Page 63 of Help Me Remember
She speaks quickly, which is a clear sign she’s very much bothered by it. Good. I want it to bug her. I want the idea of me and another woman to make her rage because she’s the only woman I want.
“What if I told you it’s been a long time since . . .”
She raises her hand. “Seriously, it’s not my business.”
Oh, Brielle, if it weren’t a risk to the prosecution’s case, I’d tell you everything. I’d fall to my fucking knees, confess everything, and beg you to love me again. I’d cut my heart out of my chest and give it to her if it meant it would give her the memories back.
“All right then,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee. “Emmett asked me to take you to that MOTY ceremony in a few days.”
She blows out a long breath. “I hate that stupid thing.”
“We all do.”
“Isaac almost peed himself when he was nominated.”
I pause because he was nominated two years ago. “He was?”
She nods. “Yeah, he went on and on about it being an amazing honor and talking about what he was going to do if he won. Because that prime parking spot in front of the town hall is such a great prize.” Brie takes a drink and then looks at me. “What?”
I don’t want to point out that she just remembered something new because I don’t want her to start pushing for more. I want her to stay relaxed and maybe she’ll remember more. “Nothing. I have this for you.”
She takes the folder that contains the information she asked for on Rachelle Turner and the youth center. Brielle opens it and heads to the couch before thumbing through it. I dredged up some information that she wouldn’t find on her simple searches. Things like the financial records and public holdings.
“Wow,” she says as she reaches the page showing the profits. “They’re doing well.”
“They have two major benefactors.”
“But they’re recent,” she notes.
“They are. It looks like the second donor stepped in around a year ago.”
“Jenna mentioned when I interviewed that she was a benefactor.”
I figured that was her company on the statement here. “Anything with the orange is what I assumed was Jenna’s non-profit.”
We scour through the papers and make notes in the margins. It feels so fucking good doing this. For the first time in over three years, there’s a slight thrill to investigating. I used to love this part. Each detail can lead to something bigger, and I relish in the idea of finding it.
Brielle puts her coffee down and grabs a pen, circling two amounts. “These two are not donations and are almost identical amounts, off by just three pennies.”
“Both just under the amount you have to declare to the government as well.”
Her eyes find mine. “What do you mean?”
“Any deposit over ten thousand is reported, but these are eight days apart, so they weren’t likely flagged. But look at this.” I point to another line item on the statement. “There are six withdrawals in a forty-eight-hour period. All of them are small enough not to tip anyone off.”
“Is that important?” Brie asks.
“It could be.”
“Why would I be looking into the financial records of my job? How would I even have had access to that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is there anything in here that explains the withdrawals?”
“No, those kinds of records take a bit longer to get access to, but I’m working on it.”
I rifle through another pile and hand it to her. It’s an employee list compiled with dates of hire and any terminations. “Where did you get these?”
