“Give me the worst.” She braced herself.
“I went to the office to check on a couple more bank statements, but I’m pretty sure the total is six point eight million.
Five point three million and change is from the pension accounts, the rest from operating accounts. The good news is that I think the trust accounts are fine. It’s just SFI money. But there are nearly twenty-five accounts involved so far, invested through six banks and I don’t have information on all of them. There’s a small group of signers, but I may not have a comprehensive list.”
“That’s what you took away from me, the list of approved signers. I was going to give it to you.”
Kip arched an eyebrow and looked at her.
“Right,” she mumbled. “That’s your job.”
“Thank you for remembering that. And just because I’m feeding you doesn’t mean I’ve written you off as a suspect.”
She glared. Kip, with her curly black hair down and the casualness of an old Seahawks sweatshirt, looked like a completely different person. And she was being...impudent. She really hadn’t thought her capable of it. “Okay by me. Do this by the book,” she said. “Any idea of how?”
“Yes,” she said, her tone pert and satisfied. “I can’t discuss that with you in detail, of course. I could quote you the chapter and verse of the SFI Handbook.”
Her glare deepened. Kip was enjoying herself far too much.
“Any idea of who?”
The silence stretched, then Kip slowly said, “That’s another 42
thing I shouldn’t discuss with the client at this stage.”
Her voice was taut as she said, “I think you could make an exception in this case.” She expected a fiery retort. She could see it bubbling around Kip’s lips.
But then her mouth curved into a surprising smile. “Well, the head of the company gives me my marching orders and she just told me to do this by the book,” she said as lightly as she could manage. “She’ll have my head if I even bend a rule.”
So she was being inconsistent, but she didn’t appreciate having that pointed out to her. Tam surprised herself by laughing, though. She set the ice bag down and tucked into the chicken lo mein. “I don’t know how you could work for someone like that.”
“She pays well,” Kip said, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
Tam was feeling better with every bite. “Excellent choice,”
she said, indicating the lo mein. “What’s in there?” She prodded a large Styrofoam cup.
“Hot and sour soup.”
She was definitely feeling better. “I think separate bowls would be appropriate.”
Kip grinned and fetched two bowls and spoons. Tam ladled out her portion and inhaled the steam from the soup. She couldn’t believe she was sitting in Kip Barrett’s immaculate kitchen, chowing down on Chinese food and mostly sanguine about seven million dollars. The kitchen looked immaculate from lack of use rather than any neatness of habit, but the glimpse she’d had of the living room said Kip was either exceedingly tidy or never home long enough to disturb anything.
Focus, she told herself. Almost seven million dollars was missing. “You’ve made considerable progress. Thank you.”
“It’s all included in the service,” Kip said. Her light air faded as she said soberly, “I’m far enough along to do some fieldwork, so I may call in sick tomorrow so I can get to the local banks. I need to ETO the signature cards.”
“When this is done, I’ll make sure you get your leave back, and some time off to boot.”
“That will be very welcome. I’ll head back to the mountains.
43
They did me a world of good this weekend.”
She rubbed her cheekbone. “I wouldn’t say that.” Actually, she would. It wasn’t just the faded sweatshirt. There was color in her face and a sense of humor was evident. The shirt was far from shapeless and she found herself easily recalling the soft, melting firmness of Kip Barrett’s body. She stopped that train of thought, but remained surprised that she’d even had it. There were lots of attractive women in the world. She admired, but it wasn’t like her to ogle.
Kip crumbled her fortune cookie and read, “‘Watch out for turning tables.’ Well, that’s always good advice.”
Tam smoothed the pink slip of paper she’d extracted from her cookie. “‘To conquer temptation you must yield to it.’ Mothers everywhere would disagree.”
“Mine certainly would have,” Kip said. “And my grandfather had quite explicit ideas about that, too.” She added softly, “He really was one of those guys who ran alongside the limo.”
“So your file says.” Damn it all, she thought. “Look, you don’t have to tell me why and I’m not going to ask anymore.”
Kip had stiffened. Their gazes locked across the table.
Just when she thought Kip wasn’t going to respond, she said softly, “It’s not relevant to any work I may ever have to do for SFI.”Disappointed, but not surprised, Tam gestured at the food.
“Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.” She glanced down at her food and Tam puzzled at what might have been a faint flush over her cheeks.
“And thank you for the update. I know you’re working with limited access to information but go ahead with the ETO, full speed, and when you need more help we’ll get it.”
“Will do,” Kip said. She gave Tam a cheerful smile but something in her expression was not the least bit nonchalant. It didn’t seem the time to probe and after a little more conversation, she made her excuses and headed home. When she found it difficult to relax and sleep she blamed it on her black eye and seven million dollars missing.
44
When Kip locked her door behind Sterling, she leaned her forehead against it. “Stupid, stupid fool,” she muttered. She cradled her aching left hand against her stomach. Tamara had seemed too bemused to notice Kip hadn’t used it for much.
Thank goodness she’d used her left or she’d never have been able to handle the chopsticks. She picked up the ice bag Tamara had discarded and put it on her aching knuckles.
Once again, she was proven to be a papier mâché superhero.
One jab and she’d trashed her hand.
She sank down into a chair and stared into space. She was tired and, having gobbled dinner, she was also drowsy. There was more work she could do tonight, she told herself, so she went down to the parking garage for the boxes and her laptop.
It was difficult with one aching hand, but she managed to carry everything up and stow her laptop on her desk. Since she spent a lot of time working there, the cherry wood desk had the best window at the far end of the high-ceilinged living room.
The view from her second-floor window was of treetops in the park across the street. Pleasant enough, but no comparison to the view that would greet Tamara Sterling when she reached home.
Not that she wondered what Tamara Sterling would do with the rest of her evening. Sterling had never made any secret of her sexuality, so it wasn’t a total surprise that she’d use making out with a woman as a cover ploy. But her private life was zipped up tight, and Kip had no idea if Sterling was in a relationship or not.
Not that it was her concern—unless Sterling was her suspect, she reminded herself. Yes, she was merely focused on Sterling’s private life because she might be involved in the embezzlement, and if she wasn’t, it was Kip’s job to clear her of suspicion.
Glad to have sorted out her meandering thoughts, she almost switched the laptop on, then shook her head. Now she was too tired to work. Sleep would be better and she’d be more efficient for it in the morning.
45
Only when she settled into bed did she acknowledge that she was badly shaken by the incident in the elevator. When they’d entered it, she’d been on her guard for attack. Though her instincts said Tamara was not the embezzler, she had caught the woman in the midst of taking evidence. Thinking herself prepared had been false, though, since she’d still been caught off guard when Tamara had grabbed her, using height and strength to stifle her. It should have never gotten that far, but a flare of something Kip couldn’t even describe had slowed her reflexes.