Game Theory--A Katerina Carter Fraud Legal Thriller

by Colleen Cross

  Kat jumped as the outer office door scraped open.

  “Zachary—in here.”

  But it wasn’t Zachary. It was Hillary. Her stilettos clicked as she appeared in Kat’s office doorway. As much as Kat didn’t want to see Hillary, her reappearance at least meant Harry could be found. Now she could start the wheels in motion to curb Hillary’s financial abuse.

  “Hey, cuz.” Hillary pointed to the map and laughed. “Are you in kindergarten? Is this really what you do all day?”

  “Hillary, what are you doing here? Where’s Harry?” Kat stood and headed Hillary off at the map. She stood in front of it, holding her arm up to block Hillary from plucking a tack off the map.

  “Can’t I drop by for a visit without your stupid questions?” Hillary lifted her right foot and then the left, dusting the soles of her Gucci pumps with the palm of her hand. She grimaced as she wiped one palm against the other. “Don’t you ever clean in here?”

  “The janitor cleans every night.” She had to get rid of Hillary before Zachary arrived. The thought of Hillary crossing paths with any of her clients gave her the creeps. She was too manipulative and unpredictable.

  “Where’s your dad, Hillary?” She wouldn’t mention Harry’s house just yet. She couldn’t risk Hillary running off without disclosing Harry’s whereabouts.

  Hillary ignored her. “This office is filthy. And your furniture looks like thrift-store rejects. All this clutter.” She picked up the half-dozen magazines on the side table and tossed them into the trashcan. “No wonder no one takes you seriously.”

  “My office is fine. Where’s Harry?” Hillary had arrived less than a minute ago, and Kat’s stomach was already in a tight knot. She reminded herself that only one of them commanded six-figure retainers, and it certainly wasn’t Hillary. At least she earned her own keep. “I called him and he wasn’t home. He’s not answering his cell phone either.”

  She had a million other questions, like where the hell Hillary had been for the last ten years. But now wasn’t the time.

  “How would I know where Dad is? I’m not his keeper. He probably went shopping or something.”

  “Hillary, you know as well as I do he’s not shopping or at home. You were with him.” Was Hillary really that irresponsible, or was there something more at play? Anytime Kat gave Hillary the benefit of the doubt, it backfired. At any rate, she was certain Hillary’s reappearance wasn’t out of concern for Harry.

  “What makes you think he’s not home?” Hillary frowned and her face darkened.

  Kat motioned to the leather armchair. Confronting Hillary was futile, so she changed her tone. “Have a seat. You must be tired.”

  “You expect me to sit on that flea-infested crap?” Hillary smoothed her hair with a manicured hand. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s perfectly fine. But if you want to stand, suit yourself.”

  Hillary inspected Kat, taking in her clothing, hair and makeup. “You really should think about a makeover.” She grimaced. “Head to toe. Your wardrobe went out of style five years ago. How could you leave the house in that get-up? You seriously need an upgrade.”

  Kat said nothing and turned to the board. Hillary couldn’t stand to be ignored.

  “What are you doing with those thumbtacks?”

  “Just experimenting.” Kat glanced out the window. In mere minutes the sun had vanished, replaced by low clouds. Snowflakes swirled past the window and she could barely make out the North Shore across the water. Where the hell was Zachary?

  “Some experiment.” Hillary pulled hand sanitizer out of her purse and squirted a dollop onto her hand. She rubbed her palms together and stared at the map. “Hey, that’s the place you were hiding my dad.”

  “Hillary, cut it out. I wasn’t hiding him and you know it.”

  “Sure you were. Isn’t it near the place that Nobel economist guy disappeared?”

  “Fredrick Svensson?” Kat was shocked that Hillary had even heard of him.

  “Yeah, that guy. Pretty hot for an old guy.”

  Hillary’s hot scale was measured by net worth, not looks. “Whatever. He’s dead now.” Svensson had to be in his seventies.

  “Dead right. Never even knew what hit him.” Hillary laughed at her own joke.

  Enough. Kat was ready to explode. “Where is he?”

  “The Nobel guy? How the hell would I know?”

  “Harry, for crying out loud!” Kat massaged her temples, feeling the start of a headache coming on.

  Across the inlet, a second storm front was gathering in the direction of Hideaway Bay. Kat shivered despite her heavy wool sweater and tights. She had to leave soon or risk road closures. Jace’s truck sat parked outside, packed with warm clothes, outdoor gear, and whatever she thought she could possibly need.

  “Don’t get snarky, Kat.” Hillary pulled a nail file from her purse and began filing her nails. She pointed the nail file at Kat and narrowed her eyes. “Or have a breakdown. How should I know where he is?”

  “The last time I saw him he was with you. If Harry’s not with you, then where is he?”

  Hillary’s eyebrows arched and the corners of her mouth turned up in a smirk. “Calm down. What do you care? He’s my dad, not yours.”

  The words always stung, no matter how many times Hillary uttered them. The Dentons had legally adopted Kat when her mother died and her father left. Once Hillary realized the arrangement was permanent, she did everything she could to make Kat feel unwelcome.

  “Kat—it’s none of your business what Dad and I do.” Hillary pursed her lips. “Get over it.”

  “Oh, it’s very much my business.” Kat crossed her arms. “He’s not at home. He’s not with you and he’s not here with me. Wherever he is, he’s confused and lost. I’ve got a right to know.”

  “You don’t have a right to anything. Go find your own family to look after.” Hillary raised her hand to her mouth. “Oops, I forgot. You don’t have one.”

  “Hillary, Harry is my family too. I’m the one who’s been taking care of him while you’ve been away. You’ve been out of his life for years.”

  “That’s about to change.” Hillary scowled at Kat.

  The outer office door opened, and a few seconds later Zachary strode down the hall and into Kat’s office, talking into his cell phone. A light dusting of snow still coated the shoulders of his wool coat.

  Hillary’s jaw dropped and a smile slowly transformed her face.

  “Hello.” Hillary turned towards him and smiled, sucking in her cheeks. She scanned Zachary from head to toe, noting his tailored clothing, leather-soled shoes, and unencumbered ring finger.

  Kat watched dollar signs dance across Hillary’s field of vision.

  Zachary didn’t seem to hear Hillary. He stood transfixed in front of Kat’s television. New York protesters had blockaded Grand Central Station, demanding government intervention and lower food prices. The screen faded to a commercial and Zachary glanced over, noticing Hillary for the first time. He ended his call. “Sorry to interrupt. I didn’t see you there.”

  “No need to apologize.” Hillary stepped forward and held out her hand, palm down, as if she expected a prince to kiss it. “I just dropped by to see if I could take my cousin out for breakfast.”

  As if, Kat thought. Hillary’s act was reserved for men with benefits, whether cut-rate auto repairs or potential husband income streams. Men saw through it eventually—but only after Hillary had taken them for a ride.

  “Of course, if you two already have plans, I’ll come back another time.” Zachary smiled at Hillary, who now sat in the leather armchair. Apparently she had overcome her previous thrift-store objections.

  “No.” Kat waved her hand. She had to talk to Zachary pronto. “Hillary was just leaving.”

  Hillary crossed one leg over the other, allowing her skirt to ride up and show off some leg. She didn’t appear to be going anywhere.

  “Why don’t we all go for breakfast,” Zachary said. “We can discuss t
he case and eat at the same time.”

  Kat stood. This was quickly turning into a nightmare. She needed an hour with Zachary before leaving for Hideaway Bay, and the worsening snow lessened her chances of getting there every minute. Any more delays and she wouldn’t make it at all. “Hillary—can I call you later instead?”

  “Nonsense. She can join us.” Zachary motioned towards the hallway with his thumb.

  Kat had to get rid of Hillary. She couldn’t discuss the case or Jace’s fate in front of Hillary. She wasn’t sure exactly how, but Hillary was sure to use Jace’s disappearance against her. Why would Zachary even consider discussing his personal financial situation in front of Hillary, a stranger?

  She stopped in the doorway and faced Hillary. “I thought you were going to pick up your dad. Where is Harry, anyway?”

  “The old guy with the Lincoln?” Zachary asked. “He’s a bit confused, isn’t he? He shouldn’t be alone.”

  Hillary’s eyes narrowed.

  “I was just telling Kat that. Kat, where is he?” Hillary twirled her hair around her finger and raised her eyebrows at Kat, an expression of mock concern on her face.

  Kat pursed her lips and unclenched her fist. How could anyone not see right through her? “I thought you were picking him up. Where did you say you left him?”

  Hillary glared at Kat. “At the seniors’ center. I was just headed over there.”

  “That’s what I thought.” At least Hillary was forced to behave in front of Zachary.

  “I’ll be back right after lunch.” Hillary smiled at Zachary.

  Just enough time for Kat to brief Zachary and get on the road to Hideaway Bay.

  Chapter 46

  Kat glanced out her office window, impatient and frustrated at her lack of progress. Snow blanketed the city once again, and still Zachary wouldn’t budge.

  “Let’s hold off reporting anything, Kat. I know I can make back most of the money back.”

  Zachary remained convinced his trading model was infallible. “What are you going to trade with, Zachary? There’s no money.”

  “I’ve got connections—people that will lend me funds. Enough to make some trades and recover some of the losses.” Zachary dropped her report on top of the stack of folders on her desk. As he did, the pile slid, sending several of them to the floor.

  Zachary bent to pick them up.

  Kat waved him away. “I’ll get it later.” She stood. “What about the investors, Zachary? It’s their money. Don’t they deserve to know about the fraud?”

  He stood. “Sure they do—but I’ll recover their losses before they even know about it. It’s in their best interests, even if they don’t realize it yet. I’ll get the money back and they’ll never even know there was a problem. Just a few good trades and things will be back to normal.”

  Whatever normal was. Amazing what people will do on a sinking ship. “No, Zachary. You have to shut it down.”

  “Kat, you said yourself we’re missing some of the proof. If we alert Nathan without proof, won’t it jeopardize the case? He could make a run for it before the authorities have enough evidence to arrest him.”

  Zachary was right. Waiting also meant she might be able to recover Nathan’s missing World Institute agenda and her backup documents. If she found Jace and he happened to still have them. It was unlikely at best. And—it just felt wrong to not immediately disclose the wrongdoing.

  On the other hand, it was still an active investigation, and if Nathan and whoever else were prosecuted, she’d better have her ducks in a row. Right now that wasn’t the case. And closing in now could somehow worsen Jace’s situation, whatever that was. It also gave her more time to search for Jace. If she could find him.

  She sighed and bent to pick up the files. Why did Zachary have to push the limits? She supposed it was why he was so rich. And relentless.

  Her hand felt something rigid in the gutter of one of the Edgewater folders. She opened the folder to find a bundle of credit cards, held together with an elastic band. In her haste she hadn’t noticed them before. She undid the elastic that bundled them and examined the top card. No name. She shuffled through the rest. They were exactly the same—prepaid credit cards. Just like the one she had found in the housekeeper’s uniform at Hideaway Bay. Was there a connection?

  Two hours later Kat was finally on the road. She drove north towards Hideaway Bay, thankful for the truck’s four-wheel drive. Deep ruts had formed in the snowpack on the highway, and the snow fell heavier now, reducing visibility to a few feet in front of her.

  Traffic then slowed to a crawl en route to the ferry, and she missed the sailing. She was lucky to get on the next one. Once across, she followed the crowd exiting the ferry until the turnoff for Hideaway Bay.

  Here the traffic was nonexistent. Despite the unplowed roads and low visibility, she felt much safer driving with no other cars on the road. She relaxed her hands on the steering wheel and bit into an apple. She glanced at the rearview mirror and spotted a snowplow round the corner a few hundred feet back. It was the only other vehicle she had seen since the turnoff.

  Her biggest worry was the limited time until nightfall. Daylight disappeared around four p.m. this time of year. That gave her only a few hours to search for Jace on the trails. He might have hurt himself and fallen off the trail. She shivered. If he had, chances of survival in the frigid temperatures would be slim to none after a couple of hours.

  Kat’s thoughts drifted back to Svensson and his speech in Stockholm. The snowplow was about fifty feet back now, growing larger in the rearview mirror.

  Svensson had changed his views from one global currency to the status quo of many sovereign currencies. Why would Nathan Barron find issue with that? Exploiting differences between the various currencies was how Nathan Barron, and Edgewater, made money. The World Institute’s goal of one global currency actually killed his business rather than helped it. Which begged the question: why Nathan would even join an organization that thwarted his financial ambitions?

  She was certain both Svensson’s murder and Jace’s disappearance were connected to the World Institute and Nathan Barron.

  Was the woman standing with Svensson really Angelika, the housekeeper? A more logical explanation was that the woman was a look-alike. After all, she had been standing behind Svensson and slightly in the shadows. Of all the billions of people on the planet, there were likely a few doppelgangers. Or was it too coincidental?

  Kat glanced at the rearview mirror. The snowplow was right on her bumper, the driver probably anxious to finish work and get home. Kat gripped the steering wheel, not wanting to go any faster but feeling the pressure. There was nowhere to pull over. A sheer rock face to her right and, across the oncoming lane, a steep drop-off to the water below. Couldn’t he just pass her? There was no traffic coming the other way.

  Suddenly the snowplow tapped her bumper.

  She lurched forward. The apple slipped from her grasp and tumbled off the passenger seat onto the floor. She gripped the steering wheel, heart pounding. The seat belt tightened across her chest as she fought to pull the truck out of a skid. The snowy highway was too dangerous a place for reckless games. The driver’s actions were nothing short of suicidal on this winding stretch of road in a snowstorm. What the hell was he doing? Was he asleep at the wheel? She glanced in the mirror, but the truck’s cab was too high to see the driver.

  She’d get his license plate number and report him. The resort was another ten minutes away—the first opportunity to pull off the road. She pulled the seat belt off her chest and exhaled. The snowplow backed off slightly, giving her a view of the cab. This time she could make out the driver, but only barely. A slight man, or teen maybe? A baseball cap covered his eyes.

  The gap closed. The snowplow rear-ended the truck bumper again, harder this time.

  Her truck fishtailed. She headed across the opposing lane. Instinct kicked in and she hit the brakes. She knew it was a mistake even before her foot fully pressed the pedal.


  Chapter 47

  The snowplow sideswiped the truck box, sending it skidding sideways across the highway. Kat gripped the steering wheel as Jace’s truck tipped and careened onto two wheels. It teetered momentarily before smashing back down onto all fours. Kat’s neck whipped back from the force. Again her foot searched for the brake pedal. But it was futile.

  The truck skidded into a 180, pulling Kat into its vortex as shades of white spun by the windshield. She lurched forward, hitting her forehead on the rearview mirror. A split-second later, the seat belt tightened and pulled her back into her seat.

  The plow backed up and accelerated again. It slammed against the truck, shattering the windshield. Kat bounced back and forth before lurching to a stop, tilted down on the driver’s side. Kat peered through the side window. She was perched precariously against the guardrail. One more hit and she’d be over the edge in a 300-foot freefall to the bottom of the canyon.

  She braced herself for another hit as her stomach churned.

  Nothing.

  Kat loosened the seat belt and listened. She slid over to the passenger side. The truck creaked and the apple rolled to the far corner of the floor.

  Silence.

  The truck had stalled from the impact.

  She searched for the snowplow through the cracked windshield.

  She saw nothing.

  Nothing at all. Just white snow, falling.

  Muffled silence.

  She turned around in her seat and searched for the plow out the rear window.

  Gone.

  Nothing but her, the truck, and a bent guardrail holding her back from a plunge off the rocky cliff.

  She inched her body back into a forward position slowly, feeling the truck settle against the guardrail metal.