezzlement set up is connected to this mess?”

“Yeah. It has to be.”

“But doesn’t trashing your loft make you look less guilty—more the victim?”

“Yeah. I don’t get that part either.”

We walk over slashed couch cushions, broken glass tables and spray-painted area rugs. When we enter the master bedroom we stop and look at a wall.

“Lovely graffiti.” Jules chuckles.

“DIE CONT!” I say out loud.

“What do you think, spray can mishap or public school educated?” Jules says sarcastically.

“It’s a toss-up.”

We continue to take in the damage. I wonder if a good cry will do me any good. I decide not then look up again at the painted slur on the wall.

“I hate the word
cunt.
It’s demeaning and crude.”

Jules rolls her eyes at me. “Are you not a founding member of the Potty Mouth Club?”

“Most likely the vice president, but I never say cunt.”


“Cunt is okay with me, but I prefer pussy.”

I think for a minute. “Pussy is okay I guess. Why not vagina? That’s what it is.”

“Really?” Jules gives me a
what the fuck
look.

She moans dramatically. “Oh God yes—yes, eat my vagina. Oh baby I’m going to fuck that tight vagina!” She raises a perfectly shaped brow. “I’m all kinds of turned on, are you?”


“All right. I get it. It’s a turn off.”

I walk into the adjoining master bath. It’s a colossal mess. After a minute it’s just too much, so I exit and shut the door. As the door shuts it proceeds to fall off its hinges and into the shower. If your home has ever been destroyed or violated, I feel for you. I get it. It sucks big time.

My eyes begin to cloud over. I wipe them with the back of my hand then join Jules as she walks into the closet.

She flips on the light.

I wrinkle my nose. “Do you smell that?”

“Yeah, it smells like urine.” She plugs her nose.

I look down and see a large yellow stain on the carpet. “Some fucktard pissed in my closet.” Now this is low even for home trashers. God I hope no one shit in my pantry.

I step over the stain and rummage through a pile of spray-painted clothes. There isn’t a stitch of clothing salvageable. Jules walks to the shelves that once held my shoes.

She shakes her head and cries out. “Oh my God, look at your Louis Vuitton’s! They’ve been de-heeled!” She kneels and picks up a nine hundred dollar pair of heelless Louis. She bows her head—I don’t quite catch it—but I think she recited the Lord’s Prayer.

“Are you going to be okay, Jules?”

She takes a cleansing breath. “Who would dare do this? It’s a travesty! Works of art…every one of them—now look at them.”

I look down at all my ruined Nike runners and Converse high-tops. They’ve all been colorfully spray-painted. I close my eyes and recite my own prayer.

“Alexia!” We hear Jaxson shout.

“We’re in here!” I shout back.

A couple of minutes later I watch Jaxson stumble his way into my once beautiful bedroom. Just before he reaches me he catches his shoe on some torn bedding and almost face-plants. Even in my distraught state I want to laugh. I rarely see him do anything clumsy. I find it oddly sexy. I know, I’m fucked up.

“Holy shit!” He spouts as he rights himself. “You weren’t exaggerating. This is crazy trashed.”

I answer with a shoulder shrug.

He looks over at the wall with the misspelled expletive. “DIE CONT.” He reads out loud. “A total idiot or a woman?”

“What? A woman?”

He gives me the
where you born yesterday
look?

“Alexia, every guy knows how to spell cunt.”

I roll my eyes and begin to make my way out of the bedroom and back toward the kitchen area. Jaxson follows me in stunned silence. A minute later Jules joins us carrying a pair of de-heeled Louis.

“Jules.” Jaxson greets her with a nod.

She gives him a
don’t bug me— I’m in mourning
look. Like I mentioned before—they have issues. Jules loves to freak him out, and he loves reminding her that he thinks she’s a freak.

He ignores her and walks toward me. “Alexia, do the police have any suspects?”

“I’m afraid not,” I say as I wipe a tear from my cheek.

I walk into the pantry and step on a crushed box of Cheerios and what I think is pancake mix. Food is everywhere, even the canned goods were opened and their contents thrown about. I find one intact bottle of water. I open it and down half of it hoping to clear the lump that is lodged deep in my throat.

Jaxson puts his arms around me. “I’m sorry, Alexia.”

I shrug and I plant my forehead into his chest. God he smells like heaven. And when he holds me it always feels like…home.

“I feel like I’ve failed you again” he says and pulls me tighter into his chest. “I know you think Will is responsible for this mess, but why? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.” I say into his lapel. I pull out of his embrace and walk toward the entry.

Jaxson follows with a heavy frown.

“You look worried,” I say.

“Of course I’m worried. My God look at this place!”

He runs his hand though his hair and despite the current circumstance it turns me on. God I need to get some.

“Jaxson this isn’t your fault.”

He rolls his shoulders. “Please tell me what I can do.”

“Nothing,” I say with a frown. I’ve taken care of everything. The insurance claims adjuster came this morning and filed all the necessary claims.”


“Security?” he asks.

“Done. New metal doors with code pads, surveillance cameras, all new window and door sensors, the works.”

“Are you staying with Jules?”


I nod and wipe away another fat tear off my cheek. “I’m jobless and homeless.” I pout as my tears flood over.

“It’s temporary Alexia. You’ll get your job back and this mess will be made right.”