Page 62 of Behind These Four Walls
Chapter Forty-Nine
Isla entered the Corrigan Group office building and was led to Victor’s office by Victor’s executive assistant, who was already aware of the visit and was waiting at the security station when Isla arrived at the downtown office. Isla thought it would be “a day in the life of.” What she got was a war room.
“How the hell did she get company information?” Victor bellowed.
Isla hesitated in the doorway, a flash of fear running through her, afraid that Victor was speaking about her. She’d been exposed, and this would be it for her, and the cops weren’t far behind.
Dixon looked up from his phone. It was the first time she’d ever seen his eternally businesslike demeanor replaced by one that was flustered and nervous. He ignored Victor’s rapid-fire questions and his commands.
“Get those boys in here. And Myles. Now!” Victor seemingly said into the air, or to Dixon, until she saw the steady red light of his phone indicating he was on a call. Victor mashed his finger on a button, ending the call.
Dixon held a remote, pointing it to one of the two large-screen monitors mounted on the wall across from Victor’s massive desk. The screen flickered on to a special news report that then cut back to the anchor desk of a national news network. Isla didn’t wait to be kickedout or invited in; she made the decision herself as she read the breaking news scrawling across the screen and relaxed. She’d showed up at the right time after all.
Isla was rapt with attention as she watched Matthew Leonard’s widow, Maia, clutching their infant daughter. Her tear-streaked face was raw with anguish. Her eyes flashed with fire.
“I received an email with proof,” Maia Leonard choked out, bouncing her daughter. “Proof that my husband was framed for stealing from his company. Matthew didn’t steal a cent. Do you understand? My husband’s gone because someone else let him take the fall. As soon as I saw the documents, I had to speak out.”
The reporter asked, “Why did you reach out to the station instead of the authorities?”
“Because,” she railed, “we’re talking about the Corrigan Group. There’s no telling who’s in their pocket, and the world needs to know about their underhanded dealings.”
Good for her,Isla thought, crossing her arms over her chest. She wiped the satisfaction from her face that she had made the right decision in sending the documents to Maia and leaving her with the decision of what to do about them. Isla was even impressed that the national station had picked up the story, but then she remembered everything Corrigan-related was national news.
The image shifted back to the news desk, where the anchor picked up the story. “Matthew Leonard, former accountant for the LA branch of the Corrigan Group, took his life six months ago after being terminated from the company amid allegations of a misappropriation of funds. At the time, the evidence against him showed funds from company accounts tracing back to Leonard, but today’s revelation is a challenge to that conclusion. Mrs. Leonard claims that the documents she received via an anonymous source are proof that Leonard’s name falsely appeared on the financial records. The question that CEO and CFO Victor Corrigan of the Corrigan Group will have to answer remains: Who truly has their hands in the cookie jar?”
Victor banged his fist on his desk. “A goddamn whistleblower! Is my company at a point where there need to be whistleblowers?”
Dixon’s only response was to have none. Likely the best response. The receptionist, who had entered the office when she heard Victor, scurried back out to avoid his wrath.
That the guilty parties’ names hadn’t been released to Maia was Isla’s gift to the Corrigans, though she wasn’t sure why she’d withheld what she had. She had no allegiance to them. Yet she found herself protecting them as well. She was a hypocrite, becoming more like the kind of people she detested. Isla had squirreled herself into a corner of the huge corner office with a magnificent view of downtown Charlottesville to keep out of sight and out of mind.
The report ended, and the office descended into stifling silence as Dixon tapped furiously on the laptop he had set up on the small round glass table. Victor sat in his chair, seething. His jaw clenched. Isla expected him to explode but was proven wrong, when instead Victor’s voice came out eerily calm. “How did his wife get this information? I thought you, Myles, and I, who I tasked to investigate it, were the only ones privy to it.”
Dixon multitasked, his fingers still flying. “That’s what we’re going to find out. Everyone is already en route to discuss.”
“And Bennett and Danny?”
Dixon replied, “On their way.”
“This is their goddamn mess. How many more times do I have to clean up their bullshit before they stop fucking up?”
Isla hadn’t expected the wave of disappointment she felt upon hearing Victor’s admission. She had hoped he hadn’t known it was them. And it certainly didn’t sound like the first time he’d shielded them from any accountability.
Isla ventured to speak from her little corner of the office, her urge to call Victor out greater than her desire to remain unnoticed during a situation they definitely wouldn’t want her witnessing. “Sounds likeDanny and Bennett are to blame,” she said softly. “Will you clear Leonard’s name by naming them?”
The third voice in the room took Victor by surprise. Dixon was equally surprised, as he paused his computer work to gawk at her, neither of them seeming aware that they were not alone in the wake of a crisis.
“Isla. Right, the shadowing.” Victor cleared his throat, seeming to remember the reason why she was there. “We’ll have to reschedule. Some matters, as you’ve clearly heard, have come up. I trust you won’t repeat anything outside this office and you’ll keep it out of that article of yours.”
He made her article sound like a high school project, and she supposed she shouldn’t be offended by the dismissal. The article was the last on her list of priorities.
“Of course,” she said. “But I remember when all this blew up back then. The guy’s wife was devastated. Shouldn’t the people responsible be held accountable?”
Victor exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “I’m not sure what business it is of yours.”
“I guess it isn’t,” she admitted. She decided a little bit of honesty might go further than getting defensive and insulted by Victor’s cold shoulder. “But as I got to know you and your work ethic better, I figured you would be fair and do right by the injured parties, even if at the expense of your son.”
If looks could kill, Isla might have died on the spot, but she held her ground, meeting Victor’s withering glare.