“Thanks, Mercedes. Yes, I’ll take a jacket. Now go home to your family, would you?”
Tamara Sterling tapped off her mobile, knowing Mercedes wouldn’t leave for a few more minutes. The fax to the client in Hawaii would be securely received before she left. That was her job and she was going to do her job and what part of that was so difficult for Tam to understand? Wasn’t that why she hired people and paid them so regularly and handsomely? Not a conversation Tam wanted to repeat, certainly not tonight, especially when she knew Mercedes would have the last word because she was, as usual, right.
Even though she was not quite packed for her flight, Tam gave herself three minutes in the living room with a cup of her favorite coffee. She rarely got to linger in front of the view these days. It did little to ease the gnawing heartsick feeling in the pit of her stomach, the feeling she’d had ever since she’d found a photocopy of an SFI bank statement next to the server array. It had been purely accidental. She’d cast a professional eye over it without thinking, and hadn’t believed what her instincts had told her: the statement had been altered.
If she started hanging around and peeking into files it might tip off the embezzler. She hoped that the several days she’d waited before seeking help hadn’t made matters worse.
The ring of the doorbell drew her away from the window. Speaking of help, she thought. She had known from Kip Barrett’s supervisor’s reports that she was a capable, experienced investigator, but she hadn’t expected her to be so straitlaced. She appeared to have as much sense of humor as a rainy day. Of course, what did humor count for when she had handled that awkward moment with Ted so competently? She either had nerves of steel or no nerves at all.
She suspected the latter and idly wondered if she’d ever know for sure.
“I hope I’m not too late.” Barrett slipped into the foyer.
Her watch told her it was eight thirty-one. “Not at all.”
She was still in her suit from earlier in the day, but Tam thought she caught a faint aroma of sweets and coffee, as if she’d been to a restaurant. She didn’t exactly look like she’d been on a date. None of her business. Everybody needs to eat, she reminded herself.
She started to lead the way to the garage but Barrett froze at her first sight of the view from the living room. Everybody did that.
“Holy wow.”
“It is lovely, isn’t it?” She let her have a good, long look. In her opinion, this ridge on the west side of Queen Anne Hill provided the most spectacular view of Seattle money could buy. The house was small, a custom design dating from the Sixties, and its trim outline was nestled into the height of the ridge, surrounded by trees and sky. The city glowed with mesmerizing activity. Lights pooled to the north and south in all colors. The glow ended abruptly at the shoreline, then began again across the sound in Bremerton. From the master bedroom, though she’d hardly take an employee there even if the view was spectacular, the Space Needle pierced the sky.
“It’s stunning.” Barrett pushed her car keys into her pocket. “Friends from New York keep trying to get me to move there, but I’m devoted to Seattle. Views like these are one reason why.”
Certain she wouldn’t get an answer, but curious about how Barrett would react, she asked, “But you considered living in D.C., didn’t you?”
The openness of Barrett’s expression turned brittle. She turned away from the view to face her. “You’re persistent, Ms. Sterling.”
“Call me Tamara, please.”
It was a very cool smile. “Personal is personal, Tamara.”
She let her smile turn cool as well. There was no mention of why Barrett had left the Secret Service in her file, and the mystery frustrated her. All mysteries frustrated her, a trait that was useful, though Mercedes had told her once that if she ever got answers to all her questions the earth would spin backward. “The boxes are in my trunk. I wasn’t sure this morning if I would need to meet you somewhere else.”
“You were sure I’d say yes.” Barrett’s voice was carefully expressionless, but Tam thought she heard a hint of irritation.
“Yes, I was.” She glanced at her over her shoulder as she led the way. Barrett looked slightly miffed, but the change of expression on her face was so minor she might have imagined it. Kip Barrett should be playing poker with that face. Attractive—absolutely, especially the luminous blue eyes—but the face was carved in stone. She’d spent years learning to read many different kinds of people, but Kip tested her experience.
She triggered the garage door and opened the back hatch of her Pathfinder. Kip used her key fob to open the trunk of a trim Camry, then came back for a box. Glancing into the trunk, she gave a tiny sigh.
“Too heavy for you?” Tam paused, wondering if the petite Barrett found lifting boxes full of paper a challenge. Based on her Secret Service profile and trim physique, Tam would have thought that she had plenty of physical strength.
“Oh no,” Kip said. “I was just wondering where I’d start.” She lifted a box out easily and headed for her car.
“I began cataloging, and the box you have has the thumb drive with the worksheet I’d started. I’ll get the last one.”
As Tam slid the last box into the Camry’s trunk, she saw an overnight bag. She was briefly torn again—was Barrett meeting someone? Discussing or conducting work in front of even the most trusted spouse or companion was a breach of their work code. She realized that meant Barrett couldn’t work at the office, nor could she work at home if she didn’t live alone. Rock and a hard place. “Where are you off to?”
Barrett looked startled, then said, “A weekend near Olympic. There’s a place I like to go to breathe. But my laptop’s on the backseat, so I’ll make a great deal of headway.”
Alone then, it sounded like. Could she really trust her? Damn…someone stealing from the company was making her suspect everyone of double meanings and hidden agendas. Just today she’d been second-guessing Ted, wondering if Ted had really laid the groundwork for three very lucrative contracts on his New York trip last week. Ted talked a lot, did bring in clients, but sometimes the smoke was a little thick.
Stupid waste of time, all these suspicions. She managed a smile as she slammed the trunk. “Don’t spend the whole weekend on it. Just most of it.”
Barrett saluted her again, but this time with a decidedly mocking flip to her hand, and got into her car. So she had a sense of humor after all, but it made the Sahara look like a rainforest.
She watched the taillights until the road curved out of sight. What did Barrett’s sense of humor matter when someone was stealing from SFI? The money was a blow, but the betrayal of a staff member felt very personal.
She stiffened her shoulders, aware of the passing minutes. She didn’t have the energy for useless speculation. She’d be in New York before the sun rose there and home again in slightly more than twenty-four hours from when she’d left. She couldn’t remember a time as an adult when she’d been more depressed and tired than she was now. A break, like a day on the water, didn’t seem likely for several weeks. But she already felt some relief for the burden Barrett had accepted.
Her mobile chirped as she walked back into the house. She answered, expecting Mercedes.
Instead, Nadia’s cool voice flowed out of the phone. “I heard you’re off to New York.”
“Blame your husband,” Tamara said lightly. “He arranged the new client.”
“You’ll be back in time for the fundraiser, won’t you?”
“Yes. I’m only gone for a day.”
“Sounds exhausting. I could always drop by Sunday and make you a home-cooked meal.”
“Since when have you cooked?”
Nadia’s low, throaty laugh was one of her most attractive features, and Tam was momentarily glad simply to enjoy it—it was a beautiful sound. “Okay, I admit it. I could bring you dinner from an outside source.”
“That won’t be necessary, sisterfriend.”
“You’re no fun, Tam. You never were.”
“No, none at all.” She abruptly realized she was too tired to keep up with Nadia. “I’m late for the airport.”
“Sorry, darling. You will be there Monday night, then?”
“Yes, as I said. And I’ll see you Tuesday night too, if you’re joining Ted for the client appreciation reception.” After Nadia agreed, she clicked off and hurried to the bedroom to finish packing her carry-on.
In the twin beams of her headlights on the asphalt she abruptly saw Nadia Langhorn and Kip Barrett, side-by-side. They were a study in contrasts, in shadow and light. Nadia never approached any goal directly. The friendly call had been about something else and she would know in due time. Kip Barrett, on the other hand, seemed the type to lock sights on the target and take the shortest route.
There was nothing useful to the comparison, so she did what she always did with irrelevancies: she unlocked the door in her mind, put the thought away and turned the key again.
By the time she boarded her flight her head was clear. She read reports until her vision blurred, then fell asleep somewhere over the Great Lakes.