Читать книгу Suspicions: A Twist Of Fate / Tears Of Pride - Lisa Jackson - Страница 9

Chapter 1

The telephone receiver was slammed back into its cradle with such force that the paperweight sitting next to the phone slipped off the desk. Two framed pictures of a round-eyed, blond-haired girl rattled and then dropped onto the corner of the desk. The tall man who had slammed the telephone so violently righted the portraits with care, clasped his hands behind his back and resumed his pacing. Would it ever be possible to communicate with Krista again, he wondered. His shoulders were slightly slumped, and there was a pained darkness just beneath the anger in his eyes. He swore an oath, aimed for the most part at himself, and continued pacing in front of the wide plate-glass window.

For a moment he paused to look out the window and try and control his rage. A fading California sun was dispersing the final rays of daylight inland as it settled peacefully into the tranquil Pacific Ocean. Long lavender shadows had begun to deepen against the white sand of the beach, and the first cool hint of autumn hung crisply on the air. Kane closed his eyes tightly, as if to shut out the serene view. Turbulent emotions stormed through his body. He kept telling himself that he couldn’t change the past, that he couldn’t blame a dead woman for his daughter’s condition, and yet he did.

A solid rap on the door interrupted his black thoughts, and automatically Kane called out a terse acknowledgment. A moment later Jim Haney marched through the door carrying an ungainly sheaf of papers and a long manila envelope. Jim’s tired face held a genuine smile, although he also noted the severe lines of stress that contorted Kane’s body. Kane’s normally impeccable wool suit was wrinkled and his expensive silk tie askew. Harsh creases webbed from the corners of Kane’s deep-set gray eyes and there was a cold, hard determination in the set of his jaw. It wasn’t hard for Jim to surmise the reason for Kane’s obvious annoyance. Jim knew Kane well enough to recognize that Kane was angry and concerned over his eleven-year-old daughter. The guilt that Kane bore silently was beginning to show. Kane needed to think about something else—anything else—and Jim hoped that he had found the solution to Kane’s studious disinterest in anything other than the near-fatal accident that had left his daughter disabled.

Jim’s smile remained intact as he met Kane’s annoyed gaze. “I guess this about wraps it up,” Jim announced, fanning the air with a smooth sheaf of computer printouts. Kane’s cool eyes followed the green and white pages with only feeble interest while Jim continued. “The Seattle sale—it’s final—and all of the loose ends are tied up…except for one.”

“So quickly?” Kane asked skeptically as he settled into the worn leather chair behind his desk and began scanning the printout.

“For once it looks like we may have gotten lucky.”

“Good!” There was a note of finality to Kane’s words. He looked up at Jim with a grim smile. “Then there’s really no reason for me to wait, is there?”

Jim coughed nervously before meeting Kane’s unwavering gray stare. “Are you sure that you’re making the right decision?”

Involuntarily a muscle in Kane’s jaw tightened. “Let’s just say that I’m making the only decision possible.”

“But to just pack up and leave all of this…” Jim’s voice trailed off as he waved expansively. The gesture encompassed the entire gray concrete office building of Consolidated Finances, the understated but costly furnishings and the calm ocean view.

Kane’s eyes swept the office, noting the leather furniture, the thick plush carpet, the book-lined cherrywood walls, and then fell back on his friend. “Think of it as a prolonged leave of absence, if you like.”

“Then you will be back?” Jim asked guardedly.

“When I have to be,” Kane agreed, with an expression of distaste. “No doubt the board of directors will insist that I come back and oversee the operation from time to time.” Kane returned his attention to the computer sheets before him. Quickly shuffling through the smooth, flat pages, he located the report that he sought. A dark furrow etched its way across his forehead as he reread the printout. “Still losing money in the legal department?” he asked, almost to himself. “I thought that we had cleared up that embezzling scam last week and had gotten rid of Cameron—or whatever his name was. Didn’t we?” He turned his sharp eyes on Jim.

“That’s the one loose end that’s still dangling. It looks as if Cameron has an accomplice.”

“What?”

“I had a hunch from the beginning that someone was working with him, but I couldn’t prove it until I made sure that Cameron was out of commission. I’m not sure who the culprit is—haven’t been able to dig up any tangible proof—but I’ve narrowed it down to a few possibilities.” Jim handed Kane the manila envelope. “Here’s some personnel information on some of the suspects.”

Kane reached for the envelope. “Well, whoever he is, he must be a damned fool! You would think that with all of the hubbub about Cameron, anyone else involved would be busy covering his tracks rather than taking any further risks. This guy must get his kicks by flirting with danger.”

“It may not be a man,” Jim suggested.

Kane cocked an interested black eyebrow. “A woman?” A satisfied, almost wicked smile crept over his lips.

“Like I said before, I’m not sure, but it looks as if Cameron has always been…fond of the ladies. He’s had a reputation for promoting women.”

“Whether they’re qualified or not?”

Jim shrugged. He didn’t like the glint of inquisitive interest that had stolen over Kane’s features. “I haven’t had Cameron arrested as yet, but he’s being watched. Hopefully his colleague will surface soon.”

“So you’re telling me that Cameron is still on the payroll and that although you’re sure he hasn’t taken any more funds, someone near to him has.” Kane Webster was beginning to show his anger.

Jim squirmed only slightly as he went on to explain. “That’s about the size of it. We’re watching Cameron round the clock, night and day. We know that he hasn’t pocketed the funds himself, because we’ve kept him tied up with auditors and the like ever since it became apparent that he was embezzling trust funds. So far he hasn’t become suspicious.”

Kane wasn’t convinced. “And his friend?”

“Somehow she’s still manipulating the accounts and taking money.” Jim shook his head and grimaced. “I haven’t been able to trace it to her as yet. She’s very clever.”

Kane sat thoughtfully in his chair and pulled out the personnel files that Jim had handed him. He didn’t doubt Jim’s assumption that Cameron had a woman accomplice. He’d worked with Jim too many years not to respect the younger man’s opinion. Jim’s suspicions had always paid off in the end for Consolidated Finances.

The names on the personnel reports meant nothing to Kane, and at first glance, all of the files seemed to hold nothing out of the ordinary. “You’re sure that the thief is one of these people?”

Jim nodded his head in affirmation. “No one else has the authority to move bank funds so freely.”

“But couldn’t someone else forge a superior’s order?”

“I thought about that too. I had it checked out, but the auditing system of the bank is too complete. No, our misguided embezzler is sitting right there in that envelope. All we have to do is figure out who she is.”

Kane puzzled over Jim’s recent discoveries in what had appeared to be a sleepy little Seattle bank. His eyes narrowed as he thought about the trap that he would set for Cameron and his accomplice. The fact that it was a woman interested Kane. He had learned several years ago that women could be a devious lot, and it only reinforced his bitter opinion of the opposite sex to learn of the female embezzler.

Jim Haney watched the play of emotions that traversed Kane’s dark features. He had worked with Kane for over ten years and had come to know his boss as well as anyone. Kane was a fair employer, but Jim knew from past experience that Kane could be ruthless if crossed. Right now, as Kane’s lips thinned, Jim was thankful that his name wasn’t Mitchell Cameron. And he couldn’t help but feel pity for the unfortunate woman who had gotten tangled up with Cameron. Jim had his own opinion about the accomplice’s identity, and he had met the woman. It was damned hard to believe that such an intelligent, sophisticated woman would be involved with the likes of Cameron. Oh, well—that was Kane’s problem. “Did you want me to have the police go to work on Cameron?” he asked.

“No.” Kane shook his head, still immersed in his thoughts. “I’ll see to it personally. I’m leaving for Seattle tonight.” A satisfied grin moved over Kane’s features.

“You’re really going to enjoy throwing the book at Cameron, aren’t you?”

“And the woman! I don’t like any thief—especially when she’s got her hands in my pockets!” Kane retorted. “This just gives me one more reason to head north as soon as possible.”

“That’s something I don’t understand at all,” Jim admitted. “Why you bought that miserable excuse of a bank—it’s been losing money for years—just so you can freeze your tail off in Seattle.”

“California lost its sparkle for me quite a while ago,” Kane muttered tersely, then softened his tone as he caught the wounded look in Jim’s eyes. “You know of course about Krista. The doctor thinks a change of climate would be good for her. As soon as I have a permanent residence, I’ll send for her.”

A personal question died on Jim’s lips as he noticed the sober tone of Kane’s final words. He hadn’t gotten to be vice president of Consolidated Finances by asking questions that were none of his business. He’d heard the rumors associated with Kane: a glamorous ex-wife, a sticky divorce and an unfortunate accident. But Jim had never pried. He was too interested in self-preservation to open doors that Kane preferred locked.

Kane pushed the manila envelope into his briefcase along with a small portrait of his daughter. He paused for a minute and looked at the eager young face before tucking the picture into a side pocket in the leather case. That accomplished, he snapped the briefcase closed.

“The moving company will take care of the rest of this litter,” Kane observed, looking around his office for one last time. “If you need to get in touch with me, Carla has the number of my hotel in Seattle.”

“Good luck,” Jim said, clasping Kane’s hand warmly.

“Let’s hope I don’t have to rely on luck!” With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Kane walked out of his office for the last time.

* * *

The early-model Volkswagen Rabbit skidded to an abrupt halt, splashing dirty rainwater from the street up onto the sidewalk. The driver of the little yellow car was a slim, striking woman who pulled the emergency brake, slung her purse over her shoulder and slammed the car door shut without taking the time to lock it. She hastened through the damp September evening toward the cozy Irish bar.

There was a determined and slightly mysterious gleam in her large eyes as she hiked her raincoat up and clutched the collar tightly to her throat. Sidestepping a puddle of water as if it were second nature, she pushed her way through the stained-glass door of the restaurant.

The familiar interior was dark, but Erin’s eyes became quickly accustomed to the dim lighting and the air thick with cigarette smoke. Loud, tinny music was coming from a rather bedraggled-looking band reminiscent of the late fifties.

Unconsciously Erin wiped away a few drops of rain that still lingered on her cheeks, while she moved her gaze over the Friday night throng of customers that was heralding the beginning of what promised to be another rainy Seattle weekend.

Appreciative glances and admiring smiles followed her movements, but she ignored everyone other than the distinguished man of about fifty sitting before the polished bottles and the mirrored backdrop of the bar. Erin’s eyes met his in the reflection, and for a moment a dark, guarded look crossed over his distracted blue eyes. Finally he smiled tightly and motioned for her to take the vacant stool at his side.

“Mitch,” Erin sighed almost gratefully. “What on earth are you doing here?”

He hesitated, and in that instant, any warmth in his eyes faded. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Olivia Parsons thought you might be here,” Erin replied. Her smile disappeared at the thought of the leggy brunette.

“Oh, I see. Dear old Livvie,” Mitch mumbled sarcastically. “Your friend and mine! Here’s to friendship.” He waved his glass theatrically in the air and signaled to the bartender for another drink. “What can I get you, Erin?”

“Nothing,” Erin whispered, trying to keep the conversation as quiet as possible and yet be heard over the din of the band.

“Nothing?” he echoed, mimicking her. “Not going to join me for old times’ sake?”

“What are you talking about and why are you here?” she asked, confused by his cynical attitude. Where was the kind man with the soft voice and the dry sense of humor whom she had known for over eight years? Mitch didn’t bother to answer her questions. He seemed intent on evading the issue, but she persisted. “Mitch, what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?”

“It looks suspiciously like you’re getting smashed,” she replied honestly.

“Very astute, young lady. I always did say that you were a smart girl, Erin.” Mitch drained his old drink and reached for the new one. “Are you sure you won’t join me? The Scotch is excellent!” Erin shook her head, but Mitch accosted the bartender. “Bring the lady a glass of Chablis,” he commanded over Erin’s protests.

Erin was having trouble hiding her annoyance with her boss and his unpredictable mood swings, but she kept her temper in check and tried a more subtle approach with him. “Why did you leave the bank early today?” A glass of chilled white wine appeared on the bar before her.

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” Erin asked uneasily. There was a menacing quality about Mitch that she wasn’t accustomed to and didn’t like.

Mitch shrugged and Erin noticed that his shoulders drooped. “Why don’t you ask Kane Webster, if you’re so interested.”

“Webster? The new president of the bank? What does he have to do with the fact that you left the office and your clients in order to promote a hangover?” she inquired. Mitch had changed dramatically in the last several months. His behavior had become erratic, almost secretive, and his work had suffered. However, until today Erin had never had to cover for him with a client or track him down in some bar. Erin counted Mitch as one of the few close friends she had in the world, and it pained her to witness his deterioration.

She couldn’t forget that Mitch had helped her through an agonizing period in her life by offering her a challenging job and a chance to bury herself in her work. He had encouraged her to do postgraduate work in law and keep busy in order to forget about Lee and the embarrassment and heartache she had suffered while she was married to him. Mitch had helped Erin realize that when Lee had left her eight years before, it hadn’t been the end of the world. When she had needed a friend, Mitchell Cameron had been there. And now, if Mitch had a problem, Erin vowed to return the favor.

“Mrs. Anderson was in today,” Erin stated, and took the glass of wine from the bar. “She was very disappointed that you weren’t able to meet with her yourself. Somehow she didn’t really think that I was a suitable replacement for the head of the legal department, and I can’t say that I blame her. I certainly wasn’t very knowledgeable about her grandfather’s will or the estate…”

“That’s her problem,” Mitch stated blandly and again focused his attention on the bottom of his glass.

“It’s not Mrs. Anderson’s problem,” Erin corrected.

“Well, it certainly isn’t mine!”

“But the bank…”

“To hell with the bank,” Mitch spat out and slammed his glass on the polished counter. Several of the patrons close by turned interested eyes on Erin and Mitch. Erin felt herself shrink. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene.

“I don’t understand what’s gotten into you lately,” Erin began in a low whisper. “And I don’t know what Kane Webster has to do with you coming down here to drown your sorrows, but if there’s anything I can do—or if there’s something you want to talk about…”

“I don’t want to talk about anything! You’re the one who came looking for me,” he reminded her crossly. “I didn’t invite you!”

“I was worried about you.”

“Well, don’t worry over me. I can take care of myself!” Mitch’s voice was bitter.

“Mitch, what in the world is going on?” she asked. Erin was stung by his acrid words, but compassion held back the sharp retort that had entered her mind as she watched Mitch order another drink. It was apparent that something was eating him, and because of the kindness he had shown her in the past, she held her tongue. She reached for his sleeve and in a quieter voice asked, “Won’t you please tell me what’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” The word ricocheted back at her followed by Mitch’s mirthless laugh. “What could possibly be wrong?” His blue eyes glittered like ice. “Unless, of course, you think that being fired from a bank that you’ve given twenty years of your life to is a problem.”

The meaning of his words struck her like an arctic blast. “Fired? Webster fired you? But why?”

“Like I said, ask him—if you’ve still got a job. Who knows, you could be next!”

“But he hasn’t even come up from California yet.”

“Oh, he’s here all right, and mark my words, all of the employees at First Puget—oh, excuse me—Consolidated First Bank better be ready!” he pointed out sarcastically.

Erin sat for a moment in numbed silence. The thought of Mitch being fired was absurd, ludicrous. Mitch had been prominent in building the legal department of First Puget to one of the most prestigious in the city. It was true that for the first time in over a decade the legal department had lost money, but certainly the new president wouldn’t hold Mitch solely responsible, would he? Nothing made any sense to her anymore. Mitch caught the look of confusion and pity in her eyes. His attitude softened momentarily.

“Look, Erin. Don’t waste your sympathy on me. And it’s really not a good idea for you to be seen with me. Believe me, it would be in your best interests to just leave me alone.”

“You look like you could use a friend,” Erin suggested.

“What I need now is a good attorney, not a friend.”

“But you are an attorney,” Erin replied, still completely perplexed.

Mitch looked her squarely in the eyes. “I’m a lawyer, yes, but I specialize in civil law. What I need now is a criminal lawyer.”

“I don’t understand….”

“You don’t have to,” Mitch answered abruptly and stood up. “I told you before, I don’t need your sympathy or any of your self-righteous friendship!” He turned his back on Erin, fumbled in his pocket for a moment and threw a wad of crumpled bills onto the bar. “See ya around,” he called over his shoulder, but Erin didn’t think he directed his words at her.

“Mitch…wait,” she began, but his long uneven strides carried him out of the door and into the night. As she watched him leave she was still recovering from the shock of his dismissal. Why would he have been fired? It was hard to believe that she wouldn’t see him on Monday morning, sitting behind his large oak desk, puffing on a slim cigar and perusing the Wall Street Journal.

“Looks like you’ve been stranded,” a smooth male voice suggested intimately. “How about a drink with me?”

Erin turned in the direction of the voice and murmured a firm “No, thanks” to the young man with the clipped mustache. He shrugged his shoulders at her denial, as if it was her loss, and manipulated his attention to a lanky blonde sitting near the dance floor.

Erin made her way back to the car. The drizzle had turned into a downpour and the late afternoon sky had blackened. The drive home was automatic, and as the windshield wipers slapped the rain off the glass, Erin thought about Mitch and what it would be like without his presence in the bank.

She had suspected for several months that Mitch was in the throes of some personal problem. At least it had appeared that way. He had seemed tired and worried—no, more than that—tense, tightly coiled. The closer the final date for the imminent bank sale had drawn, the more tightly wound Mitch had become. Erin had told herself at the time that it was only her imagination, that all of the employees of First Puget were bound to be a little anxious about the new management. But now, as she drove through the dark, slick side streets, she chided herself for not seeing and acknowledging what had been so transparent: Mitchell Cameron was in deep trouble. Its exact nature she couldn’t guess, but it was serious enough to have cost him his job.

Without thinking, she killed the motor of the car as she pulled up in front of the Victorian apartment house. Closing her eyes and rotating her head, Erin tried to relieve the tension in her neck and shoulders. She wondered about Kane Webster. What kind of a man was he? What did she really know about the man, other than the few neatly typed memos with the bold signature that had crossed her desk?

She hadn’t heard much about his personal life. Apparently he preferred his privacy. Occasionally Erin had seen his name in print—in the financial pages. If she had read anything about him in the social pages, it usually had to do with his ex-wife, a gorgeous model who had made an unsuccessful attempt at becoming an actress. But that was several years ago, before an accident that had killed Jana and left the daughter crippled, or so it was rumored.

Erin frowned to herself as she thought about her new employer. One thing was certain: Kane Webster had made his fortune on his own, spending the last decade purchasing failing financial institutions and transforming them from operating in the red to operating in the black. He had gained a reputation in financial circles for being something of a rogue because of his unorthodox methods of operation. But if results were the measure of success, Kane Webster was prosperous. It was as if King Midas had reached out and touched the ailing banks himself.

Wearily Erin got out of the car and locked the door. She started up the short shrub-lined walk to her home and smiled at the elegant old house. It was a lovely Victorian manor, perched on a hill overlooking the city. The front porch was comfortable and trimmed in ornate gingerbread. The turn-of-the-century home had been fashioned into apartments twenty years before, and the contractor had taken care to accentuate the nineteenth-century charm of the house. Erin had fallen in love with it the first time she had laid eyes on it. Ignoring opposing arguments from just about everyone she knew, she had used her small inheritance as a down payment and purchased the building two years ago. Or to be more precise, she and First Puget Bank had purchased it; there was still a sizeable mortgage against it.

Even in the drizzle of early twilight the old manor looked warm and inviting. The white three-story building with its gently sloping roof and deep gables had a picturesque aura that was distinctly “Old Seattle.” Upon close inspection it was obvious that the house was in sad need of many repairs, but tonight Erin overlooked the chipped paint and the rusty drainpipes. She had applied for an employee loan with the bank to make the needed improvements, but she knew as well as anyone that her loan would be a very low priority to Kane Webster. With a bank that was already losing money, how could he possibly make any low-interest employee loans?

Erin’s own apartment, located on the uppermost floor of the stately house, was an attic converted into a cozy loft with a bird’s-eye view of the city. She climbed the stairs slowly, sifting through the various pieces of junk mail and complaints from her tenants. Her mind was only half on the stack of mail in her hands, when she heard the telephone ringing. Racing up the final steps, she hurriedly unlocked the door, threw the mail on the table and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” she inquired, breathless from her dash up the stairs.

“Erin, honey, it’s good to hear your voice. Where have you been? I’ve been calling for hours,” a friendly male voice said.

“Lee?” Erin asked hesitantly.

A good-natured laugh bellowed from the other end. “Hi! How’ve you been?”

“Fine, Lee,” she managed, wondering why he persisted in calling her. After the last call two weeks ago, she thought he understood that she didn’t want to see him again.

“What do you say we get together? You know, have a couple of drinks and a few laughs. I’ll come by and pick you up in a half hour,” he suggested.

Erin was tempted. There had always been something seductive about Lee, not in the sexual sense, but in the fact that he was such an outgoing, likable kind of guy. The same qualities that made him great fun at a party made him an immature husband. Erin could almost picture Lee’s college-boy good looks—thick blond hair with just the right amount of wave and laughing blue eyes.

“I don’t think so,” she replied, trying to take a firm stand with him and failing.

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’ve got other plans?”

“No…” Erin responded, and wondered why she hadn’t lied and just gotten rid of him. After all these years and all of the heartache, why couldn’t she just slam the receiver down and end the conversation?

“Then, let’s have a night on the town…”

“I can’t, Lee. I’m sorry. I’ve got a pile of work to catch up on before Monday.”

“But it’s the weekend,” he coaxed in a honeyed voice. “You know what they say, ‘All work and no play makes Erin a dull girl.’”

Lee chuckled, but something in his words brought Erin crashing back to reality. Suddenly she remembered just how little she had in common with a boy who refused to grow up. She recalled the shame and humiliation she had suffered while playing the role of dutiful wife.

“No, Lee. That’s not what they say at all. That’s what you said eight years ago.”

“Hey, baby, that’s all water under the bridge. Come on, what would a drink hurt?”

Erin sighed audibly. “Look, Lee, I’m not in the mood. Not tonight—not ever. I thought I made that clear to you a couple of weeks ago.”

There was a pause in the conversation and Erin could almost hear the wheels turning in Lee’s mind.

“Just what is it that you want from me?” she asked.

“I told you—we could have a few laughs.”

“Why not just turn on the television and catch reruns of Gilligan’s Island,” she suggested and immediately regretted the sarcasm in her words. Nervously she began tapping her fingernails on the tabletop.

“I have to see you,” he pleaded.

“Why? It didn’t matter eight years ago. Why the sudden interest?” Erin’s voice had begun to shake. Memories began to wash over her.

“You really want to do this the hard way, don’t you?” Lee accused.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Erin sputtered, but an uneasy feeling was growing in the pit of her stomach. This wasn’t just a friendly call. He wanted money from her—again. Suddenly Erin felt a deep pang of pity for the man who was once her husband.

“Look, honey,” Lee cajoled with only a trace of uncertainty in his voice. “You know I lost the job in Spokane, and well, since I’ve been back here, my luck hasn’t been all that great. I thought that…you could loan me a few bucks, just until I get back on my feet.”

Erin swallowed hard before answering. “You haven’t paid me back from the last time that I helped you ‘get back on your feet.’” Erin’s voice was flat. She hoped she sounded unshakable.

“Things just didn’t turn out in Spokane. You know how it is, what with the lousy economy and all. It’s just hard to get started.”

“Oh, Lee,” Erin sighed, and felt herself wavering.

He sensed the change in her voice. “I just need a few hundred to get started…”

“Spare me the sad story, Lee,” Erin interrupted. “I can’t loan you any money right now. I just don’t have it.”

“Don’t have it—or won’t lend it?” Lee asked desperately.

“I’m sorry, Lee.”

“I doubt it!”

“I don’t think that you and I have anything more to discuss. You were the one who made that decision several years ago. Good night.”

Erin hung up and noticed that her hands were trembling. Why did he always affect her this way? It was as if she was reliving those last few months before the divorce had become final all over again. Why didn’t Lee just disappear from her life completely? Was it her fault? Did he notice her hesitation and somehow construe it as an invitation? While they were married, he had wanted his freedom so desperately. And yet, since the divorce had become final, he kept showing up, trying to rekindle the dead flames. When he finally moved to Spokane, Erin had breathed a sigh of relief. She thought that finally he would make a life away from her.

That was why she had made the mistake of loaning him fifteen hundred dollars, hoping that he would establish himself in Spokane. But his plans had backfired, and he was back in Seattle. It hadn’t lasted six months.

Erin shook off her raincoat and started taking the pins from her hair. She couldn’t worry about Lee right now. She had too many other pressing problems, the first of which was to get up early in the morning and straighten out the mess that Mitch had made of the Anderson will. That meant that she would have to go back to the bank on a Saturday, but she saw no other solution. With the new boss in town, it wouldn’t do to have him walk in on Monday morning and face an angry beneficiary.

Erin shook her hair down to her shoulders and made her way to the bathroom for a long hot bath. It had been a tiring and disturbing day.