Calculated Risk. Heather Woodhaven

about his personal life. I heard rumors about a rich wife, but that’s just hearsay. He lives in a beautiful minimansion, but there weren’t any family photographs. Although, to be fair, it isn’t that out of the ordinary—my family never hung up any photographs either.”

      Victoria traced the lid of her cup. “Sounds odd to me. I don’t think I’ve been in a family’s home that hasn’t had photographs on display.”

      He tilted his head from side to side. “Well, I acknowledge that my family is a bit odd.”

      Victoria wanted to ask a follow-up question about his family but wanted to avoid anything personal.

      Jeff rubbed his chin. “Okay, forget Wagner. Let me try to think like the FBI will. Why didn’t you go to the audit committee when you first suspected something amiss?”

      “The audit committee? The one made of board members?”

      “Yes.”

      “I think you just answered your own question. We don’t have a whistle-blower policy in place and—”

      “Victoria, it’s federal law. You can’t be penalized if you—”

      “You don’t need to tell me that, Jeff. I’m an accountant.” She took a deep breath. He’d asked her not to get defensive, and instead she snapped at him. If she wanted to keep him on her side, she needed to tame the emotional roller coaster. “There is no policy in place that allows employees to contact the board members without getting the attention of other people who might be behind fraud.”

      “Because you have to go through the chain of command to contact the board members,” he mused aloud. Jeff tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “If you’re right, then what makes you think the board isn’t behind this?”

      “Have you seen the list of members? They’re all former presidents of Fortune 500 companies. Not a single one of them would need to risk jail to get the kind of money we’re talking.” She pointed to her red purse. “Our management team has more motive. The CEO, CFO, COO...”

      “We have way too many COs.”

      “And four vice presidents,” she finished. “They could easily have a hand in this, but I think this type of fraud would require a department head on the inside to get the job done. Someone like Wagner.”

      Victoria’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it. “That’s my reminder alarm. My appointment is in fifteen minutes. How far away is the Federal Building?”

      He put a hand on his chest. “I believe you, but I didn’t get a chance to look at the report long enough to fully corroborate your story. So, if the authorities aren’t willing to give you protection tonight, I think you better plan to stay at a hotel.”

      “Oh, but my neighbor—”

      “Your neighbor is too easy to target. Just like you were in your house. I think you should get some cash from an ATM. Then you can stay at a hotel, without credit cards.”

      She closed her eyes. What kind of hotel would let you check in with cash? A dive, that’s what. A yawn escaped her. An unbidden image of her home, then her bedroom, flashed in her mind. She took another sip of coffee and closed her eyes to keep the tears from escaping. She cleared her throat. “What about you? They know where you live now.” Her breath shuddered. Also her fault.

      “I might stay at a friend’s or do the same as you. We’ll see how this meeting goes.”

      Victoria mentally calculated the cost of a hotel. Thankfully, payday had only been last Friday. Yet she couldn’t count on getting a paycheck next week if her job was in question. Jeff took a sharp turn to the right, then did another visual sweep.

      He pointed ahead. “An ATM.” He drove into the entrance of the drive-up ATM the wrong way so that Victoria would be within arm’s reach of the machine. She leaned out the window, slid in the bank card and entered the security code. It’d be wise to double-check her balance before cashing out a large amount. By now, all her monthly scheduled bill payments should’ve been withdrawn. She pressed the button to see her balance. Her mouth went dry. The numbers on the screen were shocking: $257,420.

      She flung a hand to her mouth. How? A burning in the pit of her stomach prompted her eyes to well with tears. Whoever was behind the fraud—behind the fire and explosion—had done this. How would anyone believe her now? She couldn’t face the FBI with nothing but seeming proof that she was the culprit, the embezzler.

      She sank back down into her seat and dropped her head into her hands.