“That’s what I would like to talk to you about.”
Four students walk into the building wearing jerseys and track pants. They’re laughing and talking loudly.
“Oh, hey, coach,” one of them says.
“Hi, coach,” the rest chime in.
They walk past us through a door.
“Let’s go to my office,” Sam suggests. “It will be quieter. I’m expecting the rest of the team to come in soon, practice is in ten minutes.”
I nod then follow him through the same door the students went through, then down a hall and into an elevator. He presses the button for the top floor.
When we arrive, the elevator opens to a long hallway where several of the doors are open. I peer into some of the rooms as we go. They are offices—very nice offices.
“Right in here,” Sam says as he unlocks his door.
I try to hide my surprise. I know the hockey team here is important, but I’ve seen CEOs of major corporations with less lavish spaces than this. The coach has a large corner office that overlooks the campus to the right, and Mount Rainier to the left.
“Wow. That’s a great view.”
“Thank you. Why don’t you have a seat?”
I sit and notice the furnishings are all high end. The place is so big, I wonder if he ever calls the entire team up here. There are photographs on the walls; several are of him with his team, holding a trophy.
“We’ve won the NCAA Division One men’s ice hockey championship three years in a row,” he boasts. “I’m quite proud of our players.”
I nod and purse my lips. Joseph said the same thing to me the moment I met him.
When I don’t speak, Sam prompts, “You said you had questions? I’m afraid I only have about seven minutes.” He stares at his watch.
Either this man is obsessed with time, or he’s counting down the minutes until he can be rid of me.
I save that information for later and ask, “Can you explain what arrangement you have with Joseph Taylor regarding the hockey team’s finances?”
Sam frowns. “That’s a private university matter, Mr. Anthony.”
“Please, call me Cody. Maybe Chip didn’t explain. I’ve been hired by the university to protect Joseph Taylor. We think he might be in danger for taking money that wasn’t his.”
Sam leans back. “And how does this have anything to do with me?”
“My understanding is he borrowed some funds from the hockey team.”
Sam’s lips quirk up. “No, I assure you, he could not do that without my consent.”
I smirk. “I think he found a way.”
Sam frowns as he madly types on his keyboard. “Let me check our records.”
More frantic typing, and then his eyes widen. “The money’s gone. This can’t be right. We had over three hundred thousand dollars in that fund.”
Over three hundred thousand? For hockey? I quickly school my features. I’m not here to judge, only to find out what’s going on.
“And what do you have now?” I ask.
Sam stares at the screen. “Five dollars and fourteen cents.”
Jesus. He took three hundred thousand dollars? I run my hand through my hair. “Who has access to the account?”
