by Clare Revell
But it was too late. No one could rescue her now.
She’d gone over and over the files and come to a conclusion. It could only be one of two people behind this, but the way the files read, it pointed to her. She sniffed and wiped her sleeve over her face before covering her head in her hands. What do I do now, Lord? Show me how to put this right? Because Adam is going to come to the same conclusion I have. And the main bulk of the evidence points squarely at me. I’m going down for this, aren’t I?
“Sam?”
She glanced up. Didn’t anyone know how to knock in this place? “Yes, Peter?”
He came in and perched on her desk. “You need to get out of here for the weekend.”
“I can’t. I have a shed load of work to do…”
He looked at the files and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t want to bother with this.” Peter’s hand ran down her arm, rubbing it. “You need to go away for the weekend. Leave this all behind. The files will still be here on Monday.”
She thought for a moment. He did have a point. She needed to get out of here to think and pray— about work, and most importantly about Adam. She still cared for him, loved him. But would it be easier to wade through the pain and hurt both of them still felt and try to find a resolution? Or just let him go and suffer the agonies of divorce? Her aunt had a cottage on the coast. She left the key with a neighbor when she was away and Sam could go and stay anytime. It would be the perfect place to hide and think for a few days. If her aunt was there, she could talk to her. If she were away, then Sam would have all the peace and quiet she needed.
“You know, you may have a point there.” Sam nodded slowly, looking up as the door opened again. Was she going to have to teach everyone in this building to knock? She’d send the memo before she left for the weekend. “Yes?”
“These were just delivered for you.” Her PA held out a bunch of flowers.
Sam took them. “Thanks.” She inhaled deeply and looked at the card. I’m sorry. Talk Monday. A.
“Who are they from?” Peter asked.
Sam shrugged. “No one important.”
“Now out you go.”
“But the flowers…”
“Leave them. Like you said, he’s no one important.”
Sam looked at him and then at the flowers. She hadn’t said who’d sent them. Why would Peter assume it was a he? “I’ll put them in water first,” she said. “It seems a shame to waste them. I love sweet peas.” She unwrapped them and replaced the dead ones in the vase. She turned to pick up the card, but it wasn’t there. She had a quick look, but it had vanished.
Peter looked at her. “Go on. Time’s a’wasting.”
“Once I’ve cleared my desk.” She gathered all the files. Peter seemed in a hurry to be rid of her and she wasn’t going to leave anything lying around.
He sighed. “Fine, but I’m coming back in ten minutes and you’d better be gone.”
“Have a good weekend, Peter.” Sam shoved the files into the bottom drawer of her desk and locked it. She had a last look for the card, before leaving her office and heading to the lifts. She’d leave the wedding ring and chain at home in her bedroom. Because from where she stood now, it looked like her marriage was well and truly over.
9
Sam walked up the path to her aunt’s cottage. It hadn’t changed over the years. Thatched roof, leaded windows and roses growing on the trellis around the door frame. It had been too long since she’d been here the last time; in fact, Adam had accompanied her then. And he’d driven.
This time she’d gone home, packed, then returned to work and left her car in its usual space. The train station was across the road from the office and she’d caught the overnight train to Devon, before buying a second ticket and catching a new train to the south of Cornwall and the picturesque town of Wolf Point. She’d arrived just after ten in the morning and collected the key to the cottage from the neighbors.
She had spent the day walking on the beach praying and thinking, but not really coming to any conclusion. Now she was trying plan B—making dinner. She’d always found cooking therapeutic and soon lost herself in chopping and frying. Once the meal was cooked, she tipped it from the pan onto a plate and took it through to the lounge. From the open curtains, she could see the lighthouse beams sweeping across the bay.
It always amazed her that the lighthouse was twelve miles off the coast, yet its beams travelled so clearly and could be seen from here.
Her mind went back to Adam and being here with him. They’d taken long walks along the beach, eaten chips on the prom, and watched a show on the pier before sitting on the sand as the sun set into the horizon. Immy had been conceived here in this cottage. And life had seemed so perfect.
Headlights shone into the window for a moment before turning off. A car stopped in the lane. Sam got to her feet and pulled the curtains.
Footsteps crunched up the gravel path and the doorbell rang loud and long.
Sam sighed. She longed to ignore it, but whoever it was would have seen her. She headed slowly to the front door and opened it.
Shock flooded her. “What are you doing here?”
****
Adam arrived at Sam’s office just after noon on Monday. He was on a high. The church retreat had been amazing. The teaching had been biblical and uplifting, and the fun had known no limits—as evidenced in the ‘talent show’ on Saturday night. Who would have thought that Pastor Jack could play the spoons so well, or that Pastor Carson had such comic timing?
But the best part for him, had been the renewal and blessing Adam had felt as he recharged his spiritual batteries. To be so totally immersed in prayer and teaching and fellowship with fellow believers was unlike anything he’d come across before. It was like church twenty-four-seven.
He still had no idea how to handle the mess he and Sam were in, or how he was going to face her and tell her what he’d found, or how he was going to be able to shop his wife to the police when he handed over the files. But, he knew that God was in overall control, and that whatever happened, it would ultimately work out for good.
He’d done his part—well almost, just a few loose ends to finish up—and God would see to the rest.
He parked next to Sam’s car. She must have gotten to work incredibly early because the ground under her car was dry, and it had been raining solidly since before dawn.
He signed in at reception and headed up to Sam’s office. Her PA, whose name Adam couldn’t remember, sat at the desk outside. “Hi. Is Ms. Reece free?”
“She isn’t here. She went away for a few days. I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
Surprise filled him. “Oh, does she often leave her car here?”
She shook her head. “She never does. And she always rings in—this time she sent an email.”
“Can I see it?”
The woman baulked. “I don’t think so.”
Adam jerked his head in response. “Then I shall be in her office for a few, checking a couple of things.” He didn’t give the woman a chance to say anything before opening the door.
He stood still, shock running rampant through him. The entire office had been trashed. Papers lay everywhere, the vase of flowers he’d sent her lay on its side, the painting of the waterfall had been slashed, and the photo of Immy on the desk was broken.
He spun around and went back to the door. “Who’s been in here today?”
“No one.”
“There was no one here over the weekend or this morning?”
“Not that I know of. Oh my…” The PA’s voice died behind him.
“I think I should see that email now, don’t you?” He put his briefcase down. “I’m legally her husband as well as a lawyer. If something’s happened to her, which it is beginning to look like, then I need to read it.”
“Sure.” She returned to her desk and brought the email up.
Adam read it and frowned. “That doesn’t sound like her at all—the wording is all wrong. Don’t delete i
t. The police may need to trace it.”
“Do you want me to call them?”
“Yeah.” He had copies of everything, but that was beside the point. Sam was now the prime suspect, her office had been trashed, and she had vanished. “I’ll wait for them in here, but I won’t touch anything. It’s a crime scene now. They’ll want to check for fingerprints and so on.”
Ten minutes after the police arrived, it was apparent that all the files pertaining to Sam’s involvement were no longer there—neither the paper folders nor the files on her computer. Hard copies still existed on the server, he hoped, and he had paper copies locked in his safe at home, plus the copies on the frog keyring USB drive attached to his keys his brother had given him for Christmas.
Once the police had left, Adam sucked in a deep breath. He’d agreed to catalogue all the files as he’d been working on them with her. “Could you make me some tea?”
“Sure.”
He bent to pick up his briefcase and caught sight of something wedged under the desk. “What’s this?” He picked it up.
The PA came over. “She was working on that one on Friday.”
Adam flicked through it. It was covered in pencil notes and sticky-notes and multiple references to CP. “What’s this mean?”
The PA glanced down. “Oh, that’s her short hand for Peter Carter. She was often cryptic in her notes.”
“Is he in today?”
“He’s off sick. He won’t be in all week. Besides, between you and me she can’t stand him. You should speak to Esther Parks—she and Sam are pretty good friends. She works in HR, knows everything about everyone here. Actually, she and Peter dated for a while.”
Adam jerked as if shot. “Can you ask her to come down?”
“Sure. I’ll get you that tea as well.”
Adam waited until she’d left and shut the door. He pulled out his mobile and dialed two numbers in succession. There was no reply from either her landline or her mobile.
Where are you, Sam?
He rang David. “Hi, I need a contact in the fraud department, wondered if you knew anyone.”
“Yeah,” David said. “DI Tom Chandler; works out of the nick here. He’s one of the best. You can get him on extension 251. Or I can transfer you if you want.”
“In a sec, yeah. Umm, I have a friend, who hasn’t been seen since Friday. I probably shouldn’t worry, but…”
David sucked in a deep breath. “But you are. Wait another twenty-four hours then if she hasn’t turned up, give me a call.”
“Who said it was a she?” Adam said. Yes, the local boys knew Sam was missing, but to them she was the prime suspect, who’d probably trashed her own office before leaving the country. Or at least that’s the impression he’d gotten from the two officers that came out.
“I know you. Sam, right?”
Adam sighed. “Yeah, probably worrying over nothing, but there’s other stuff going on. Anyway, if you could transfer me, I’d be grateful.”
“Will do. And call me tomorrow whether she turns up or not.”
“Thanks, David. I will.” Adam waited while David transferred the call.
A clipped voice answered the phone. “DI Chandler.”
“My name is Adam West,” Adam began. “I was wondering if it was possible to hand you some files pertaining to a case I’ve been working on. It started out as a lawsuit for wrongful dismissal, but I’ve uncovered several cases of embezzlement which seem to go up into the high ranks of the company. Sgt. David Painter suggested I call you.”
“Sure. If you’d like to come in…”
“It might be better if you came here. The office in question has been trashed. The local boys have just left, but I’d rather hand what I have directly to you. There are files missing, the hard drive has been wiped. I have backup copies in my possession, but…” He sucked in a deep breath, wondering if he should add that the CEO of the company had also vanished.
“Where are you?”
“Wyatt Finance Inc. It’s on Vauxhall Drive opposite the train station. I’m in Sam Reece’s office. I’ll tell reception to expect you and send you right up. Just don’t let on you’re a cop. There’s something else going on here, but I’ll explain when you arrive.”
“I know the building. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t move anything more than you need to.”
Adam ended the call and immediately hit the intercom. “I’m expecting an associate to come over. A Mr. Tom Chandler. Can you ask reception to send him straight up when he arrives, please?”
Next he rang Sam’s father. “Vincent, its Adam. Is Sam there?”
“No, she isn’t. I haven’t heard from her since Thursday. Why?”
“No reason.”
“You wouldn’t call for no reason. What’s going on?”
Adam drummed his fingers on the desk. “Her office got trashed and no one has seen her since Friday. It’s highly possible she did it in a fit of temper and has gone off somewhere to sulk. But I doubt it. If she calls you, can you let me know?”
“Of course. Do the same if she rings you.”
“I will.”
The door opened. The PA came in with his tea and another woman. “This is Esther Parks from HR.”
Adam smiled. “Sit down, Miss Parks. I was wondering if you could shed some light on something for me.”
“Sure, if I can.” Esther Parks sat and crossed her legs, her short skirt riding up. She smiled at him, making no effort to tug it down.
Adam cleared his throat. “I was checking the employee records against the security clearances and something doesn’t add up.”
“You should ask Sam, she’s the CEO.”
“I would, but she isn’t here today and I need the information. I’m handing the case over to an associate later today.”
“I thought you were handling the case.” Miss Parks frowned, picking at a nail on her right hand.
“I was, but I’m going to be tied up in court for the next week or so. Besides, as I’m Sam’s husband, it’d be less prejudicial if someone else handled it. So if you could help me with this last query, it would be much easier for my replacement.”
Miss Parks nodded slightly, but didn’t look at all happy about the idea.
Adam pointed to a sheet of paper. “These names, Max Holder, Troy Branning and Peter Carter. None of them have the clearance to access the accounts they were in charge of…” He broke off at a knock at the door. “Come in.”
The PA stuck her head around the door. “Mr. Chandler is here.”
“Send him in.” Adam stood.
DI Chandler was taller than he’d imagined, easily over six foot, dark hair, smart suit and tie. He held out a hand. “Tom Chandler.”
Adam shook his hand. “Adam West. This is Esther Parks. She’s explaining the last file to me before I hand the case over to you.”
DI Chandler sat. “Don’t let me interrupt you.”
Adam turned back to Miss Parks. “So, the security clearances?”
“Sam is the only person who could authorize that amount of money to change accounts. The way it works is the accountant in charge of various accounts does the banking and transfers, but Sam has to sign off on them herself.”
“What if she isn’t here? Surely that would just hold things up?” Personally that didn’t sound right, even to him. It was no way to run a banking system. “Who’s the VP? Can’t he cosign off on things?”
“Not always, but in any case, we don’t have a VP.”
DI Chandler straightened in his chair. “You don’t?”
Adam frowned. “So whose signature is this?”
“That’s Peter. He uses his full surname when he signs things—it’s double barreled. Sam didn’t want a VP. It’s almost as if she either didn’t trust anyone or didn’t want anyone to know what she was doing. Peter is acting VP. He was in line for the CEO job until Sam got it.”
“So what’s his full name then?” Adam asked, his pen hovering over the paper.
�
��Carter-Higgins.”
“I see.”
“He was so mad when Sam got the job instead of him. Swore he’d make her pay, but he didn’t, because she made him acting VP and promised she’d do right by him. Of course, she didn’t have any intentions of doing so. Because if she did she’d have done it by now.”
“Did he say how he was going to get even?” DI Chandler asked.
She shook her head. “No. I need to go, sorry, I have another meeting.”
“Thanks for your help.” Adam stood as she left, then sat down again. “Just make sure you’re available if we need to ask you anything else.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
Adam waited until she’d shut the door behind him, then leaned back in the chair and looked at the police officer. “Like I said, the whole thing is a mess and a lot more complicated than I initially thought.”
DI Chandler looked at him. “I think you should start from the beginning.”
****
Sam struggled to open her eyes. She was hot and kicked off the covers. She groaned and rolled onto her side. Pink wallpaper assailed her. She blinked hard and rolled onto her back again. Oh, that’s right, she was staying at her aunt’s.
“Hey, sleepy head.” Lips kissed her forehead, working down her face to her jawline.
She turned away before he could reach her lips. “Peter, don’t.”
“How are you feeling now?”
“Not great.” She tried to think. She remembered cooking dinner and then someone was at the door. Peter… He must have followed her here or found her aunt’s address from somewhere.
“Keep still.” His hand was cool on her forehead. “You’re burning up. Let me give you something to help.”
“No, I…” She tried to get up. Her aunt’s address was on the card file on her desk. He could have gotten it from there. But she didn’t remember saying she was going to her aunt’s.
