Marie Ferrarella - The Coltons - Nick, Clay & Jericho

“The tapes?” he prodded.

Embarrassed, the manager’s face turned a light shade of red. “Yes, of course. Right this way.” He led them to a small back room where all their monitors and tapes were kept.

Georgie was barely aware of Sheffield leaving. Very slowly, as if she’d just aged fifty years, she gripped the side arms and lowered herself into the manager’s chair. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the streamlined, black phone closer to her on the desk.

“It’s gonna be all right, Mama,” Emmie assured her quietly. She offered her mother a big, broad smile.

Georgie almost cried.

She looked into the small, perfect face. That was supposed to be her line. She was the one who was supposed to do the comforting, not be the one on the receiving end.

Doing her best to rally, she gave the little girl’s hand a quick squeeze. “Of course it is, Emmie. I just have to make a few calls, get a few things straightened out, that’s all.”

Georgie hoped to God she sounded convincing.

“It was her.” The manager repeated nervously as he entered the small, darkened room. Nick was directly behind him. “The tape’ll prove it.”

So he’d already said. But the more the manager echoed his statement, the less inclined Nick was to believe that Georgie had actually closed her account. Why go through this big act if she knew it was closed? For whose benefit?

The pieces just didn’t fit together.

“Let’s just see it” was all that Nick said in response.

He noted that the bank manager seemed to be growing more agitated. Because he’d made a mistake? Or because he was guilty of something? There was no way to tell—yet. This situation was getting messier by the minute.

“Right,” Collins agreed, as if forcing himself to sound cheerful. Opening the deep drawer where surveillance tapes from the last month were kept, he rummaged around. “Somebody took them out of order,” he complained. He read the dates marked on the side of the tapes under his breath. “Finally.” He flashed a smile at Nick, then let it fade when all he got in response was a stony stare.

Plucking out of the drawer the tape in question, he held it up like a trophy. “Here it is,” he declared with relief, as if the mere finding of the tape would somehow vindicate him.

Nick nodded toward the video player. “Play it,” he instructed.

“Yes, of course.” But Collins continued holding the tape in his hands in a manner that indicated he didn’t know which end played. “Abby?” Collins turned toward the teller directly outside the small room where the video equipment was kept. “Would you play this for Mr. Sheffield?”

Abby entered dressed in a turquoise skirt so tight it resembled a tourniquet. Her eyes swept over Nick slowly, taking in every inch from head to toe. The appreciative smile was quick in coming.

She’d taken measure of him, Nick thought. As an expert on body language, he could tell she liked what she’d seen.

Abby took the tape from the manager, but her eyes remained on Nick. “It’ll be my extreme pleasure,” she purred.

Tape in hand, Abby sat down at the video recorder, taking care to sit slow enough to better show off the more compelling parts of her anatomy. Tucking her legs over to one side, she leaned forward and popped the tape into the machine. After glancing over her shoulder at Nick, she hit Play.

“Here we go,” she announced.

The time stamp in the corner said it was nine o’clock, which was when the bank opened its doors. Nick had no desire to stand behind the brassy blonde and watch an entire day’s worth of transactions.

“Fast forward it,” he told her.

Again, she looked over her shoulder at him, her smile particularly seductive.

“Whatever you want,” Abby said, her tone indicating that she was open to more than working the buttons on the machine.

Nick ignored her the way he did anything he didn’t particularly care for. Focusing solely on the activity on the screen, he watched and waited. Customer after customer came and went across it, all of them resembling characters going through their paces in a keystone cops silent movie.

And then he saw her. Georgie. Tight jeans, work shirt, worn boots and all.

“Slow it down right there,” he ordered. Abby complied. It was obvious she had no idea what he was looking for, nor did she want to know.

Nick caught his breath.

There, on the screen, with her telltale red braid hanging down to the small of her back, was Georgie Grady.

Chapter 7

“That’s her,” Collins said eagerly, needlessly pointing to the screen at the only bank customer on the monitor. There was relief in his voice as he added, “I told you she was here.”

Nick ignored the man. He was too busy watching the woman, who was a dead ringer for Georgie, move up to the teller’s window and place a briefcase on the counter between them.

“Keep going,” he told Abby when she glanced up at him.

The teller on the tape disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he had an index card with him. The signature card, Nick assumed. Within moments of signing the card, the transaction was completed. The woman on the screen took back her briefcase, now filled with what he assumed were the proceeds from her account, and then hurriedly moved away. Nick watched the scene intently.

“Rewind,” he instructed. When Abby did as he asked, he had her stop at the same place as before and watched the scene again. And then a third time.

Puzzled, Collins looked at him. “What is it you’re looking for?”

Nick blew out a breath, still looking at the screen. “An explanation.”

This time it was the teller who glanced up at him and asked a question. “For?”

“For starters, why ‘Georgie’ kept her head turned away from the camera the whole time.” Was it just a coincidence, or was there a reason the woman on the screen had done that?

Something wasn’t quite right and he couldn’t put his finger on it. Yet. He told Abby to play the tape one more time.

“Most people don’t even realize that there’s a camera there,” Collins told him, trying to be helpful. “Ms. Grady was probably lost in thought and just in a hurry to do whatever it was she wanted to do with all that money she withdrew.”

“I know what I’d do,” Abby commented. The smile on her lips was seductive as she gazed up at the tall, dark Secret Service Agent at her side.

“Uh-huh,” Nick answered, lost in thought. It wasn’t clear who the response was directed toward. “Play it again,” he instructed.

Maybe he was making too much of this, Nick thought, watching the scene for the fifth time. Maybe he was looking for a zebra when there was a bucking horse right in front of him. After all, the bank manager was certain that the woman on the video tape was Georgie Grady and that did, after all, support his initial theory that the woman had been here all along, sending those threatening e-mails to the Senator that she’d denied having anything to do with it.

Here it was, all neatly gift wrapped for him with a bow on top and he was pushing it away, Nick upbraided himself.

All that was left to do was to arrest the woman and bring her back with him for prosecution.

So why was he hesitating?

Because his gut told him something wasn’t right? Or because something a bit lower than his gut was muddying up his thinking?

No, damn it, he wasn’t the type to let his personal feelings—when he even had them—to get in the way of his judgment. There was something wrong with what he was watching on the tape and he thought he finally had a bead on what it was.

A noise directly behind him had Nick quickly turning around, one hand on the hilt of the weapon he wore.

Georgie was in the doorway, her face ashen. Not because of the firearm. The woman had probably grown up around guns all of her life. No, there was a different reason for the lack of color in her face. One hand on the doorjamb, she looked as if she was struggling to stand up.