Lopez, moaning now. “I know, I know. I’m a total douche bag. Just pull the goddamn trigger. I deserve it.”
His self-pity made her angrier. She hit him again. “Hey, I’ll do the threatening around here!”
“I don’t know… I never should’ve… I am a pervert. What the hell was I thinking!” Lopez sounded as if he was crying. Jesus Christ. Tessa reached over and snapped on the bedside lamp.
Yep, Lopez had worked himself into quite a state.
“Start at the beginning,” she instructed sternly. “Tell me everything. Maybe I won’t shoot you.”
“There was no beginning. I mean, it’s not like I planned it.” Lopez seemed to pull himself together. He dragged himself up to sitting; this time, she didn’t try to stop him. At least he was partially clothed in a threadbare white T-shirt and gray boxers.
The ruckus had awoken the dog again. Zeus padded in, then went to Tessa’s side and whined softly. She patted his head and he settled, curling up at her feet.
“Look, Ashlyn found out about Justin’s affair. I’m not sure how. Probably eavesdropped on her parents’ fighting, hell if I know. But she also figured out the other woman was my niece, Kate. I heard a story she even confronted Kate in the lobby, and Anita had to run her off. All I know is my niece called me one night to say the crazy girl was back, standing outside her house, and wouldn’t go away. What was I supposed to do? I headed on over to handle things best I could.”
“Best you could?” Tessa’s tone was dry.
Lopez flushed. “I took Ashlyn to a nearby coffee shop and tried to talk some sense into her. I gave her my whole spiel—Katie was just a stupid girl, I knew for a fact Justin had ended things, and her parents really were trying to work things out. She needed to just give everyone some space and time. Ashlyn seemed to finally calm down. I drove her home. Figured that would be that.”
“But?”
He shrugged, appearing once again self-conscious. “She started calling me. Said she needed someone to talk to. Her parents were both shut down, it’s not like her friends understood and given that I already knew everything that had happened. I don’t know. She’d talk. I’d listen. She was just so…angry. I mean, she’d really idolized her parents. Both of them. To have them do something so…human. It messed with her. It’s like if they weren’t perfect, then the whole world must not be perfect. She was kind of freaking out.”
Tessa simply stared at him.
He flushed again. “So, uh…yeah. She came over one day, after school. Bad day, had gotten in a fight with her best friend. Started to cry. So of course, I put my arms around her. Next thing I knew, she was kissing me. I don’t…”
He stopped talking, dropping his gaze to the bedcovers. “I didn’t seduce her, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t expect you to believe me. But as strange as it sounds, she was the one using me. She was really pissed at Justin, remember? And what better way to get back at her father who’d slept with a younger woman than to be the daughter sleeping with an older man?”
“This is what you tell yourself?” Tessa stated flatly. “This is how you sleep through the night?”
Lopez’s head shot up. “I’ve been regrouting the bath, remember? Who the fuck says I’ve been sleeping?”
“So when did she tell you she was pregnant?”
“What pregnancy? I’m not kidding, I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about!”
“She miscarried, you know. While your goons had her locked up in prison. Interesting, too, because I would’ve thought a gentleman such as yourself would’ve requested no harm come to ladies. Justin, on the other hand…”
“Not my goons! Not my instructions! And what do you mean she miscarried while in prison? What the hell is going on?”
Tessa paused. She eyed him thoughtfully. Wyatt had been right in the beginning; the Denbe Construction management team was full of liars. Anita Bennett. Chris Lopez. And yet, they were both incredible actors as well, or they truly didn’t know everything.
“Ransom,” she stated.
“I heard there’d been contact. No one has told us anything else.”
“The insurance company paid the money.” She continued to watch him.
He sat up straighter. “So they’ve been released? Are they home? Christ.” Lopez ran a hand through his hair, appearing to be simultaneously agitated and relieved. “How is Libby?”
“Seriously? You’re sleeping with the daughter but you’re still in love with the mom?”
“Told you I was a douche bag.”
Tessa played one last card. “Well, you’d better be a douche bag with a valid passport, because Justin knows you’re the one who got his baby girl pregnant. She might have miscarried, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be gunning for your head.”
Lopez paled. Abruptly, his shoulders came down, his chin up. “I’ll see him myself. First thing in the morning. Head right over. My fault. I did the crime. I’ll serve the time.”
“Goddammit!”
Tessa shot off the bed. She twirled violently, disrupting the sleeping dog and causing Lopez to gape at her. She jammed her pistol back into her shoulder holster. If she’d been extremely angry before, she was extraordinarily frustrated and furious now.
“Justin Denbe’s dead.”
“What?”
“Kidnappers planned a double-cross after the ransom had been paid. He died, saving Libby and Ashlyn.”
Lopez, completely slack-jawed now. “But you said…”
“I lied. Mostly to test if you were a liar. But you honestly have no idea what happened shortly after three P.M. yesterday, do you?”
“Lady, I’m so confused right now, the only thing I have is a headache. Are Libby and Ashlyn all right?”
“Relative scale, yes. But Ashlyn did miscarry, and Libby knows you were the father.”
If the threat of Justin’s rage scared him, then to judge by Lopez’s face, the thought of Libby’s hurt shamed him.
“Oh,” Lopez said, then seemed to lose all further words.
Tessa perched in a nearby chair. The old Lab whined nervously again. She stroked one of his ears in comfort as her mind whirled around and around.
“I don’t get it,” she said at last.
Lopez still wasn’t talking.
“Whoever did this knew Justin, Libby and Ashlyn. He or she also had the kind of contacts necessary to hire three mercenaries. Most likely, the same person has been embezzling funds from Denbe Construction for the past fifteen to twenty years—”
“I haven’t even worked there that long,” Lopez interjected with a frown.
“Which is why we started by suspecting Anita Bennett.”
“She wouldn’t steal from the company. It’s her one true love. Besides, she wouldn’t hurt Justin like that. He’s nearly a fourth son to her. The fact that her youngest may or may not be his half brother seems to actually make her feel closer to the family. I’m not saying that’s logical, but that’s the way things are.”
“Then who? We’re talking an employee who’s been around for nearly two decades, knows the Denbes’ home inside and out, is familiar with the company’s financials as well as understands the inner workings of a recently built New Hampshire prison. Who would know, have that kind of access…”
Tessa’s voice trailed off. And just like that she knew. A suspect so obvious, they’d never ever considered him. And yet…
Lopez was still regarding her blankly.
She sprang to her feet, stopping just long enough to give Zeus a quick kiss on top of the head. Definitely, she and Sophie should get a dog. But for now:
“Entry code for the Denbe Construction offices. I need it. Now.”
WYATT WANTED TO GO HOME. He understood Libby Denbe’s instinct perfectly. Hell, he’d only been working the past forty-eight hours, not held captive against his will, and already, he wanted nothing more than to return to the sanctuary of his personal space for a hot shower, a home-cooked meal (fine, a microwaved freezer meal) and
a good night’s sleep.
But here was the part of policing no one told you about until it was too late: The doing was the smallest piece of the job. Writing up reports detailing what you’d just done, on the other hand…
He was filling out paperwork. Lots of it. So was Kevin, but Kevin actually liked paperwork. He was annoying that way.
Two A.M., his cell phone rang. Nicole Adams. Didn’t surprise him, and not just because Nicole was an upwardly mobile FBI agent, but because she genuinely cared about her work. If a case didn’t have a resolution—and this one certainly lacked many key answers—she’d stay nose to the grindstone till it did.
Out of professional respect, not to mention for old times’ sake, he took the call.
“Found the white van?” she asked immediately. His department was handling the APB on the white cargo van, not to mention Justin Denbe’s corpse.
“No van, no band of merry men and no dead body.”
“Seriously? With all the officers in the area?”
“I’m getting the impression the hired muscle involved a brain or two.”
Deep sigh. “The body bothers me,” Nicole muttered. “They’re not going to keep something that incriminating, let alone smelly, in the back of their vehicle.”
“Oh, I doubt they’re driving the van anymore. Best guess, given their complete disappearance off the radar screen, is that they had another vehicle waiting. Tomorrow morning, we’ll start sending divers into nearby lakes and ponds. Most likely, we’ll find the van completely submerged with Denbe’s body in the back. That would explain the whole now-you-see-’em, now-you-don’t act.” His turn to ask a question: “Any trace of the missing funds?”
“No, and I’m told the financial gurus have turned Anita Bennett’s personal finances inside and out. It’s possible she has the monies stashed under an alias in yet another offshore account, of course. But as of this moment, we’re mostly chasing our tails.”
Wyatt grunted, Nicole’s frustration on the subject mirroring his own.
“Libby and Ashlyn?” he asked.
“Returned to their townhome.” Where they could magically pick up the pieces of their lives. Nicole didn’t say the words out loud, but they were implied.
“Are you going to see her?” Nicole asked abruptly.
“Who?”
“Tessa Leoni. She stands next to you, you know. With everyone else, she maintains a good three- to five-foot barrier. But not you.”
Wyatt thought he might be blushing. He covered his face with his hand, while hedging carefully. “Why are you asking?”
“It’s late. I’m tired. I’m curious.”
“Tessa is an interesting woman.”
“You’re going to ask her out.” Nicole supplied the words not as a question but as a statement. She didn’t sound angry about it, though. More like satisfied.
“What’s his name?” Wyatt asked.
Nicole’s turn to blush, at least that’s what he told himself.
“Well, now that you mention it…”
Turned out she’d met a financial planner six months ago. They were very happy together. Which made Wyatt feel surprisingly better about things. Not that they owed each other anything, but still… Always nice to know the other person was happy, and all’s well that ends well.
“You’ll call me when you find the van?” Nicole requested now. “Or better yet, when you’ve located our three suspects.”
“Sure. Likewise?”
“Likewise.”
“Now go get some sleep. One of us has to.”
Wyatt hung up the phone. Then he laced his fingers behind his head, leaned back in his chair and frowned. Personal life aside, Nicole’s update on the missing funds bothered him. A van with three commandos and a body vanishing into thin air made some sense. The right pond, forest gully, overgrown pile of bramble. Plenty of places in the wilds of New Hampshire convenient for disappearing a vehicle. But the embezzled funds? Eleven million dollars that had been sitting around in a variety of fake bank accounts for the past fifteen or so years suddenly gone without a trace?
“Kevin,” he called out. Across the task-force room, where they’d spread out to do their paperwork, Kevin’s head popped up.
“What?”
“You’re a smart man. If you had eleven million dollars, what would you do with it?”
“Stuff my mattress,” the resident brainiac replied promptly. “Bedding doesn’t require any paperwork. Better yet, it can’t testify against you in a court of law.”
“But the funds were in the Bahamas just a week ago,” Wyatt countered. “In real bank accounts. That’s what Ruth Chan said. She went to steal the money back, so to speak, only to discover there were even more accounts than she’d suspected.” Which sparked another thought. “What’s harder to believe, Kevin? Getting away with embezzling from a major corporation for sixteen years? Or stealing the money, but not touching a penny of it during all that time?”
Kevin was intrigued. He pulled himself away from his own pile of paperwork and walked on over. “Implies the person didn’t need the money yet. Not a drug addict or a gambler skimming money to feed a habit. More like, a disgruntled employee building a rainy-day fund.”
Kevin raised an interesting point. Most embezzlement cases still went back to motive—addiction issues, pressing medical bills, perhaps alimony and/or child support that was squeezing the person’s bank account. But embezzlement was generally carried out by an employee with a high degree of financial knowledge and authority in the company. Meaning these were people who were intelligent, respected and trusted. Most didn’t go to the dark side without some kind of underlying justification.
“So we’re talking a patient person. No immediate pressing financial issues. He or she created the first fake company approximately sixteen years ago,” Wyatt reviewed out loud. “Then, maybe when that didn’t trigger any consequences, simply kept going along. One year into two, then five, then ten, fifteen…skimming money, always small amounts, nothing that would make the radar screen. So disciplined. Almost gamesmanship.”
Wyatt tried the word on for size, liked it. “We’re talking someone who most likely, at a certain point, embezzled for the sake of embezzling. A personal little secret that enabled her or him to giggle on the inside during all management meetings, whatever. The classic if-only-you-knew…
“Of course, all good things must come to an end. Which in this case is August, when purely by accident, Ruth Chan discovered the first fake vendor. She does a little more digging, gets her ducks in a row, then discloses the fraud to Justin four weeks ago.”
Kevin frowned at him. “Justin knew about the missing money for a whole four weeks.”
“Yes and no,” Wyatt found himself correcting. “At the time, Chan thought the total amount skimmed was only four hundred thousand, an amount more annoying than horrifying for a hundred-million-dollar company. In fact, Justin decided the amount was so low that, instead of involving the police, he devised a strategy for stealing his own money back. He sent Ruth Chan to the Bahamas to close out the fake account, except the money was literally transferred out the day before.”
“So when does Justin know the full extent of the damage?” Kevin asked.
“He…didn’t,” Wyatt murmured, thoughts hitting overdrive.
“Huh?”
“He didn’t. Chan called him Friday afternoon. Told him the one account had been closed already but didn’t mention anything else. She asked for more time to investigate instead. Then…just hours later, Justin and his family were abducted from their own home.”
Kevin was staring at him. “To cover up the embezzlement,” the brainiac stated, as if this should be obvious. “So Justin would never know about the full eleven million that had been stolen from his family firm.”
“Maybe.” When he walked through the timeline out loud, what Kevin said made sense. Ruth Chan discovered the embezzlement was actually twenty times worse than they’d suspected, and within hours, Justin had bee
n kidnapped. No such thing as coincidence in policing. Meaning the two events had to be connected. And yet. And yet…
“Ruth Chan!” Kevin declared abruptly. “She was the embezzler, and she arranged Justin’s kidnapping to cover up her own crime. Better yet, she’s not even in the country, meaning she has the perfect alibi.”
Wyatt frowned at him. “Without Ruth Chan, we wouldn’t even know there had been sixteen years of fake billing. Since when does the thief report the theft?”
“To evade suspicion?” Kevin suggested.
Wyatt rolled his eyes, shook his head. “Who knew?” he asked abruptly. “That’s the question we need to answer. Who knew Ruth Chan had discovered the fake vendors? Who knew Ruth Chan would be in the Bahamas Friday morning to close out the first account? Who had enough inside information to transfer out all the money one day prior, to get his or her ducks in a row…”
Wyatt’s eyes, suddenly widening.
“Ruth Chan told someone,” Kevin was saying. “Or Justin did. Someone they trusted, but shouldn’t have, obviously.”
“Or, she didn’t tell anyone at all. She didn’t even want to talk to Justin about it, right? Not until she’d done all her homework first. That’s the kind of person Ruth Chan is, meticulous, discreet. We didn’t understand that. We didn’t pay enough attention to that. If anyone talked, it wasn’t Ruth Chan, it was Justin. Shit, I gotta make a phone call!”
Chapter 42
ASHLYN NEVER MADE IT TO THE BEDROOM. After the past few days spent desperately anticipating sleeping in her own bed, she barely made it out of the shower before crashing with wet hair and a T-shirt on the family-room sofa.
I’d been on the phone while she showered. Talking to Tessa Leoni, who was kinder and gentler than I would’ve expected. She assured me she would personally handle the situation with Chris. With discretion, of course. As well as the appropriate use of force. Her tone told me enough and only made me like her more.
I wanted to feel satisfied. Vindicated as an appalled mother, a betrayed friend. All those times I’d had him over to my house. And, yes, somewhere along the way, it had become clear he harbored a schoolboy’s crush on me. Certainly, right after I learned of Justin’s affair, Chris starting hanging around the house more, clearly willing to be a shoulder to cry on.