Page 9 of Their Last Resort

Instead, I pull up a fresh Excel spreadsheet. A little zing of excitement trickles down my body. I do love a fresh spreadsheet.

Before I do anything, I save it to a restricted, password-protected folder. It’s not that Todd would ever think to snoop around in my office, but I prefer to be as careful as possible, especially if I’m planning to go up against my boss.

It’s the only path forward and something I would have done soon even if he hadn’t threatened Paige. For a while now, I’ve suspected that Todd mightnotbe one hundred percent squeaky clean. It’s a hunch, a wild one. There have been whispers around the hotel. Rumors about Todd’s worsening gambling addiction, the time he asked the accounting department if they could pay him in all cash instead of depositing his paycheck directly into his bank account like normal. I haven’t put much stock into any of it, but I’ve tucked each rumor away in my arsenal, just in case.

I’d love nothing more than to pick up my phone right now and call our CEO, Scott Durliat. Unfortunately, if I rat out Todd at this point, I fear I’ll wind up looking like nothing beyond an insubordinate tattletale. Everything I have on Todd is based on rumor, not fact. He’s done nothing wrong that I can prove,yet. Furthermore, given how obvious I’ve been about my intentions and ambitions with this company, Scott could take it the wrong way, as if I’m merely gunning for Todd’s job.

I know I need to act fast, but I don’t want to rush and ruin this opportunity to save Paige from the chopping block.

There are several ways I could investigate Todd’s dealings with the company, but most of them require access to accounts and files not at my disposal. I’m sure if I could gain access to Todd’s office and log on to his computer, all his wrongdoings would be right there, dumbly saved in his internet’s browser history. I know he’s not smart enough to wipe that stuff. He once asked me the difference betweenCcandBccin an email.

I drum my finger on my desk, trying to come up with a brilliant plan that doesn’t involve any breaking and entering. It can’t be all that difficult to outsmart Todd. I just have to be savvy about it. I have to use the tools at my disposal.

I could plant a bug in his office (surely they sell those on Amazon), but what would I do with twelve hours of audio consisting of Todd cycling through a series of burps and farts and grunts? How would that possibly be helpful?

Right. Let’s see. If the gambling rumors are true, he could be strapped for cash. I could call his bank and try to gain access to his accounts, but that’s illegal and highly suspect. I wouldn’t know the answer to any of his security questions, anyway.

Think, Clark.

WhatdoI have access to?

Inspiration strikes like a bolt of lightning. I grab my desk phone and hurriedly dial the extension for the accounting department before I’ve even fully formulated my plan.

Someone answers on the second ring. “This is Connie speaking.”

Connie.I was hoping she’d pick up. Connie Phillips is a pipsqueak of a thing, no taller than five feet, with coke-bottle glasses and a wobbly voice. She’s been with the company for ten years and she’s a great accountant, but because she’s so quiet, she’s been largely overlooked for promotions. A few months ago, I tried to remedy that by awarding her with a substantial raise in line with the amount of years she’s remained loyal to the company. Though the raise was long overdue, I still remember the tears welling up in her eyes when I shared the good news withher. I’d had no idea what to do and settled on a stiltedThere, therepat on her shoulder. Hopefully I’m still in her good graces, because I have a big ask.

“Connie, hey. This is Cole Clark. How are you? Good? Good. Could you do me a favor?” I don’t pause to wait for a reply. I can’t let her refuse me. This is all I’ve got. “I’m running numbers on my end, just going through some budgetary items, and I need you to provide me with last year’s expense reports.”

She stutters with her reply. “A-all of them? Sir, that’s—”

“All of them. From every department.” My tone implies there’s no room for negotiating.

There’s a pregnant pause where she’s likely resigning herself to her fate.

“It’ll take me a few days to get you copies ...,” she says, already sounding weary about the task ahead of her.

“That’s fine. Could you get it to me by Friday?”

“I . . . I’ll try.”

“Great.” I’m about to hang up before I remember to add, “And Connie?”

“Yes?”

“I really appreciate it.”

Chapter Four

PAIGE

I’m fully aware that the literal translation of our hotel name (Sleep Beach) does little to arouse fantasies of an exciting tropical vacation, but that doesn’t seem to deter the gobs of pasty tourists from passing through our lobby day after day.

New characters erupt daily from the bowels of docked cruise ships. Batches of lanyarded convention goers arrive en masse. Each week brings a fresh horde of corporate tech bros or niche hobbyists. Last week there was the bridal and wedding expo where I watched grown women go to blows over thepossibilityof winning a free bridal gown from two seasons ago. Bathrooms were overflowing with crying bridesmaids that had been excommunicated and cut from weddings for such offenses as disagreeing with the bride or asking if they couldmaybe,just possibly, take a break for a late lunch since they’d been going nonstop since 8:00 a.m. “Where’s your loyalty, Marie?! I told you to pack a protein bar!”

This week it’s the Nifty after Sixty dating event. Next week it’s my personal favorite: the doomsday preppers convention. I’m counting down the days. I’ll be surprised if I can sleep before then.

It’s Tuesday evening, a few days after the bonfire. I’m in one of Siesta Playa’s ballrooms hosting a luau-themed bingo night for a roomfull of eager participants who range in age from 60 to 102. The number of medical devices and implants in this room would short-circuit a metal detector.

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