Page 82 of Paternal Instincts
“We’re not discussing feelings, Quaid. I don’t do that.”
“God forbid you have an emotion. Did you get a say at all in the girl’s names?”
“I had veto power.” He nodded to the computer screen. “I found something interesting. You ready?”
I focused on the monitor, unsure what I was looking at.
Costa explained. “Old man Benny is in a financial pickle. Considering he spent over thirty years as a well-paid lawyer, it’s surprising. It looks like he burned through his retirement savings at a fantastic rate of speed, and a great deal of it was paid to Imogen. Look at this.” Costapointed. “He gets nominal pay from his shares in Nixon’s company. Not enough to keep him afloat, but you can see the income here. Starting about two years ago, another payment starts trickling in with a similar code.” He indicated several additional payments. “They get more substantial and regular. Not a lot, but a couple of thousand a month. Wanna bet they originate from NexGen?”
“You’re saying Benedict is the one embezzling funds?”
“I’ll have to dig deeper into that code, but I bet I’m right.”
“Can you tell when he started paying Imogen?”
Costa grew quiet for a long moment, clicking and flipping through windows, scrolling long lines of text that made no sense to me before shaking his head. “Can’t go back that far. It would be more than seven years. That’s all I can tell you. He’s got some credit problems, too. His debt is piling up, and—”
Costa’s phone vibrated on the desk. An image of his girls filled the screen. He cursed under his breath and hesitated.
“Take it.”
He answered as I checked to see if Aslan had texted. It was long past nine. Nothing.
I texted him.
Quaid: Any luck?
His response came immediately.
Aslan: I think we’re SOL tonight. I’m leaving them for Madison to sign in the morning. Heading back to you.
Quaid: Head home. I’ll meet you there shortly. I think we need to call it.
I earned a kissy-face emoji followed by a heart.
Costa chatted quietly with his wife for a few minutes, a mixture of apologies and empty promises. Guilt swamped me. When he expressed uncertainty about when he’d be home, I touched his arm. “Go,” Iwhispered. “It’s getting late, and we aren’t going to make any more progress tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Go see your girls, Costa. They need you.”
He bumped his knee with mine in silent thanks and told Tia he was leaving. They hung up, and my best friend took a second to evaluate me. It wasn’t often his expression was unguarded or showed concern. “Get some sleep tonight. You’re looking rough.”
“I will.”
“I’m serious, Quaid.”
I resisted pointing out his protective nature. It would only serve to make him shut down. “You too. I’ve run you ragged all weekend.”
“I can take it.” He punched the power buttons on his monitors, collected his belongings, and we headed to the elevators together.
I left him on the ground level and rode to the fourth floor, finding Jordyn at her desk, buried in work. “Go home. Aslan failed his mission. No warrants tonight.”
I told her about Costa’s discovery with Benedict’s accounts, and she scrubbed her face as it sank in. “He ticks a lot of boxes.”
“Tomorrow.”
She looked as worn out as I felt and didn’t argue, packing up and heading home.
