Lisa Gardner - Touch & Go

“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…