by Lisa Harris
“So he came in and cashed the check on Wednesday?” Lindsey continued her questions.
Mr. Watson nodded. “Originally that was his plan, I believe.”
“Originally?” Lindsey shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“As a longtime friend, I felt obligated to advise your father on the risks of carrying around such a large amount of cash. I suggested we transfer the money into his account instead of letting him leave the building with a briefcase full of cash.”
“But he didn’t go for that?”
“No. And something else bothered me as well. It might be nothing, but there was a man loitering in the lobby that morning. I eventually had one of our security guards ask him to leave when it became clear he wasn’t here on bank business.”
“He was following Mr. Taylor?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t know for certain. But I decided to tell your father that the bank needed forty-eight hours to put the papers into order for such a large cash transaction. He wasn’t happy, but he agreed to come back when the money was ready. I had hoped that this would give him time to reconsider, but two days later, he walked out of the building with the money.”
Sixty-five thousand dollars in cash.
But where was the money now?
“The man you noticed the first time my father came in—did he return the second time?” Lindsey asked.
“I never saw him again.”
Kyle leaned forward. “Have you got surveillance tapes? There’s always the chance that Lindsey might recognize the man.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose. This whole thing was crazy. She was contemplating going through the bank’s surveillance tapes in hopes of tracking down a criminal? She was a caseworker at an adoption agency, not a detective.
Mr. Watson tapped his glasses against the desk. “Our tech man is out today, but I could arrange for you to see the tape tomorrow, if you like. Anytime after, say, eleven o’clock.”
“Lindsey?”
She nodded at Kyle. Wishing she could make it all go away wouldn’t change anything. “That’ll be fine. Thank you for your time, Mr. Watson.”
“I wish there was more I could do.” He stood to shake their hands. “I always liked your father and hated to think that someone might be taking advantage of him.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Watson, that’s exactly what has happened, so I appreciate your help.” Lindsey slung her purse over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry to hear that. If there is anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Kyle stood in front of his sister’s house, wishing he were coming to pick up Lindsey for a date. At least he’d managed to scrounge up a bit of good news for her along with a bag of tacos for dinner. In the space of the few hours that had passed since their meeting with Mr. Watson, he’d managed to have a meeting with clients, ensure everything was going smoothly on the first official day at the Dallas office and run those license-plate numbers. They still had a long way to go, but it was a step in the right direction.
“Hey.” She stood in the doorway, smiling at him and making him wish he were spending his time getting to know exactly what he’d missed over the last thirteen years or so.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Something smells wonderful.” She looked rested and almost relaxed. Apparently she’d taken his advice and slept for a bit after spending the afternoon cleaning up her father’s house with friends from church.
He held up the bag and waved it in front of her. “Mexican.”
“How’d you know that’s my very favorite?”
“I seem to remember a girl who could never turn down a trip to the local Tex-Mex diner.”
“You’re good if you can remember that.” She laughed as he followed her into the house.
It was quiet, a rare occurrence at his sister’s home.
“Where is everybody?”
“Kerrie took the twins to the mall for new shoes and pizza, since you said you were bringing me dinner. They’ll be back in a little while.”
He set the food on the kitchen table then grabbed a couple plates, smiling at his sister’s obvious attempt to make this somewhat of a date. Lindsey pulled out two cans of soda from the fridge and handed him one.
“I ran the plates on the blue van and came up with a name.”
Her eyes widened. “What’s the name?”
“Do you know a Jamie McDonald?”
She popped open the can and shook her head. “Doesn’t sound familiar at all. Does he have a record?”
“Nothing more than a few misdemeanors and speeding tickets.”
“Can we find him?”
He took a swig of his soda. “I’ll see if I can figure out who he works for and what he does. Maybe we can connect him to your father.”
He’d wanted to have more for her. But any lead they came up with was a victory.
Her cell phone rang, and she flipped it open to take the call. Kyle watched as her brow furrowed. After a brief conversation, she hung up the phone and grabbed her purse.
“What’s wrong, Lindsey?”
“That was the hospital. Someone phoned my father, and now they can’t calm him down.”
Kyle felt the knot in his stomach tighten. “Omah?”
“They don’t know. All he will tell them is that it’s an emergency.” She wrapped her fingers around the strap of her purse and caught Kyle’s gaze. “If he doesn’t calm down the doctor’s afraid he’s going to have another stroke.”
TWELVE
The emergency, as her father had emphatically declared the night before, had to do with an impounded car. The black, two-door Mustang her father had been driving since the late 1980s. Her father had refused to say anything regarding the incident, other than to make her promise that she’d pick up the car and park it in his garage.
“I don’t understand him at all.” Lindsey stood beside the car in the impound lot and shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why didn’t he tell me this before? He was out when he collapsed, and his car was parked on the street. I thought he was home when it happened.”
Kyle folded his arms across his chest. “I suppose your father deserves some leeway considering all that he’s been through the past few days.”
“I agree, but what was he doing the night he called 911?”
Lindsey frowned.
Something must have upset him enough to affect him physically. Had he met with Jamie McDonald? Had Jamie threatened that he had to pay up or else? Had the stress caused him to black out?
The questions were getting old. She wanted answers.
The only positive thing was that the car didn’t look any worse for wear after being impounded and left in a dirty, packed lot for a few days. On the phone, her father had insisted she look it over carefully for any scratches or dents, but in all honesty, she’d rather drive away and leave the car at this dump. How many years had she been begging her father to buy a new model? He just insisted there was nothing wrong with driving the old one.
She handed her driver’s license to the gum-chewing clerk, followed by a check for the pricey amount due, then signed on the dotted line. Her father would have owed her big-time if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t seem to have a dime left to his name. How many more unpaid bills would come her way? She wanted to help him—she’d do anything for him—but she had no intentions of going bankrupt because of Abraham Omah.
“Can you tell me where the vehicle was picked up?” Lindsey took her receipt and slid it into her wallet.
The bored woman flipped slowly through a stack of papers. “Looks like it was brought in from downtown.”
“Thanks.”
Her father lived ten miles away. What business did he have downtown? Her hand grasped the set of extra car keys until they bit into her palm. She’d had enough of her father’s secrecy. She was going back to the hospital and her dad was going to talk, no matter how embarrassed or ashamed he was. There were too
many questions that had to be answered.
Kyle was waiting beside her father’s car. She waved her hand at the offending vehicle. “There she is in all her glory. Her name is Betsy. I learned to drive in that car. I even took road trips to California and went to a few drive-in movies in it.”
“Reminds me of my first car, except it was bright red.” A quirky smile settled on his face as he ran his fingers across the hood. “I can understand your dad’s obsession. If I hadn’t totaled mine when I was eighteen, I’d probably still be driving it.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all. I loved that car.” He leaned against the frame and held out his hand for the keys. “And I’d be more than happy to drive it to your dad’s house for you.”
“Now wait a minute. Don’t go getting all sentimental on me.” She couldn’t help but laugh. What was it with men and their toys? “My father would have a fit if I let you drive Betsy—she’s like his second child. No one is allowed to drive her unless it’s an emergency. I can promise you that the very thought of a stranger towing his car is driving him crazy right now.”
“Please.” The twinkle in his eye brightened. “This is a classic, and one I’m sure I appreciate far more than you.”
“You’re pathetic.” She tossed him the keys.
Kyle caught them midair. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“You’re just lucky I trust you.” She pointed at him. “Not a scratch.”
Lindsey leaned against the driver’s door. “How could my father have forgotten to tell me he’d left his car downtown?”
Kyle’s playful grin faded. “I think his forgetting about the car is in line with everything else he’s been through.”
“Maybe.” She brushed a leaf from the hood. “What if for some reason he simply didn’t want to tell me?”
“More of his I’m-going-to-handle-this-by-myself attitude?”
“Exactly. We’re assuming Dad still had the money Friday. But if he’d gone to meet with Jamie to pay him off, then why is the man following me? And why the breakins? It doesn’t make sense. He obviously didn’t find what he was after. And where is the money now?”
“There are a hundred possibilities.” Kyle leaned against the car next to her. “Maybe Jamie never showed up. Or your father might have left the money somewhere, deciding not to give it to him for whatever reason. There is even the chance that Jamie might be in on all this in an entirely different way. One we don’t even know about yet.”
Lindsey felt as if they were grasping at straws. She felt like bursting into the hospital and screaming at her dad to talk to her. Instead, she stared at a chip in her red fingernail polish. “I keep thinking about your brother, Michael. What made him cut you off when he needed you most? He had to have known how much you loved him.”
“I’ve asked myself that question a million times.” Pain crossed his face. “I’d always thought we were close, and that he knew that I’d be there for him no matter what. Anya changed all that. He never would admit she’d scammed him. It’s the same with your father. We’re looking at a very powerful combination. Pride and a bit of stubbornness.”
“A bit?”
His grin came back. “Okay. A lot. From what I’ve seen, your dad’s stubborn enough to hold on to that naive belief that he can still somehow work this out on his own without affecting you.”
“And get us both killed in the meantime. Sixty-five thousand dollars isn’t pocket change. Someone wants it.”
Kyle wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her against him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I can be just as determined and stubborn as your father, Lindsey.”
She buried her head in his chest. His heart beat steadily against her. Part of her wanted to stop and find out what she felt for this modern knight who’d ridden in on his gallant horse to help her. But for the moment, her father loomed between them. “I’m still scared of what this is doing to him, Kyle. To his future.”
“One day at a time is all you can do for now. We’ll get the answers.”
She looked up at him. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wasn’t going to break down again. “So what’s the next step?”
“We need to find the money.”
She nodded in agreement. “I think it’s time we searched my father’s house—thoroughly.”
Lindsey shoved the shoe box into her father’s closet and sighed. She’d found nothing other than old letters, his collection of Texas Ranger baseball hats and a box of suspenders. The clothes—items he’d bought over two decades ago—hung neatly on the wooden rack, but there was no sign of the money. The only thing their search confirmed was that he never got rid of anything and rarely bought anything new.
“Anything yet?” Kyle poked his head in the doorway of the master bedroom.
She shrugged, holding up a pile of shoehorns. “There’s nothing much here but shoes, suspenders and socks. What about you?”
He shook his head. “Expired coupons, boxes of Reader’s Digest and dozens of plastic grocery bags. But no money.”
She stood to stretch her legs. An hour of searching in all the places the burglar hadn’t touched had turned up nothing. Maybe he had sent the money to Abraham. Just because they didn’t have a receipt through Western Union didn’t mean he hadn’t made the transaction somehow.
She folded her arms across her chest, mentally checking off all the places they’d searched. “We’ve pretty much looked everywhere.”
“It might not be here, Lindsey.”
She picked up a photo of her parents off the lace-covered dresser. Something had died in her father when her mother passed away. The spark of life that used to be in his eye—the love for travel and even Saturday afternoons fishing with his buddies—all seemed to have been buried with her.
His stubbornness, on the other hand, seemed healthier than a wild hydrangea. A visit to the hospital on the way to his house had been as unproductive as usual, though he seemed relieved about his car. But other than that, he continued to insist that he could—and would—handle things on his own and that Abraham Omah was a friend who had never attempted to defraud him. And nothing she could say would change his mind.
Rather than beat her head against the wall, she’d walked out. He had always been stubborn, but this time his obstinacy came with a high price. Kyle’s insistence that her father’s behavior wasn’t uncommon—that her father saw the situation as some fairy tale he was convinced would end happily ever after—did little to appease her.
“Where do you want to look next?” he asked.
Stretching her arms behind her head, she shrugged. She’d gone through the closet twice with no results. All that was left to search was the spare room. After that they’d be back to square one.
She searched the guest-bedroom closet while he searched the antique dresser her mother had bought at an auction. She reached to check the top shelf, and her hand hit something.
“Kyle, look at this.” She lugged a box from the top shelf of the closet and set it on the bed. “This is a brand-new laptop.”
He pulled out the computer, still in its plastic wrapper.
Lindsey plopped down on the blue-and-white comforter. “I can’t imagine my dad buying this for himself. Not when he has a perfectly good computer in the other room.”
“I don’t think he did.” Kyle sat down beside her. “Gifts are common. Computers, gold pens, cell phones. The way the scammers are able to pull their victim along is unbelievable.”
She was tired of the tears that seemed to automatically spring to her eyes. It was like racing down the drop of an unending roller coaster and not being able to catch her breath. “I need a break, Kyle.”
She stomped into the kitchen, fighting the urge to scream. She needed a distraction. Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out a package of ready-to-make chocolate-chip cookies and turned on the oven.
“What are you doing?” Kyle entered the kitchen behind her.
“Bak
ing. Thankfully, my dad has a sweet tooth,” she said, holding up the cookie dough.
“Baking?”
He probably thought she was nuts, heading to the kitchen every time she couldn’t handle something. “I don’t know, Kyle. I think I’m calling it quits. You can go back to your own life and pretend none of this ever happened.”
“You can’t fire me.”
“Oh, yeah? I just did.”
Her head began to pound. She knew she couldn’t just walk away from all of this, but for the moment, refusing to keep up the crazy detective charade felt good. And maybe she’d watched too many police dramas, but she was tired of worrying that someone was about to burst through the back door any second. Or that some guy driving a blue van would do something more than simply follow her. She was no super woman, clearly. She just wanted her life back.
She peeled off the plastic wrapper and laid the dough on a cutting board. “This isn’t worth your time. It’s not worth my time for that matter. My father’s being impossible, the money’s vanished, some crazy man’s stalking me…” She threw up her hands in defeat. “I’m done with all of this.”
He moved in beside her. “Be angry, Lindsey. Scream and kick those cabinets if you have to, but don’t let that anger defeat you. You know you can’t quit now. Your father needs you. Along with every other man and woman who’s been taken in by these guys. Don’t let them win.”
She grabbed a serrated knife from the drawer, wishing he hadn’t begun his valiant monologue. It just seemed like every time she managed to gather her courage, waves of doubts and fears would hit, and then she had to start over again from scratch.
She was sick of going from denial to anger and back. It felt far too much like the grieving process she’d gone through during her mother’s illness and death. She had lost something then. And she’d lost something now, as well. She’d lost the father who used to take her to the park when she was five. Who used to make sure her dates brought her home by curfew. Who taught her how to stand up for herself when Mac Roberts had tried to bully her in school.
She started to slice the cookies. One after the next, in exactly the same size. At the moment, it seemed that slicing cookies equally was about the only thing she could control in her life.
