InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 10: Anomaly ❯ Gone ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Mikio leafed through the stack of documents that Bill Winehouse, legal counsel for Morgan Tallerton Financial, had grudgingly given him copies of.  He'd requested that he get copies of all the information that they'd gathered thus far in their factfinding, but the ones that truly interested Mikio the most were, of course, the ones that might mention Gavin in some capacity.

From what he'd learned in his quick read-through, Gavin's office was the one that was the main focus so far, but Gavin himself was only the junior associate and he'd only worked for MT Financial for a couple years, which meant that he did have a direct boss in the company—Thurson Morgan, one of the co-founders.  If memory served, Mikio remembered that Gavin had changed jobs when MT Financial had approached him, offering him a much better position than he'd had at the time: more money, bigger benefits, more of a profit margin, which ultimately could also work against him if he took too big a risk anywhere that didn't pan out.

Still, Gavin was damn good when it came to handling money, almost uncannily so.  Mikio knew well enough that many of the Zeligs and even some of the Japanese relatives entrusted him with their finances, as well.  Gavin handled all of Jillian's money—no surprise there—as well as Evan's, and he recently had been asked to take over the investment of the Zelig Foundation's resources, too.  His clients also included Kichiro and Bellaniece as well as Ryomaru and Nezumi and a good portion of Sesshoumaru and Kagura's ridiculously large estate, and he'd recently started handling InuYasha and Kagome's finances, too.  Mikio hadn't yet asked Gavin to handle his, which turned out to be a good thing since it would have created a huge conflict of interests, but he had been considering it prior to finding out about the ongoing investigation into the alleged embezzlement.

The real problem was that the discrepancies in the bookkeeping seemed to have begun around the time when Gavin had started at the firm, which led Mikio to two conclusions.  Either Gavin really might be skimming off the top, or someone was trying to make it look like he was.  Mikio might not know Gavin as well as the others did, especially his North American relatives, but he knew him well enough to say that he highly doubted that it was the first of those options.

Which led to the second possibility and the question of who, exactly, had access to the files—who could have potentially altered them to make Gavin out to be the most obvious suspect?  And if that was the case, then was Gavin being deliberately and maliciously targeted or did he simply make an excellent scapegoat?

The soft beep of his cell phone drew him out of his musings, and Mikio glanced at the caller ID with a thoughtful frown.  "Izayoi."

"Hey, Mikio.  Jilli said you wanted me to give you a call?"

"Jamison-san," Mikio said, dropping the papers onto the coffee table as he got to his feet to wander over to the window.  "I was just looking over the reports."

Gavin sighed.  "They don't look good, right?" he asked, though in reality, it was less of a question and more of a statement.

Mikio grimaced.  "Uh, n-no . . . To be honest, the reports don't look good at all," he admitted.  "Most of the financial statements can be linked back to you—your accounts, your transactions."

"Just mine?"

He really didn't want to admit as much, especially to Gavin, but he sighed.  "Y . . .Yeah."
"I don't understand," Gavin grumbled.  "I mean, everything's audited monthly.  Every single report, every single transaction . . . It's all in those reports . . ."

"Do you still have copies of those reports?" Mikio asked.

"Sure . . . I always print them out and save them in hardcopy.  It's one of the first things I learned in college.  Computers can be altered easily enough."

Mikio nodded.   "Can I have copies of them?  And would anyone else have paper copies?"

"Uh, sure, no problem . . ." Then he snorted.  "I doubt if the auditor has paper copies, though.  I always email him the digitals . . ."

It'd be a lot easier if the auditing firm had paper copies since Gavin was right—paper copies were much harder to alter.  Too bad he was also right in his allowance that they likely never had printed out the documents that were emailed, too.  "Get me those copies as soon as you can, okay?  Hopefully I can figure out something when I look them over."

"Yeah, no problem.  I'll get those to you in a couple hours," Gavin agreed.  "So, uh . . . Do you think you can help me?"

"I'm going to try," Mikio replied, hating that it was the best answer he could give, but hating even more the idea of telling Gavin that there wasn't anything to worry about when they both knew that it was a lie.

Gavin didn't respond right away, not that Mikio could blame him.  There were serious charges hanging in the balance, and if Mikio couldn't figure out exactly what was going on, there was a good chance that Gavin was going to end up in court over it, and even if he were ultimately exonerated of all wrongdoing, the damage to his reputation might well end up being completely irreparable . . . "I swear to God, I didn't do anything like that," Gavin insisted quietly.  "I—"

"I don't think you did, either," Mikio interrupted calmly.  "Give me a little while to double check their evidence, Jamison-san.  If there's anything else that I can find, I will."

Gavin heaved a long, drawn out sigh.  "God, what a mess," he muttered, more to himself than to Mikio.

Rubbing his forehead as he stared at the sheets of falling rain outside the window, at the gray, overcast skies that he could barely discern beyond the forest of buildings, Mikio sighed, too.  "Don't worry," he said, knowing in his heart that his words were hollow, at best, and of no real assurance to the man in question.  "It's too soon to panic."

"Easy for you to say," Gavin remarked ruefully.  "It's not your reputation—your freedom—on the line."


Madi son stepped out of the salon with a weary little sigh as she brushed an errant lock of hair back out of her face with the back of her hand.  Pausing under the storefront overhang and biting her lip as she frowned at the pouring rain, she grimaced.

'My life sucks,' she thought, rummaging around in the black leather tote on her arm, even though she knew—just knew—that she didn't have an umbrella in there, probably because every single one she'd ever bought ended up lost somewhere, never to be seen again.

As if in rebuttal to her silent assertion, the trill of her cell phone intervened.  It took another minute to locate that—it was in her pocket—but she smiled at the name that registered moments before connecting the call and lifting the device to her ear.  "Aren't you supposed to be enjoying your honeymoon?"

"Oh, I am," Valerie remarked.  "I just sent Evan down to find me something to eat that doesn't have a bazillion calories, though, so I figure he'll be gone awhile.  This hotel seems to specialize in fat, fat, and more fat . . . Fried fat, broiled fat.  The hotel bar even has a bacon fat rum shot.  Can you believe that?  Anyway, I thought I'd call you instead!  Miss me?"

Madison sighed and stepped back, figuring that maybe she could wait for a few minutes in hopes that the rain would die down a little.  "More than you know," she admitted with a wan smile.  "So tell me where you two are."

Valerie laughed, and Madison heard the distinct sound of a door being opened.  A moment later, the rattle of wind interrupted the call before Valerie turned to shield the device.  "Not where you'd think," she replied with a giggle.  "He brought me to Iceland—can you imagine that?"

"Iceland?" Madison echoed, unable to mask her surprise.  "Is that right?"

Valerie laughed.  "But it's absolutely gorgeous here . . . Mind, I've only managed to get Evan out of the hotel once to go sightseeing.  Maybe tomorrow, I'll try again."

"Tell him to keep it in his pants for a little while," Madison remarked with a giggle.  "It won't hurt him."

"I tried to tell him that," Valerie insisted.  "But he can be awfully persuasive when he wants to be  . . Anyway, enough about Roka.  Tell me what you've been doing since I've been gone?"

"Not a hell of a lot," Madison admitted, wrinkling her nose.  "Working mostly."

"Seriously?  Just working?"

Madison made a face since she wasn't any more thrilled with her lack of a social life in the week since she'd gotten back from the wedding than Valerie apparently was.  "Well, unless you consider drinks with Bugs a couple nights ago, 'something'," she admitted.

Valerie snorted.  "Was Bugs still pining over Evan?"

"Of course."

She laughed.  "Then no, that definitely doesn't count.  Oh, I know!" she suddenly exclaimed, apparently struck by genius inspiration.  "Why don't we fly you up here?  You can hang out with us for a while!"

"On your honeymoon?" Madison quipped, making a face that Valerie couldn't see.  "No, thank you."

"Are you sure?  We can make Evan wait on us, hand and foot?"

Giggling despite herself, Madison shook her head.  "As fun as that sounds, really, I think I'll still have to pass.  Maybe some other time—you know, after the horniness has worn off a little."

"If that's the case, then you'll never come hang out with me again," Valerie pouted.  "Evan swears that it's a permanent thing—a youkai thing."

"That could be," Madison allowed thoughtfully.  "Or it could just be an Evan-Zelig-thing."

"Probably.  You know, I—"

"Hey, woman!  What are you doing on the phone?"

Madison rolled her eyes at the sound of Evan's voice but giggled.  "Leave it to him to ruin perfectly good girl time," she scoffed.

"It's not just anyone, it's Maddy," Valerie insisted.  "Now be good and stop yakking while I'm talking to my Maddy!"

Evan laughed.  "Tell her I said hey," he replied.

"Hi, Evan," Madison said.  "Anyway, I'll let you go, then . . . Miss you!"

"Aww," Valerie grumbled.  "We'll go shoe shopping when I get back."

Madison laughed.  "Okay," she allowed.  "It's a date."

"Love you."

"You, too."

The phone connection ended, and Madison dropped it into her bag with a heavy sigh.

'So why didn't you tell her that Mikio stuck around?' her youkai asked without any kind of finesse.

Madison made a face.  'Maybe because he hasn't called me?' she replied, unable to restrain the hint of defensiveness in her tone.

'Yeah, and you could always call him.'

True enough, she supposed.

Then she sighed and shook her head.  No, she couldn’t, could she?  Oh, maybe she could have if he hadn't had that weird expression on his face when she'd mentioned going to grab some dinner the night she'd dropped him off.  But he had looked strangely reluctant, hadn't he, even if she really had no idea why.

She'd gotten the feeling that Mikio had been uncomfortable when Kagome had asked her to show him around, and he'd seemed as though he thought that Madison would only agree to do such a thing because Kagome had asked her, in the first place.  She'd told him that it wasn't true, that she'd love to do that, hadn't she?

'You know, I get the impression that it was more of the idea that Kagome asked than anything else,' her youkai pointed out.  'If you didn't notice, he doesn't seem to appreciate her overwhelming concern when it comes to him and his well-being.'

That was true, too.  She'd have to be stupid not to have realized as much for herself the night they'd gone for a walk on the beach.  It seemed like he almost resented his mother's concern, and maybe she could understand that, given that, from what she could tell, it felt like Kagome was laying it on pretty thick, and if she could sense that much of it, then how bad was it for Mikio . . .?

She wrinkled her nose and slowly shook her head.  Even so, if she called him, and he turned her down . . .?

'You don't think he would, do you?'

Heaving a sigh as she stepped out from under the overhang and into the pouring rain, Madison slowly shook her head again since there was little to no chance that she'd be able to hail a cab, not at this time of day, anyway.  'I . . . I don't know,' she admitted to herself.

That was the problem, wasn't it?  She really, truly had no idea whether he would decline her invitation, if she offered one, but if he did . . .?

'Then that would be . . . the end of the dream, wouldn't it?'

'Something like that.'

'I don't know . . . He just seems a little shy, which is good for you, you know.  If he weren't, do you honestly think a guy like him wouldn't already have a mate or at least a serious girlfriend?'

It was true, she had to allow.  She hadn't really stopped to consider it, but now that she did, it really was surprising that he didn't already have someone . . .

'Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth,' her youkai went on, apparently ready to give her a pep talk of sorts.  'Maybe you should give him a call, anyway.  I mean, it's not like he knows very many people here—only you and Gavin and Jillian—and he can't hang out with Gavin and Jillian at the moment.  He's bound to be bored, don't you think?'

'Oh, so my company would be better than none at all?  Somehow, that doesn't sound very reassuring.'

'I didn't say that,' her youkai scolded.  'I just meant that he'd be more inclined to accept your invitation, especially if he's been holed up alone all week.'

She didn't answer that right away.  'I don't know . . .'

'Hmm, unless you're scared.'

Wincing inwardly at the deadly accuracy of her youkai-voice, she hastened her step, wishing that she had opted to drive today instead of walking the three blocks to her flagship salon.  Somehow, the overcast skies this morning hadn't actually registered in her head, though, so the thought of rain was a million miles away, too.  Nope, if she wanted to be entirely truthful, at least to herself, she'd have to admit that the only thing on her mind this morning was that, if she walked, she'd go right past the apartment where Mikio was staying, and maybe, if she were lucky, maybe . . .

"That's your problem, Maddikins.  You don't think ahead about this kind of thing," the words of her best friend growing up echoed in her head.  "At least, not in the way that should matter.  Your brain just kind of skips over the other stuff and focuses on the parts that you want to think about."

"Shut up, Zelig.  As if you're any better."

His laughter still echoed in her mind, and Madison had to stifle yet another sigh.  He wasn't any better, not that it mattered.  She couldn't rightfully recall exactly when they'd had that particular conversation, but it was well before he'd left home to seek his future in the big city, which meant it was in the early years of high school . . .

But even Evan hadn't known because she'd never told him.  It was one of the few things that he didn't know about her.  Looking back, she had to admit that she was glad that she hadn't.  It wasn't like Evan would have made fun of her.  He wasn't like that, after all.  No, the problem would have been more along the lines of Evan, going out of his way to make things happen for her because, in the end, that was what Evan tried to do for anyone he loved—anyone he considered his own—and Madison, as his very best friend for the longest time, was most definitely one of the lucky ones.

How sad was it, really?  Having a hopeless crush on a man who was nearly thirteen years older than she was?  Madison could still recall the first time that she'd met Mikio Izayoi.  She was four or five at the time—she didn't rightfully remember exactly how old she was—and he was there with his family for Christmas.   Maine had been in the midst of one of the worst blizzards in decades, they'd said, and the Izayoi family had just made it in when the blizzard hit.  Kelly Cartham and she were there at the mansion that day though Madison didn't remember why, and they'd gotten snowed in with the rest of them.  For the most part, Madison had played with Jillian and Evan, but she remembered . . .

They were playing hide and seek, and she was it.  Ordinarily, it wasn't too difficult a game since, as the youngest, they allowed her to sniff them out, but there were so many people in the mansion at that time that it was proving difficult for her to do.  She'd ended up, slipping into the living room where Mikio was sitting, watching Bas and Morio play some video game.  He'd spotted her and smiled, and she had ducked quickly out of the room.  She'd spent the rest of that afternoon, peering around the edge of the doorway, but whenever he glanced at her, she'd run away again.

Of course, she was way too pragmatic to be like Jillian, who had decided early on that Gavin Jamison was her mate and that no one else would do.  Madison supposed her brain just didn't work that way.  There was most certainly a level of unhealthy preoccupation when it came to Mikio Izayoi, at least, on her side of it.  She supposed she'd always paid a little more attention whenever he was mentioned, and it had always been like that.  But she would also be the first to admit that she simply didn't know him well enough to truly believe any of that stuff.

That didn't stop her from letting Mikio be the inspiration for one of her more serious life goals—one that she liked to think she'd managed to accomplish on some level—maybe, anyway.  She'd vowed that she would learn how to give the best blow job, bar none, so that if she ever did manage to get him alone, he'd never, ever forget her.  She'd even told Evan about it, though she had left out the part about doing it so that she could one day use the acquired skill on his uncle.  Evan's interest had been in allowing her to practice on him, and that was fine.  After all, he didn't really need to know about the rest of it, did he?  She laughed.

Even so, there was just something about him, wasn't there?  Something that spoke to her in whispers and sighs, and maybe if she listened hard enough, maybe she could understand . . .

People hurried past her, rushing to get in out of the rain.  Quickening her step, she lifted her bag, wrapped her arms securely around it, hunching her shoulders forward, as though she were attempting to shield it.  It was entirely silly, that notion.  She had very little doubt that it was as thoroughly soaked as she was.  No doubt about it, the first thing she needed when she reached her apartment was going to be a nice cup of mulled wine—and a hot bath—in that order.

Some guy bumped into her, almost making her lose her balance as her bag tumbled out of her grasp and onto the sidewalk.  He didn't bother to stop to steady her or to see if she was all right, either, which figured.   Catching herself before she ended up, face down on the concrete, Madison glowered after the man before sinking down to retrieve the things that had scattered.

Wasn't that the trouble with men these days?  Most of them had forgotten what true manners were, and, while Madison didn't expect the guy to stop and help her, he could have at least excused himself.  She sighed as she straightened up once more and continued on her way.

Mikio had actually held the door for her, and he'd pulled out her chair in the crab shack where they'd stopped for lunch, too.  He also tended to say 'please' and 'thank you', as well, though that might well have been from his Japanese upbringing.  On a whole, she'd noticed before that they tended to have much better manners, even to the point of being overly polite, though some of Evan's Japanese relatives were worse in that regard than others.  At least they would have apologized for nearly running her down, though . . .

The ominous rumble of thunder made her glance up for a brief second, and she winced as the torrential rain began to fall harder, faster.  She started to increase her pace, but slowed a moment later.  What was the point, anyway?  She was already soaked to the skin—there was a good chance that the violet silk blouse she'd opted to wear was ruined—and if any of those she considered to be friends were to see her now, she figured she'd never hear the end of it.  Though she couldn't look to verify it, she was relatively certain that her makeup had to be running down her face, too, if it hadn't already washed off completely.  All in all, she figured that it wasn't every day that Madison Cartham ended up looking like a drowned river rat instead of the highly polished city girl she tended to resemble most often, now was it?

"You strike me as a metropolitan girl . . ."

The thought of Mikio's softly uttered statement made her laugh.  Suddenly, inexplicably, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as people continued to run past her, veering around her, in their rush to get out of the rain.  She wasn't entirely sure why it was, but she couldn’t really help herself, either.  Tossing her head back, her hair tumbling from the careful twist she'd arranged this morning to cascade down her back, she gave in to the amusement that welled up deep inside her.  The rain had somehow changed from something she wished to escape to something she welcomed, though she had no real idea as to why that may be true.

"M-Madison . . .?"

Her laughter died at the sound of that voice, the soft and reluctant way that he'd uttered her name.  Lowering her head as she slowly pivoted to face him, her smile widened as she came face to face with him.  "Hi, Mikio," she said as he took a step toward her.  "Fancy meeting you here . . ."