All of the directors were listed as working for two hours a week, one hour at Safer America Action, the other at a “related organization,” for zero compensation.
The directors’ list was interrupted by a section for “Independent Contractors.” A couple of them were easy enough to figure out: The travel service they used for hotels and airfare. Professional fundraisers. A company that printed annual reports and mailers. A hotel in town that seemed to be where Safer America booked its guests.
But two of the contractors were simply listed as “Consulting Services”: Edgemore Media Consulting and Red Seas Research Ltd.
Edgemore Media received $539,372 in compensation. Red Seas Research got $348,191.
Michelle paged ahead.
In the next section of directors, she found Matthew Moss. Also listed for two hours a week at zero compensation.
The final board member, Steve… she still didn’t know what his last name was.
She continued to scroll.
Next came the highest compensated employees.
The first was Caitlin O’Connor, President.
Caitlin worked thirty-three hours a week, according to the disclosure form: twenty hours at Safer America Action, thirteen at “related organizations.” Her annual salary was divided between three columns, D, E and F. The first was “Reportable compensation from the organization,” which had to mean Safer America Action. The second column was for “Reportable compensation from related organizations.” Maybe from SAF, the other group of PDFs, whatever that was? The third column was “Estimated amount of other compensation from the organization and related organizations.”
From Column D, from Safer America Action, Caitlin received $159,286. From Column E, “related organizations,” she got $127,776. From Column F, “other compensation,” $45,113.
Michelle added up the numbers in her head.
She was getting paid $75K, so she guessed it wasn’t that surprising that Caitlin was making close to $300K, even without adding in “other compensation.”
Not real wealth, not like the hedge fund managers and the Fortune 500 CEOs and the new tech millionaires, maybe not even that much for a person living in River Oaks.
But wasn’t this supposed to be a nonprofit?
The Vice President of Finance/Administration, Porter Ackermann, was next. His salary and compensation were about $50K less than Caitlin’s. He too was working thirty-three hours a week, with a similar split in who paid him.
She had a sudden flash of Porter in his expensive suit, sitting behind his expensive walnut desk. He had other income, she was willing to bet on it.
“Hon?” she heard Caitlin call from the Great Room. “Did you make any reservations yet?”
“Not yet. Anything in particular you feel like?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Caitlin hugged the doorframe. “How about… something healthy?” She grinned. “Sushi, maybe?”
“Sure,” Michelle said.
She scrolled past the other highest compensated employees. She didn’t have much time before lunch.
Statement of Revenue. Statement of Functional Expenses. Balance Sheet. Reconciliation of Net Assets.
A lot of big numbers. Tens of millions in places. There was no way for her to make sense of it skimming like this.
Public Charity Status and Public Support. Reason for Public Charity Status. Support Schedules. Public Support Percentage and Investment Income Percentage. A page for Supplemental Information, left blank.
Then, finally, there it was:
Schedule B. **Public Disclosure Copy**.
Schedule of Contributors.
Her heart beat a little a faster, and she could feel the sweat break out on her scalp and back, in spite of the air conditioning.
She paged past the Organization Type and General Rules versus Special Rules to Part 1: Contributors.
The first contributor’s contributions totaled $8,500,000. The type of contribution checked was “Person.”
The other information, the name of the contributor, the contributor’s address, was blank.
“What?” she muttered. That couldn’t be right.
She scrolled down the page.
The next contributor kicked in $7,000,000. A “Person.” No identifying information.
$5,500,000. $3,300,000. $1,500,000. Two more pages with decreasing amounts. The lowest was $5,000.
No information about the donors at all.
“You about ready for lunch?” Caitlin called from the other room.
“Lunch sounds great,” Michelle said. She closed the program and rose. “Oh, would you mind if I ran a quick errand after? I just need to pick something up at the drugstore.”
“Sure, go ahead. There’s not a lot going on today anyway. Take the rest of the afternoon off, if you’d like.”
“Well, I won’t say no to leaving early,” Michelle said quickly. “There’s just a few things I want to do here first.”
“Do you want to stop at the CVS now?” Caitlin asked after lunch, some $175 of sushi and premium sake. Caitlin had drunk most of the sake, so Michelle was driving. “It’s on our way back.”
Michelle hesitated. She couldn’t think of a logical reason to say no, but she didn’t like the idea of Caitlin knowing she’d gone to buy a flash drive.
“I don’t want to put you out,” she said.
Caitlin made her weary wave. “Oh, you’re not putting me out. I’ll just wait in the car with the air on.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll be quick.”
She left Caitlin in the passenger seat fiddling with the radio, the car parked in the middle of the small CVS parking lot.
She bought a box of Kleenex, a bottle of Mrs. Meyers counter cleaner and a bar of hand soap along with the flash drive.
When she exited the CVS, she felt like she’d walked into a sauna, especially after the store’s overly chilly air conditioning. Why do places do that? she wondered. It just made going outside worse.
There was a car parked two spaces over from Caitlin’s White Pearl Lexus SUV. A late model silver compact, one of those anonymous economy imports that you saw everywhere and couldn’t necessarily identify. Something about it nagged at her. What was it? A Kia?
No. A Hyundai.
She drew closer.
A Hyundai with a bumper sticker that said owned by a pug.
Carlene’s car. Gary’s errand girl who’d picked up the suitcase of cash from her apartment.
From behind, the car looked empty, but Carlene wasn’t very big. Maybe she was crouched down, blocked by the front seat.
Maybe she can’t see me, Michelle thought. She circled around to the passenger side.
She’s Gary’s person. You have to assume she’s dangerous.
Michelle had her.38 tucked in her hobo with the custom holster. She wrapped her hand around the grip now. Approached the car and peered through the window.
Empty.
Michelle straightened up and scanned the parking lot, swiveled her head around to check the exit of the CVS.
Where was she?
Just get out of here, Michelle thought. She turned and half-jogged around the Hyundai toward the Lexus.
And saw Caitlin slumped in the passenger seat, head lolling to one side.
Michelle froze, heart hammering in her throat. She took a step toward the passenger door, then another. She couldn’t see Caitlin’s face. Was she breathing?
Michelle rapped her knuckles on the window. Caitlin stirred. Turned her head and opened her eyes.
Relief flooded through Michelle like cool water.
Caitlin stretched and sat up.
“I can’t believe I feel asleep,” she said when Michelle opened the driver’s door. “It hasn’t been that long, has it?”
“Not really.” Michelle managed a smile. “This heat takes a lot out of you.”
It was Carlene’s car, she was sure of it, parked in a place where Michelle was likely to see it. Obviously Carlene wasn’t trying to hide her presence, wherever she might be now. She wanted Michelle to know she was here.
As Michelle pulled the Lexus into the parking lot exit, she saw a woman standing by the bus stop on the sidewalk to her left, wearing a sun visor and accompanied by a leashed brindle pug.