Strike Me Down - Mindy Mejia Page 0,24
them.”
Nora lifted an eyebrow at the bandages. “Big snake.”
“You have no idea.” Logan lifted her legs, flexing her feet and rolling her ankles. “The pavement wasn’t fun this morning. I’m going to have to find some softer routes to jog until they heal.”
Nora sat up so quickly her towel almost fell off. “There are miles of trails behind my house. Have you heard of Lebanon Hills? It’s beautiful and secluded and not that far from downtown. I run there after work and on weekends. If you want …” Her voice trailed off as she realized she’d been about to invite a client on a personal date, had—in fact—been bursting with the idea. The investigation hadn’t even begun and she was already on the verge of breaking her one cardinal rule.
Holding her towel, she stood and moved quickly to the door, making the steam churn. “I have to go. I’m actually quitting the gym for a while.”
“Why?”
Logan sat up, and it was amazing how fast the curves transformed into angles again. Her shoulders gleamed like they’d been sculpted from marble and heat. Nora didn’t know where to look. Her muscles tensed. She wanted to escape, but it would be disingenuous if she left without explaining.
“I’m Nora Trier. Have you heard of Parrish Forensics?”
Logan’s eyes narrowed, and Nora heard an intake of breath. Did Logan already know who she was? Had Gregg told her about Atlanta?
“You should have a nine o’clock meeting on your calendar.”
Logan stood up and crossed over to her. The camaraderie of a moment ago condensed into something much more dangerous. Logan’s hand closed over Nora’s on the door handle.
“Tell me about the meeting.”
Nora swallowed. “What do you know about the prize money?”
Logan took a step closer, but there was nowhere for Nora to back up.
“I know it’s not enough.”
* * *
There were no filing cabinets. That’s what Nora noticed two hours later as an executive assistant escorted the half dozen members of her team through the mostly vacant Strike offices. A low-slung living room set, framed with glossy-leafed plants where there should have been locked records. A sleek mahogany server room door with an embossed note that read, “Keep open for ventilation.” Screensavers that made her itch to bump the mice and see how much data sprawled behind the curtains.
Logan wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She’d left Nora standing in the steam room with dozens of questions swirling in her throat. Nora had tried finding Corbett to get his opinion on the bizarre exchange, but he wasn’t in his office yet or answering his phone. Her texts went unanswered. She felt off-balance, uneasy, until Mike’s voice echoed in her head from the other evening, saying she was the most independent woman in the world. Today she needed to prove him right.
Gregg greeted them in the conference room, dressed in an impeccable linen suit and vest, which stood in sharp contrast to the jeans and yoga pants scattered around the table. He’d briefed his team on the missing prize only moments ago, judging by the blind panic in the room.
“I don’t want to waste anyone’s time this morning. Your tournament starts tomorrow and the purse is gone.” She looked to each face in turn after the obligatory introductions. “Parrish Forensics has been hired to determine how the cash shortfall arose and, if possible, recover the funds.”
No one seemed to know how to respond. They stared at Nora with varying degrees of confusion and worry.
“Strike is a private company, fully self-determined. You answer to no one. This is both a strength and an incredible weakness.”
The Marketing Director made a poorly disguised noise of outrage and a paunchy man at the end of the table—the controller who’d apparently discovered the shortfall—shifted in his chair to the beat of a vein throbbing in his forehead. Nora slowed her rate of speech to that of a patient elementary school teacher.
“When you have no accountability to anyone—an independent board, or a bank, or shareholders—you lack the built-in checks of your system. Your controls may suffer, if indeed you had any controls in the first place, to prevent mismanagement or fraud.”
Anger built steadily around her, the pungent vibe of a room dying to prove her wrong. Sometimes opening meetings were too easy.
“Parrish isn’t here to dwell on those weaknesses or pursue any wrongdoers. Our assignment for the moment is simple: figure out which gap is large enough to swallow twenty million dollars.”
Gregg cleared his throat and addressed his people. “Before we go any further, I