“Well, it’s interesting, kiddo. Since the evidence hasn’t come in yet, we don’t have much to go on. But we have reason to believe the feds think other parties are involved. When we know who they are, that will help.”

“So, like, who would you think it was?” I asked casually. “If you had to guess.” This was a question that would have tipped my mom off instantly. Dad just said, “You know, honey, I don’t know.” He paused. “The only thing I can think of that was weird recently is that we had some statements with some errors in them from the Capstone Fund. But they were very small, and the money was all there so…”

“The Capstone Fund,” I repeated, trying to remember it.

“Yeah. And they mentioned my being a flight risk, so we have to think someone overseas is being investigated. If I had to guess, maybe the Artemis Fund? Maybe the Mallick? But this is all based on my sitting here thinking. Nothing factual.”

None of that meant anything to me, of course. I mean, I recognized the names from my limited internship experience. But that was about it.

Dad smiled. “Are you thinking of following in Dad’s footsteps?”

He looked so proud that I couldn’t bear to say what I was thinking: After this? Um, hell no. So I just shrugged. “Maybe. You know I always loved my internships.”

“You know, honey, this business is all about relationships. I know the guys at all these funds. Hell, I’ve worked with the Capstone Fund for easily ten or twelve years. Sometimes I just email or call Dan—that’s the guy who started it—and we chat and cut up, and a small mistake here or there isn’t unheard of. It happens.”

“Or maybe he stole the money?” I asked.

He shrugged and said, “I can’t imagine that Dan…” He stopped and a look crossed his face, and I could tell he was finally starting to get suspicious. Dad leaned over and patted my leg. “Sweetheart, this isn’t your problem. Oliver will figure this all out. Because I’m not guilty. Okay?”

It wasn’t okay. I wanted to do something. I was about to say more, but Oliver walked in, looking like he was on a mission. “Oh, hi, Iris.”

“Hi, Oliver.”

“I hate to cut your visit short, but…”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. Merit is waiting for me, and there’s nothing to cut short because I was never here.”

He smirked at me. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you picking up what I’m putting down, Oliver?”

“Oh, I’m picking it up,” he said.