“A good way, huh,” he said. “At least you didn’t do any permanent damage.”
“Not completely permanent, thankfully.” She stared at her hands. “Remember when you asked why I left my first job? The relationship gone wrong? I was so blind. So stupid back then.”
“What happened?”
Maybe if he knew the truth, he wouldn’t look at her with such suspicion in his eyes. The company had swept the mess under the rug. They’d all scuttled away like cockroaches when someone turned on the light.
“His name was Brian. He was a rising star in the company. Youngest ever CFO. He was handsome and charming. He was also cooking the books to hide the fact that the company wasn’t growing as fast as projected.”
Unloading the truth felt like releasing an incredible burden. She’d seen the signs, but she’d made excuses for him. She’d given Brian a chance to tell the truth, but he’d only sunk deeper into his lies. If he’d confided in her, she would have helped him. If he’d accepted his punishment, she’d have stood by him. If he’d admitted he’d made a mistake, she’d have forgiven him. But somewhere along the line he’d convinced himself that he deserved the money. There was always a point, in any fraud, when people decided the law didn’t apply to them.
“Let me guess,” Corbin said. “He also skimmed a little off the top for himself.”
“You guessed right.” She barked out a humorless laugh. “He tried to convince me that we’d both be considered guilty. That I should cover for him. Only he wasn’t smart enough to cover his tracks in the first place. He certainly wasn’t smart enough to frame someone else.” She stared at her hands. “After I turned him in, they asked for my resignation.”
“Bad publicity?”
She turned her quizzical gaze on him. “Yep. Wanted to erase all the reminders of what had happened.” Corbin seemed to understand how the business worked. “Then you understand why I had to do what I did.”
“And you have to understand, as well. This is my job. We’ve been over this. You were the one person who’d been linked to Cayman Holdings in both cases. Even you must see the connection.”
“No matter what they told you, I was a good employee. I did what I thought was right. If I’d let Brian get away with what he’d done, he’d have exploited another company. That’s what happens. Instead of being punished, bad employees are shuffled from one company to another to avoid embarrassment. In my line of work, I see it more than anyone. I stand by my decision.”
“You were right.” He paused. “I do owe you an apology. There was no blemish on your record. Merely a note that you’d left abruptly. I was fishing. Trying to see if there was anything else at work.”
Relief shuddered through her. “Now you know the truth.”
“I’m sorry about what happened.” He sighed. “People can be incredibly disappointing.”
She had a feeling he was thinking of a very specific person. Her. Yet she’d done nothing wrong. All she’d ever wanted to do was turn over the evidence without winding up in the morgue. She might have turned a blind eye. She’d be asleep in Chicago. She hadn’t. She couldn’t.
“Don’t get me wrong.” She tipped her head and stared at the popcorn ceiling. “I think Brian liked me. Maybe even loved me, in his own way. He thought I loved him enough to hide what he was doing. He was wrong.”
Corbin’s gaze grew intense. “And you never considered looking the other way?”
“Never. Probably sounds stupid, but I was raised on truth and justice.” She ducked her head and reached in her pocket. “Here’s the extra key card.”
Exhaustion was turning her batty. She was losing herself all over again—her resistance was down. She was adrift from everything that made her who she was—her name, her home, her work. Even her new clothing felt itchy and wrong. She craved a connection, something familiar and comforting.
“Beth,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think anyone else could have held up as well as you have.”
“Thank you.” A flush of heat crept up her neck. She wasn’t expecting his compliment. “You need to have that cut checked by a professional. If there’s any sign of infection. Any at all, we’ll have to risk visiting a clinic.”
She still had a chance to follow her original plan. She didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Least of all, Corbin. It was like Timothy all over again. She’d set this chain of events into motion, and it was her job to work out the difficulties.
Truth and justice were an illusion. She’d wanted to believe that good conquered evil. Her dad had encouraged the myth. He must have known the truth all along. Fighting injustice was an uphill, losing battle.
How did she untangle this mess without involving anyone else?
“A bit of advice,” Corbin said, sitting up straighter.
“Mmm-hmm?”
“I think you’re telling the truth, but I won’t know for sure until the email. Which means I also can’t stop you if you decide to leave tonight. But if you run, I will find you. And if I discover you’re involved, I’ll prosecute you to the full extent of the law.”
And just like that—her benevolent mood evaporated. All the exhaustion she’d been feeling flew away. That’s what she got for confiding in the man who thought she was laundering money for terrorists.
“I’m not the only one who got shot at tonight.” Her exhaustion had taken on a life of its own. She felt as though she’d separated from her body, and she was standing on the outside looking in on herself. “Did it ever occur to you that you might be wrong? I can disappear faster on my own. Maybe you’re the one who led those two men to me.”
He shook his head. “Did you ever consider the legal trouble you’re courting? I’m assuming a forensic accountant needs a higher level of trust than most other professionals. What happens if you come up in an internet search under suspicion of using a false identity? What if Quetech accuses you of stealing corporate secrets and we can’t prove you’re a whistle-blower? If that email doesn’t show up on Tuesday, it’s going to be even worse for you. Consider what you do next very carefully.”
In that instant, his words felt like the ultimate betrayal.
He didn’t trust her. He never would. She’d done what she thought was right on both occasions, and she’d gotten burned twice. What was the point of doing the right thing?
Trust was a fantasy. Moral bravery was a fairy tale told from a church pulpit. All anyone cared about was the bottom line. Greed always won. She might as well be tilting at windmills for all the good she was doing.
She hadn’t gotten the world and she’d still lost her soul. Her dad should have given her another Biblical quote. His favorite wasn’t working.
“Then you don’t trust me,” she said.
“I don’t trust myself.”
Her blood went from a simmer to a boil in a flash. “After everything I’ve done for you today, you still don’t believe I’m innocent?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with Sam’s death.”
“But you’re not certain about my involvement in the money laundering?”
“It’s my job to be suspicious. This will all be cleared up when your email arrives. Until then, you’re better off with me. Stick with being the real Beth Greenwood.”
“That’s rich, coming from you. What is that like? Seeing everyone as a corrupt?” She refused to moderate the shrill edge in voice. “You spent two weeks watching me. Spying on me! For all I know, you’ve been keeping track of me for the last two years. What is it like, suspecting that everyone you meet is deceiving you when all the while it’s you who’s lying?”
“You tell me, Beth. Why didn’t you ask someone for help?” His voice took on a steely edge. “Your dad was a cop, after all. Why didn’t you at least go to the police? Why don’t you trust anyone?”
“We’ve been over this. Homeland Security and the FBI couldn’t protect Timothy Swan. I didn’t trust them to protect me.”
“We didn’t know then what we know now. You don’t think we’re smart enough to put different protocols in place?”
If he hadn’t interfered, she’d be on the California Zephyr, enjoying a sandwich and watching the scenery. Acting independently was the only surefire way to know she wasn’t being deceived.
“You have no right to lecture me about trust,” she said at last.
That was the worst part—knowing he’d only been nice to her for the past two weeks because he wanted something. He was no different than Brian. She was a means to an end, not a person.
To think she’d even considered his invitation to coffee with any sincerity. If she hadn’t been trying to make a speedy getaway, she might have considered watching karaoke with him. Even after Brian, she was still the same trusting fool with bad instincts.
You’d think after all this time she’d have learned.
“Listen to me, Beth,” Corbin said, taking the key card from her limp hand. “I only have your best interests at heart. I’m trying to help you.”
“Really? Or are you trying to help yourself? Your career?”
A flash of guilt streaked across his features before he quickly schooled his expression. The betrayal slammed into her chest.
A memory jogged its way to the forefront. Quetech had been celebrating the September birthdays and anniversaries. One of those awkward events that she was uncomfortable attending. Yet she’d learned over the years that sitting at her desk only invited more attention. She’d been hovering in the doorway, ready to make an escape, when Corbin had caught her eye and waved her over.
She’d felt a camaraderie with him. A kinship. At the time, she’d thought she’d found an ally. A couple of newbies supporting each other. That was the worst part. Knowing that after all this time, she was still the same gullible fool falling for the same old manipulations.
He rested the extra key card on the nightstand. “This will all be finished soon enough.”
They were both exhausted and out of sorts. She sensed he was lashing out at her, but she didn’t know why. People were dying. Timothy. Sam. For what? So someone could set off a bomb and kill innocent people to make a point? What a waste.
She stood and tossed his bag of supplies next to the key card. “You’ll just have to wait and find out if I’m here in the morning, won’t you?”
He already thought the worst of her, what was the point in trying to change his mind?
SEVEN
Corbin welcomed the distracting pain as he dressed on Saturday. He owed Beth an apology. If she’d stuck around.
He smoothed the bandage on his arm and flexed his fingers. She’d done excellent work dressing his injury considering she was an accountant and not an EMT.
Sitting next to her, his defenses weakened by hours on high alert, he’d actually thought about kissing her. The idea had seemed so natural at the time, almost inevitable—though he’d suffer the consequences both personally and professionally later. She was under his protection, and even the idea of taking advantage of her vulnerability made him the worst sort of jerk.
Bracing one hand against the sink, he stared at the patterned tile floor. How would he explain that to Baker? Well, boss, I was tired, and I’ve been thinking about her a lot the past few weeks. She has the most beautiful green eyes, and she smells exquisite.
At best he’d receive a rebuke, at worst he’d be out of a job.
He splashed cold water on his face and sipped the weak brew the tiny coffeemaker had produced. He’d washed out his bloodied clothes, but there was no disguising the tears in the sleeves of his shirt and coat. After donning his jacket, he slipped from the room. At half past seven in the morning, the hotel corridor was deserted.
He’d placed a snare to see if Beth had left during the night. As he crouched to check the spot, an unexpected surge of adrenaline jolted through him. He caught sight of the strip of medical tape near the bottom of the door and heaved a sigh.
She’d stayed.
His arm ached, and he rolled his shoulder a few times. Despite the throbbing pain, he’d managed to sleep for a few hours. He functioned well with limited amounts of rest; a skill left over from his military days.
He doubted Beth had the same endurance—she’d been a nervous wreck the previous day, and probably hadn’t slept much in the past week. Instead of waking her, he slipped a hastily scrawled note beneath her door telling her he’d be back soon.
He lingered a moment before pivoting on his heel. She had every right to be angry with him. She’d confided in him last evening, and he’d shoved her trust back in her face with his accusations. He didn’t know why he’d done it; he only knew he couldn’t seem to think straight when he was around her.
Who was he fooling? He knew exactly why he’d pushed her away. He’d pushed her away because she trusted him. She was under his protection. He was afraid if she let him kiss her, he’d have to acknowledge his feelings.
He was attracted to her. Drawn to her sharp wit and keen intelligence. He sensed she liked him, too. A little. When he wasn’t acting like a jerk.
Forgoing the elevator, he took the stairs to the lobby. He found the business center and surfed through the local advertisements on the hotel computer until he discovered what he was looking for, then visited the ATM and withdrew the maximum allotted cash. He’d make do for now.
He checked the time and decided to kill another hour while Beth slept. He returned to the computer and did a few searches.
She’d left her previous job because of a failed relationship. He’d seen a name on her file, and now he was curious.
Brian Wilkins, the most likely candidate to be her previous boyfriend, was a former CFO of TriCourt Industries who’d spent sixteen months in federal prison for embezzlement and falsifying records. He’d been ordered to pay restitution, but an investigator calculated that the company had only recovered half of the missing funds. Corbin scrolled through a few more screens. According to his hometown newspaper, Brian had decided to see the world from a sailboat upon his release.
Corbin grunted. Figured. People who embezzled money bought boats and disappeared. Beth was better off without the loser.
Glancing at the clock, he decided to read the complimentary newspaper he’d grabbed from the tall stack and did the crossword puzzle in ink—only crossing out one mistake. The clerk was the same young man who’d been there the previous evening, and the two shared a commiserating look as Corbin tossed the newspaper into the recycle bin.
He took the steps two at a time to the fourth floor before deciding to go all the way to the top. When he reached the ladder to the roof, he jogged to the bottom floor and repeated the maneuver twice more. The exercise got his blood pumping, and he was feeling almost normal by the time he returned to his room.
As he passed Beth’s door, his gaze snagged on a dangling piece of white tape. His pulse jumped. The marker was missing. He knocked on the door and held his ear closer. Nothing. He didn’t have a key to her room, but there was the adjoining door between them.
His ears buzzed. Turning the latch slowly, he pressed open the door to his room. Nothing appeared disturbed or out of place.
How much time had his exercise on the stairwell taken? Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty at the most. There was a chance someone had grabbed her while he jogged the stairs, but he doubted it. Not without causing a commotion.
Still, he kept his movements silent as he passed through his room. He drew his gun before testing the knob. She hadn’t set the bolt. The door swung open with a squeak.
He sensed the room was deserted even before he stepped over the threshold. Empty spaces had a distinctive, hollow feel to them.
The room appeared pristine. Untouched. As though housekeeping had just exited. Perpl
exed, he hovered on the threshold. The bed was made with crisp precision. As though it had never been slept in. He half expected to see a wrapped mint on the fluffed pillows, but the hotel wasn’t that luxurious.
He lowered his gun to his side. She hadn’t left after their conversation the previous evening—the marker had been in place earlier. Maybe she’d caught a few hours of sleep before slipping past him in the lobby.
He couldn’t say she hadn’t warned him.
Annoyance tripped along the edges of his exhaustion. She wouldn’t get very far this time—not with an APB out for her arrest. He’d also made a note of the alias she was using when she secured their rooms the previous evening.
Holstering his gun, he nudged open the door to the bathroom. The pink floral bag of toiletries rested on the counter. A single towel had been hung out to dry.
Corbin scratched his temple. Why leave the supplies she’d purchased only last night? His note was perched on the top of the trash.
As he contemplated the bathroom, the room door swung open. He flattened his back against the wall and peered through the crack.
Beth stepped into the room, a tray of food in her outstretched hands.
He waited until she’d safely set down her burden before loudly clearing his throat as he stepped from the bathroom.
She shrieked and stumbled backward. “You scared me to death.” She pressed her hand over her heart. “What were you doing lurking in there?”
“I, um, you didn’t answer when I knocked.” He stared at the patterned rug. “I was worried.”
“Really?” She crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on her biceps. “Or did you think I’d run and you were searching my room?”
He shifted from foot to foot. “Looks like you found the complimentary breakfast buffet.”
“That’s not an answer.” She huffed and waved her hand over the tray. “There wasn’t much selection, but I got a little bit of everything.”
“You did mention that you might not be here today.”
No Safe Place Page 10
