Everyone was inside the conference room at that point except me. I grew faint, beads of clammy sweat breaking out on my forehead. It felt like it was about a hundred degrees in the office. I took in a breath, let it out slowly, then went over to the small refrigerator in the corner and pulled out a bottle of water. I suspected I was going to need it to get through this meeting.
I mentally reviewed the filings as I stood gathering myself to go in. Everything had been done correctly. I’d double and triple checked it yesterday. It was all in order. I saw absolutely no errors, and sure as hell not the ones this guy was claiming I had made. Not to mention, I wasn’t the last person to look at the non-profit’s paperwork before it was filed.
MMHA had an oversight committee. I was just a lowly volunteer. I wasn’t solely responsible for keeping the books, and someone was always supposed to check up on my work. Even if I’d missed something, someone higher up the food chain should have noticed and fixed it, or at least flagged it. If they hadn’t, was that really my fault?
Trying to shake off my burgeoning panic, I carried the bottle of water and my backpack into the conference room. It wasn’t a huge room to begin with, but right now with twelve people crammed inside, it felt like a sardine box. Claustrophobia joined the clamoring chorus of reasons to lose my shit. As soon as I set down my backpack next to the last remaining chair, the room fell silent. Everyone stared at Ponytail Guy, including Daisy. It was like they were following his lead, waiting for permission to speak. Permission to fucking breathe.
Ponytail Guy leaned back in his chair, regarding me coolly. “I am Caspian Werther of the Missouri State Auditor’s office. Explain how you came up with the numbers for Form 990-T.”
I narrowed my eyes, unfamiliar with that form. “Can I see the files?”
“You already have the files. Explain why there is more than seventy-two thousand dollars missing from this organization’s withholdings and why your name displays on withdrawal slips at the bank.”
I stared at him. He might as well have been speaking a foreign language. “What? I don’t...”
He cut me off. “Do you understand that Form 26B relates to for-profit organizations and that by filing such form, you are in violation of Missouri law?” Werther’s eyes narrowed. He tilted his chin down, staring at me just like he had yesterday.
Looking right through me.
“I never filed that form,” I said. “Why would I? I need to see the documentation.” I looked to Daisy and gestured, waiting for her to hand me the box of files I’d given her yesterday. The files that showed I had filled out the proper forms and that I had done nothing wrong.
Daisy looked at Werther, who shook his head almost imperceptibly in the negative.
She returned her gaze to me, crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head as he had. “I can’t do that.”
The sense of unreality grew. “How am I supposed to defend myself if you won’t even let me see the files?”
“We didn’t bring you here to defend yourself,” Werther said. “Simply to admit that you have been embezzling money from this non-profit. The evidence is clear.”
“What?” My eyes went wide. Where was this even coming from? I tried to regroup. “I have never touched a dime of MMHA’s money. Ever.” My heart was beating so hard that my chest was aching again. I felt as though I was in real danger of throwing up. “I’ve never even handled the money at this place. I just crunch numbers and fill out forms!”
“You committed fraud,” Werther said. “They trusted you.”
Daisy stood up, pointing at me with a shaking finger. “How could you take money from us?” She sounded appalled, like she believed everything Werther was saying without question. “You’re a fraud. We trusted you!”
After Daisy started, so did a few of the other board members.
All yelling out that I’d committed fraud. That I’d embezzled money. That they’d trusted me.
Like drones, they repeated every word he said.
I felt my grip on reality slipping. Was I in some kind of alternate universe? What in the actual fuck was going on here?
Every new lie that spewed from Werther’s mouth was immediately picked up by Daisy and the other board members. It was as though he had some kind of mental hold over them. Like they couldn’t think for themselves anymore.
Like Werther had somehow compelled them to believe whatever he said.
I had volunteered at this place for years. Years. But these people—people I knew, and who knew me—were all acting like I was a complete stranger that had walked into their office and stolen money at gunpoint.
Some of the board members started spewing things that were completely crazy. Saying I lived in a fancy house, leeching money from MMHA, when in fact I lived in a crappy 1940s two-bedroom bungalow that I could only afford because my dad had refinanced the mortgage for me. Claiming I drove an expensive car when everyone in the office knew I had a broken down Civic, and had needed to take the damn bus to even be here today.
Standing in front of them all, people I’d respected and trusted, I fought back tears, only the growing sense of dissociation with reality making it possible for me to keep them inside.
“Stop!” I said it aloud, though the croaked word was swallowed up by the growing clamor of outrage in the room. This entire thing was off-the-wall crazy. I refused to stay here any longer, accused of doing terrible things while Caspian Werther stared at me like some kind of mildly interesting science experiment.
I flung my backpack over my shoulder and glared at him.
“I don’t know who you are or how you pulled this off, but you won’t
