LEONARD FINISHED LOOKING OVER THE PROFIT AND LOSS statement, then closed the file. It had been another excellent quarter thanks to the new program he’d had implemented for the claims department. He’d hired a bunch of PhDs to come up with an algorithm that was saving them millions. It identified those customers who were least likely to go the extra mile in submitting a second claim and would just pay the bill themselves. He also put a limit on the claim amount, so it wasn’t onerous for the policyholder to come up with the money. Those customers who were over sixty-five, those with ethnic-sounding names who might not speak English well, and those in certain zip codes where educational levels were known to be lower. The beauty of the score was that it was confidential and proprietary, so it couldn’t come under the scrutiny of the insurance commission. Of course, if there were enough complaints to trigger an audit, the commission might realize that a disproportionate number of claims had been pulled from those categories, so he made sure that they mixed them up and had a second score, which was more randomized and which they used every eleven days so that there was never a month in which the claim denials would attract suspicion. He had also made it difficult for all customers to submit the new claims, requiring they do it via fax. Who felt like schlepping to a fax machine? People were lazy. They weren’t going to put themselves out over a few bucks. But those few bucks that the company should have paid, when multiplied by hundreds of thousands of consumers, added up to big profits for them, and a nice fat bonus for Leonard.
That money went into a separate account, one that Patrice had no idea about. Leonard needed his discretionary money to fund his darker urges. Women like Sissy provided him with suitable distraction and pleasure to get through the week, but there were things that even they couldn’t do. Every few months he withdrew a big sum of cash and used it to purchase services found only on the dark web. He held off as long as he could in between these sessions, knowing that if he were ever found out, it would be the end of not only his career, but his freedom as well. But the thrill of the risk was half the pleasure. It was just that there was so much scrutiny these days on men. He swore, the hardest thing to be in this day and age was a man. Women complaining that if you looked at them too long you were leering at them, or if you complimented them, God forbid, you were sexually harassing them. It infuriated him and brought out his need to punish. When his frustration had risen so high that he started snapping at even his precious daughters, that’s when he knew it was time to let the air out of the tire, so to speak. Now was one of those times.
“Hello,” a male voice answered.
“I hear it’s going to rain. Are you still selling umbrellas?” Leonard asked.
“Yes. What kind do you want?”
“A brand-new one. Disposable.”
“Code?”
Leonard’s burner phone beeped with a new text message. He read the number aloud.
“You’re confirmed. It will be delivered to the usual location. Time?”
“Eight P.M. Eastern,” Leonard answered. He hung up and picked up his office phone. “Get my wife on the line.”
When his assistant buzzed, he picked up again.
“I have to go out of town on business overnight. Kiss the girls for me.”
“You just found out? I was planning on going out tonight with some friends, and you gave the nanny off for her birthday, remember?”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, now you’re staying in. Deal with it.”
He hung up. He fantasized for a moment about what he would do to her if he could . . . but she was safe. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt the children, and making their mother disappear would definitely scar them. Lucky for Patrice, he was a good father.