Authors: Donna Richards
“Probably just the moonlight.”
“You’re probably right.” Her mother laughed. “How much can a person grow in a month?”
More than you would suspect
, Angie silently answered. “How was your trip?” Stephen pulled some suitcases from the back and joined them as they walked toward the house.
“Wonderful,” her mother answered. “Ceal mended quickly and we got to spend time together. Plus, I took orders for three quilts while I was down there. Isn’t that wonderful?” She squeezed Angie’s hand. “You know we can always use the money.”
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Reality settled over Angie like a shroud. The loss of her job meant the loss of her health insurance and coverage for her expensive medications.
The sale of a few quilts wouldn’t begin to cover their needs. “Mom,” she said. “We need to talk…”
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Angie angled her car into the employee parking lot at Hayden. The prospect of having to eat crow in front of Hank Renard curdled in her stomach. Stephen couldn’t offer her the kind of insurance benefits she needed even if she worked full-time. He had Raymond working for him now and Raymond’s medical needs weren’t as demanding as her own.
She took a deep breath and stepped from the Civic, tightening her coat against a frigid wind.
“Angela, what are you doing here?” Tom Wilson loomed at her elbow.
“I thought you had finished with your field work.”
“We were…are,” she stumbled, wishing she had checked the rearview mirror before exiting her car. She hadn’t quite worked out how to explain her presence. “I…I just wanted to clear up a few points with Mr. Renard.”
“Are you sure it’s not something I can help you with?” he asked smoothly. “Henry hasn’t recovered from his trip last week. He has a very full schedule.”
“He’s expecting me,” Angie added quickly, scolding herself for not parking in the visitors’ lot. If she had, she’d be inside the building by now.
“Is he really?” Was it surprise or sarcasm she heard in Wilson’s voice? “He didn’t say anything about a morning appointment to me.”
“I didn’t know you functioned as his secretary,” Angela replied.
He laughed, little puffs of heated air lifted around his head. “I guess I deserved that. I meant to say that I also have a morning meeting with Henry. I didn’t realize he was so tightly scheduled.”
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Angela reached for the door handle, but Wilson beat her to it. He held it open and she mumbled her thanks as she passed into the warmth of the building interior. “Stop by before you leave, Angie,” Tom said, following her inside. “I found some of those missing documents you were requesting.” She nodded and he turned down the hall towards the accounting department.
Angie hesitated before she slipped out of her coat, then tossed it over her arm. Relieved that the receptionist hadn’t arrived yet, she continued down the hall. Would he gloat when he saw her? Would he retract his offer of employment? Her heart pounded with each step. Was she a fool for coming here?
She reached his office door and raised her hand to knock when it opened from the inside. She looked up from the broad chest filling the doorway to the talented lips that filled her dreams. She smiled weakly.
“You said something about a job?”
“Angie!” Hank latched onto her arm and roughly pulled her into the office before pushing the door closed. He held her at arm’s length a moment, then somewhat self-consciously crammed his hands into his pockets.
“I thought you’d decided to work for your brother.” He meandered behind his desk, then picked up a silver pen and tapped it on the desk.
“I changed my mind,” she lied. He didn’t need to know Stephen refused to hire her fulltime. “You were right when you said I should do something accounting related. That is, after all, what I’ve been trained for.” She placed her coat over the back of a chair and clasped her hands behind her back, unsure what else to do with them. Holding her breath, she forced her gaze to travel from the knot of his necktie, past his smile to his eyes. Even as she tried to suppress it, desire surged through her bloodstream. Her knees threatened to buckle. “Do you still want me?”
A smile unfolded slowly across his face, his dimple flashed, his eyes crinkled. “More than ever,” He moved toward her with outstretched arms.
She stepped back out of his reach. “I mean for the job.” Her heart pounded in her throat, raising her voice an octave. “Is it still available?”
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He hesitated, dropped his arms and walked back to his desk to examine the silver pen. “We have to iron out some details, but, yes. It’s still available.”
“What kind of details?” she asked suspiciously.
“Salary. Duties. Title. Whether or not you still hate me.”
“I do.” She thought she saw him wince ever so slightly. The reaction didn’t give her the pleasure she thought it might.
He coughed. “Then this is to be strictly business?”
“If I’m to work here, yes.”
He exhaled a held breath, then studied her a moment. “Sit down.” He stepped around his desk to his chair. “You never told me about your excursion with Max. What were you after?”
“I’d rather not say. It was just a hunch. Something I wanted to check out. We didn’t find anything so there’s no point rehashing the whole thing.” She stalled. If she was to work with these people on a full time basis, she’d best not burn bridges by verbalizing her suspicions.
“I see. The reason I ask is that I’ve had a few ‘hunches’ myself. I think I mentioned that the inventory turnover statistics don’t come close to the industry norms. I should be seeing stockpiles of excess inventory in the warehouse, and I’m not.”
“You think someone is stealing?”
He nodded. “I don’t know who or how. But I think maybe you’ve come to a similar conclusion.”
It was her turn to nod. “I’ve noticed some aberrations in your accounts payable. Nothing really obvious, but suspicious. That’s what Max and I went to check out, but we didn’t find anything.”
“Here’s my plan. I want to hire you to investigate further and see if you can find any evidence of fraud or misappropriation of assets. You’ll report directly to me.”
“Do I have some sort of title?”
“Director of Internal Audit.” He chuckled beneath his breath. “Maybe that’ll scare the guilty party and flush them out. Are you game?”
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She cleared her throat. “What about compensation?”
“Falstaff told me how much they were paying you.” Apparently, nothing about her life was private, she thought disgruntled. “I’ll increase your pay by fifteen percent and pick up your insurance payments until you’re covered under our plan. You can work it out with the personnel department.”
That was a relief. “What about my office? Where do I work?”
“That’s a tough one.” He thought for a moment. “For now you can use Jim Owens’s office next door.”
She nodded and looked around, uncertain what to do next.
“Angie.” She looked up; his voice had lost its hard executive edge.
“I’m glad you decided to come here. I’m sorry for what happened, but that’s not the reason I’m hiring you. I really do need your expertise.”
She cleared her throat to move the lump settling there. “I guess I should get started then.” She turned toward the door, but Hank beat her to the doorknob.
“I understand it’s a tradition here that the boss takes new hires to lunch on their first day.” His lips twisted in that sideways smile she loved. An ache formed in her chest. It wasn’t going to be easy working so close to him.
“Tradition? When did this tradition start?”
“Today.” He smiled and pulled the door open. Angie stepped into the hallway and saw Tom Wilson approach the office. Hank followed her out.
“I’ll see you about eleven-thirty, then?” He glanced up. “Tom, I want you to meet our new internal auditor.”
“Angie?” He stopped in his tracks. “You’re going to be working here?
Full-time?”
“Yes. I guess that means we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”
“But what happened to Falstaff and Watterson?”
“Mr. Renard made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” She turned to Hank,
“But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer of lunch.”
“I guess congratulations are in order.” Wilson held out his hand.
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Angie accepted his clammy handshake, purposefully avoiding Hank’s frown. No way would she accompany him on a private lunch. Some temptations were too powerful. Best to avoid them all together. “I’ll stop by in an hour or so to pick up those invoice copies,” she told Wilson.
“Right after I set up my office and talk to personnel.”
“R…Right,” Wilson replied before following Hank back into his office.
The door must have caught a draft. The wall shook when it slammed.
* * *
After retrieving the missing documents from Tom Wilson, Angie requested and received the vendor file for Timone Industries. Fortunately Owens’s office had a locking door for privacy and a large table for her armload of papers. She submersed herself in detail. Tracking the movement of individual transactions through stacks of paper completely absorbed her thoughts. Sometime later a knock at the door jolted her concentration.
“I just wanted to check and see if you were still alive.” Hank lingered at the door. “Most of the crew left at five.”
She glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. “Oh no. My mother’s probably having a fit.” She quickly stood and grabbed her coat from the rack in the corner. “I didn’t realize how late it was. Thanks for checking on me.”
She pulled open a desk drawer and removed her purse before hurrying past Hank without a word.
“Wait--” His footsteps thudded behind her. “I thought we could discuss what you’ve uncovered over dinner?”
“No time.” She pushed open the outside door. “Maybe later.” She walked briskly to her car, leaving little puffs of steam in her wake.
The interior of the Civic was slightly warmer than the air outside. She started the engine and put it in gear, not waiting for it to warm up. After backing out of her spot, she braked slightly before shifting into Drive.
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by her hip. The forced air pouring out the vents contained a little heat, and the fog on the windshield rapidly retreated.
The oncoming headlights thinned out as she left the industrial park and entered a residential area. Approaching a four-way stop at the top of a small hill, she sought the brake pedal and pushed down gently. The brake offered no resistance. Her foot slapped the floor.
A minivan pulled into the intersection in front of her, turning in her direction.
“No!” She screamed. Her car rushed towards the minivan’s
midsection. She caught a glance of the teenage driver’s panicked face one second before she jerked the steering wheel toward the curb. The front bumper of her car narrowly missed the taillights of the minivan, but the car’s back end continued in a collision course. The crunch of metal exploded like gunshot. The seatbelt pressed hard against her chest. The car shuddered then stopped.
Hank absently drove home while rehashing his conversation with Angie over and over in his head. What did he say that caused her to avoid him all afternoon? Would every day be like this? His mind churned over the day’s events while his car moved forward on autopilot. Flashing beacons of police cruisers and flares on the roadside up ahead intruded on his thoughts. He reassessed his surroundings. Schrock Road. He smiled. His subconscious had pulled him towards Angie’s house. And if his subconscious mind wanted him to go there, who was he to consciously refuse?
He neared the flares and slowed down. Two cars were off to the side of the road. He edged his car past the policeman signaling traffic and glanced right at the wreckage. Angie sat in the driver’s seat of one of the mutilated cars, her hand pressed to her heart as if pledging allegiance.
She nodded to a police officer through the open car door.
“Angie!” He yelled as if his voice would travel through his closed window. He cleared the flares and jerked his car to the side of the road.
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With little regard for oncoming traffic, he exited his car and ran back to her.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” He turned to the policewoman before Angie could respond. “Is she all right?”
“I’m fine.” Angie put her hand on his coat sleeve.
“She seems a little shaken up, but otherwise okay.” The officer paused in her writing. “Are you her husband?”
“No.” They answered simultaneously. “Just a friend,” Hank added.
“Well, I think I’ve gotten all the information I need here. Give me a few minutes to finish this paperwork and you can give your friend a lift home.” The officer stepped back and headed for her vehicle.
“Your heart, you’re pressing your heart,” Hank said. “Do we need to go to the emergency room? Should someone check you out?” His own heart pounded as if he had run a marathon to reach her rather than a few yards. His thoughts jumbled in chaotic disorder. The sight of Elizabeth in the hospital hadn’t thrown him into this kind of panic.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine,” she repeated patiently, patting her chest. “A little confused, but fine.”
“Confused? Did you hit your head? Maybe you have a concussion.”
“Will you stop that?” She pushed him away from his close
examination of her skull. “I swear you’re as bad as my brother. I meant I don’t understand how this could have happened.”
Although his instinct was to gather her up in his arms and rush her to the nearest emergency room, he resisted. He forcibly slowed his breathing to match her calm exterior. “What do you mean?”