The answer was unsatisfactory. I needed a guarantee that Lexie and Eric would never have to deal with them again.
“Donnie’s dropped the charges against Lexie. The DA isn’t going to pursue it. There will be some hearings and it’ll take time, but those assholes won’t be able to touch them again.” He pushed his vegetables away from the steak as if they were poisonous and cut another piece of meat.
I hoped that would give Lexie some solace so she could return to life as normal without worrying with the whereabouts of her parents or what they would do next.
“Did you even hear what I said? About the investigation?”
“I want you to focus your efforts on Lexie’s case.”
He dropped his fork with a clatter. “I’ve done what I can for now. She’s good. Now I’m trying to help you out.”
I traced the edge of the white tablecloth. The gun pointed at Eric’s head yesterday was all I could concentrate on. The hours of agony he’d spent locked in that closet. Thank God the weather hadn’t been too hot.
You saved me.
I’d done no such thing. I’d put him in harm’s way. It didn’t matter I hadn’t recognized the threat. He deserved better than that . . . especially from me. They deserved to go back to their normal life. Free of . . . entanglements.
Zegas pointed his fork at my plate. “Why did you bother ordering if you aren’t going to eat?”
I shrugged.
“You know your accountant is Hal Mercer’s son-in-law.”
Of course I knew who my accountant was. We used David Wolken because of my father’s relationship with Hal. Mercer’s daughter was at the helm of Titan Title beside her father. She was a couple years older than me, and her husband was several years older than she was.
“Can I at least get a nod or a grunt or something of acknowledgment?” Zegas wiped his mouth with his linen napkin.
“Did you order for me?” Patrick Whitley slid into the booth next to me and pulled my plate toward him. “Where are we at? Did you tell him that his accountant is the one who tipped off the feds?”
Zegas glared. “I was getting to that.”
I should feel something. Anger. Shock. Something. But there was nothing.
Whitley dove into my steak. “I thought he’d be more excited about this.” He grabbed my water glass. “Are you drinking this?”
“No.”
Zegas threw his hands up. “Do you get this? David Wolken has been screwing with your tax returns since you stopped doing business with his daddy-in-law.”
Finally. Something.
Irritation.
That was what I felt. At myself. For not standing up to my father and selecting my own accountant. Doing what pleased him had nearly put me behind bars.
“Are the returns I have correct? Or the ones he submitted to the government?”
Whitley focused on inhaling my meal. “That’s where it gets a little hairy.” He took a swig of water. “He fudged the returns he submitted. According to our forensic accountant, the copies you have are the correct figures.”
“So I defrauded the government without knowing it.” I didn’t know why they were so excited about these developments. I could still end up in a cell.
“Technically, yes,” Whitley said.
“But we’ve presented the two sets of returns to the investigators and our source at the IRS. If you pay what you owe once they calculate it and are willing to testify, you’re free and clear.” Zegas grinned. “They’ll even set up a payment plan.”
“How exactly am I supposed to pay them when my assets are frozen?”
Whitley jerked his thumb at me. “He is smart.”
Obviously not that intelligent. I’d ignored my gut instinct in favor of pleasing my father. I’d put Lexie and Eric in a precarious situation.
“They’d be willing to unfreeze a bank account or two in relatively short order so you can pay them.”
Wasn’t that just fabulous?
“Funny how they can freeze those accounts like that.” Whitley snapped his fingers. “But it takes a long time for them to unfreeze them.”
Naturally. But at least it appeared there was some good news.
“What about my ability to purchase and sell property?” It was my livelihood. I didn’t know anything else. Other than the custom dog food business. I’d made the deliveries on my own today without incident.
“Well . . .” Zegas polished off his whiskey.
“That’s tangled up with this securities fraud mess,” Whitley finished.
Zegas glared at him for undoubtedly stealing his thunder.
“I didn’t commit securities fraud,” I said through my teeth.
Whitley tilted his head toward me. “You really do things by the book.” He spoke with a bit of wonder.
“Elliott has a guy at the bureau who can hopefully speed this along. It’s going to take some time for them to conduct their own audits, but the evidence in your favor is piling up.” Zegas flagged the server down. “Chocolate pie and another whiskey.”
“Make that two,” Whitley chimed in.
The server looked to me and I discreetly shook my head.
“The big problem now is the titles.” Zegas leaned back, draping his arm over the top of the booth.
“Andrew Dixon, the real estate attorney, is personally researching each property. That’s not quick work.”
And it was probably expensive. After the hit I took last night, I needed those accounts unfrozen sooner rather than later.
“It’s probably going to be tied up in court until kingdom come.” Zegas rolled his eyes. “The good news is you get to keep all of them until a judge says otherwise unless we can prove that the titles are clear.”
Dread filled me. I didn’t want to be in a years-long court battle. One way or another, I wanted it settled now.
“Dixon is still working on your apartment. The interesting thing is that guy you bought it from? The one who owed a bunch of money? Did you know he owed it to your father?” Whitley asked.
Would it be any other way? Everything in my life was twisted around my father.
“How is that a factor?”
“We’ll argue that you purchased the title insurance, but if the judge doesn’t agree that’s worth anything, the apartment will likely go to your father since he was the lien holder.”
Wasn’t that the cherry on top of this mess?
“We’ve already filed a motion that you’ve been aggrieved. If we look proactive, we believe that will help the case.”
“So what happens now?”
“We keep mounting up evidence in your favor. But the good news is, you won’t be behind bars any time soon,” Zegas said.
Again, nothing. Where was the excitement? The relief?
“I want David Wolken and Hal Mercer prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”
We all turned to find my father standing at the edge of the table. I lifted a brow at Zegas. Had he been speaking to him behind my back?
But Zegas remained calm and collected. “We’re defense attorneys, Samuel.”
“And you need to make certain none of this comes to light in reference to my son’s mistakes.”
Anger bubbled hot and deep. Apparently, I needed my father to feel something.