by Alice Ward
“Why would you investigate your own client?” he pressed. “And what do you mean Rachel was your client until this morning?”
“Like I said, I had a hunch and followed it,” she explained with a shrug. “If I may point out, it’s starting to look like I was right. And it’s a conflict of interest for me to represent Rachel now that she’s a suspect in a crime against you. Legally, I can be your attorney or hers, but not both. And for personal reasons, I will not be representing her.”
Asher swallowed and stared back at Kennedy, his face defiant. “I know Rachel can be difficult. But you’re wrong about her, Kennedy. She and I are as close as you and Lauren. In some ways, we’re closer. So when I say she isn’t capable of doing this to me, I expect you to listen. Now, I will acknowledge that things look bad. I will even concede that it’s in everyone’s best interests for the police to be involved. But when we find Rachel and prove that your little theories are wrong, I expect you to do whatever it takes to help her. If you’ll agree to that, I will keep you on as my attorney.”
“That’s more than fair,” she agreed. “And for what it’s worth, I really do hope I’m wrong. But Asher, I have proof that you don’t know Rachel as well as you think. Her family—”
“Her family abandoned her,” Asher interrupted. “They threw her out like garbage and I won’t hear a word in their defense.”
We have to find a way to make him listen to reason. He’s going to let our whole world fall apart because he refuses to see the truth.
If Kennedy was as frustrated as I was, she hid it well. She reached across the cabin and took Asher gently by the hand.
“Okay, okay,” she agreed, her voice low and soothing. “I know this is a lot to take in. I’ll give you some time to absorb everything. Once we land in California and get an update on the investigation, we’ll readdress this. And if I’m wrong and Rachel really is innocent, I’ll do my best to get her out of whatever kind of trouble she’s in.”
“That’s all I ask,” Asher replied, his jaw firm. Then he surprised me. He folded his hands over his chest, leaned back in the leather chair, and closed his eyes for the first time in sixteen hours.
***
An hour after we touched down in San Francisco, Kennedy, Asher, and I were gathered around a conference table with the EnvisionTech board of directors. As CEO and majority shareholder, all final decisions fell to Asher. But the other board members had been alerted to the theft and it fell to him to set their minds at ease.
“We’ve already alerted Northwest Mutual about this situation,” he assured them again. “Our insurance will more than cover our losses, if the money isn’t recovered. Detective Austin and his team are doing everything in their power to resolve this as quickly as possible. I am aware that the circumstances don’t look favorable, but I give you all my word that this was not an inside job. Those of you who’ve worked with Rachel can attest to her character. I know that, like me, you will give her the benefit of the doubt. You will all be contacted by the police throughout the course of the investigation. I only ask that you speak honestly about what you know. And if anyone has any ideas as to who could be behind this, please speak with me directly. Someone’s trying to destroy our company. They’re framing Rachel and trying to set us against each other. But if we work together, I know that we can get to the bottom of this and come out stronger on the other end. I’m sure you all have questions and concerns. Detective Austin and I are happy to address them now.”
Asher tossed a glance at Detective Austin, who sat to his left; Kennedy and I were on his right, with the rest of the board members scattered around the table. Brian, the CFO, was the only face I recognized.
A small, bald man with a pinched nose and bushy grey eyebrows leaned forward and cleared his throat.
“Yes, Harold?” Asher asked.
“I don’t mean any disrespect, Asher. But it’s no secret that some of us have had concerns about Rachel in the past.”
Asher held up a hand, silencing Harold immediately. “We aren’t here to rehash your old grudges, Harold. I’m sorry your daughter-in-law found Rachel difficult to work with. And we all know you felt Melissa was better suited for Rachel’s job. But this isn’t the time or place to discuss that.”
One of the two female board members leaned forward to play devil’s advocate.
“Harold has a point,” she agreed. “I like Rachel as much as anyone. But through the years, there have been things about her that don’t quite add up. Now Brian tells us that twenty million dollars was moved using her passcode and computer. If our security is as tight as it’s supposed to be, how did that happen?”
The rest of the group looked to Brian, who swallowed nervously and turned to Asher.
“No one wants this to be true, Asher. But I’ve reviewed all of the security footage myself. Rachel was alone in her office all day yesterday. Her computer wasn’t hacked. She’s the only one who could have accessed the money. You say someone is framing her or forcing her to do this. But you haven’t explained why you think that. What do you know that we don’t, Asher?”
I gripped the arm of my chair, bracing myself for the worst. I expected Asher’s voice to waver, for him to admit his past when confronted with a direct question. But he remained calm and in control.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, Brian, but I don’t have any answers for you. I have no idea what Rachel’s going through right now, or who’s threatening her with what. If I did, I’d be on her tail right now instead of sitting here with you. I’m simply trying to make it known that I will side with my employees until I’m given a solid reason not to do so. Rachel is one of us until I see evidence to the contrary and I expect her to be treated as such. If any one of you were in her position, I’d do the same,” Asher insisted. His tone made it clear that the subject was closed and no one dared to press the issue further. Detective Austin cleared his throat and turned to the group.
“As Mr. Reynolds has explained, my team is working around the clock to find Rachel. We’ve also alerted everyone from NSA to Interpol with regards to the payroll theft. We’re doing our best to keep this quiet, but you can expect the story to break sooner rather than later.”
“When that happens, I will issue a public statement,” Asher interrupted. “From there, the PR department will take over. If any of you are contacted by reporters, you’re to say you’re optimistic but have no further comment.”
“We can’t just ignore the questions,” Harold argued. “If the shareholders get spooked, our value will plummet overnight.”
“We’ll recover,” Asher insisted.
Detective Austin nodded. “Mr. Reynolds is right. There are too many of you. If you all start giving your opinions, it will just create added confusion and draw more attention to the situation. And right now, public attention isn’t what we need. What would be useful is any leads you may have in regards to people who’d like to take the company down. We’re investigating some of the company’s professional rivals, as well as any and all personal connections of Rachel’s.”
“Detective Austin will be scheduling individual interviews with each of you,” Asher added. “Mrs. Montgomery and her associate, Mrs. Parish, may also have questions. I expect you all to cooperate and promise that you will be kept in the loop as the case progresses. With any luck, we’ll get to the bottom of this quickly and everything will be back to normal by the end of the week. Now, if you all will excuse me, I’d like to have a look at Rachel’s condo myself.”
Asher pushed his chair away from the table; I paused for a moment before following suit. Harold’s eyes darted from Kennedy to Asher and he narrowed his brow again.
“Asher, it goes without saying that we all hope this is cleared up sooner rather than later. But I think we’d all feel better if we had your assurance that Rachel won’t receive any special treatment, should the accusations against her prove true.”
Asher sighed and glared back at the stockholder.
“Harold i
f Rachel is honestly behind this, I’ll be the last person trying to protect her.”
***
We arrived at Rachel’s condo to find yellow crime scene tape barricading the door. Detective Austin carefully removed it and ushered us into the entryway.
“We gave the place a cursory glance and then locked it up,” he explained. “You’ll have a better idea if anything is missing. The closets seem pretty empty and we didn’t find any luggage. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“No, it does,” Asher insisted, pushing a hand through his hair. “Rachel loves clothes and has a full set of Louis Vuitton luggage. If it’s all missing, she hauled quite a bit of stuff out of here… or someone did.”
Asher stepped lightly across the tile floor while Kennedy and I remained by the door. I felt uncomfortable in Rachel’s abandoned home and my nerves danced with questions. Where was she? What had happened to push her to the point of draining the payroll account and taking off? And why in the world couldn’t Asher see the truth that was so clear to the rest of us?
Kennedy leaned against the wall and gave my hand a light squeeze.
“He’ll get there,” she whispered. “I know this is hard for you. But it’s harder for him. He won’t see the truth until he has no other choice.”
Asher stormed out of the master bedroom, his face white with worry. His hands shook and small beads of sweat dotted his brow. He met my eyes with desperation and fear.
“What is it?” I asked, my heart racing.
He reached for me and I gave him my hand. He led me into the bedroom with Kennedy and Detective Austin at our heels. Asher pointed at a tall chest of drawers; a single red sock had been laid across the top of it.
“That was one of our signals,” he explained, his voice weak. “When Rachel and I left California, we came up with a series of codes. A white sock meant we were taking some space, but everything was fine. A black sock meant we had a date and wouldn’t be home. A tie on the dresser meant we had a date and needed the other one to disappear. And a red sock… it meant shit had hit the fan and we had to run. Rachel left this as a message to me. She’s in danger.”
Or she knows how to make you think she is.
Detective Austin pulled a camera from his pocket and took a picture of the single, discarded sock. Kennedy called one of her contacts at the LAPD and asked for updates on the whereabouts of the Chavez family, while Asher fled to the kitchen to privately pace the floors. It broke my heart to see him so upset and I felt helpless to comfort him.
“Asher, I’m so sorry. We’ll find her,” I promised.
“Be honest, Lauren,” he snapped. “You’re just like everyone else. You don’t believe Rachel’s in any danger. You think she took my money and skipped town.”
I sighed, trying to find a balance between being honest and being supportive.
“I think this looks bad,” I agreed. “I think Rachel isn’t quite as stable as you give her credit for and I think she’s had some trouble accepting our relationship. I know she wasn’t quite the victim of her family the way she’s made herself out to be. But—”
“I knew it,” Asher snarled. “You knew Kennedy was looking into Rachel’s past. After everything I trusted you with, everything Rachel told you, you went behind our backs. Did you ask Kennedy to investigate me too?”
“Asher, it wasn’t like that,” I insisted. My face flushed hot and I struggled to find the right words to defend myself.
“You know Rachel has a problem with me. She’s territorial about you and she hates that we’re together. She’d push me out of your life completely if she had the chance. So yes, I asked Kennedy to look into her story. I was just trying to protect us, Asher. I’m not going to apologize for that. You’re going to listen to what Kennedy found. You have to. And if you still believe Rachel is innocent, I’ll support that. I’ll do whatever I can to help you find her.”
“I don’t need your help with the case,” he snapped, his voice clipped and harsh. “I don’t need anyone’s help. Rachel and I have saved each other before and we’ll do it again. If you want to be useful, go back to the office. Merritt’s overwhelmed in the art department and the games won’t design themselves.”
Asher’s rejection stung, but my pride refused to let it show. I held my head high and moved my hands to my hips.
“If that’s what you want, consider it done. I’ll have Kennedy drop me back at work on her way to the hotel. Do I have your permission to act as head of the department?”
Asher nodded, his jaw still clenched.
“Fine.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I’ll hold things down at the office. If and when you remember that I’m on your side and regain the ability to talk to me like a human being, you know how to find me. Until then, tell Kennedy I’ll be waiting in her rental.”
With that, I turned on my heels and stomped defiantly out of the condo.
***
I turned my key in the lock and pushed open the front door of Deacon’s townhouse. The sweet aromas of cinnamon, sugar, and rising bread flooded my senses and immediately put me at ease.
“Claire?” I called out, stepping into the hallway.
In a world of increasingly open floorplans, Deacon and Gale had chosen to keep the original layout of their townhouse. The front door opened into a formal entryway. A staircase took up the right wall while a hallway led to the ground floor rooms. I passed the empty living area and guestroom and wandered into the kitchen. The backdoor was open and I found Claire barefoot in the garden.
“Hey,” I called out to her. “Smells like I picked a good time to drop by.”
“Hey, Lauren,” she beamed back at me. “I must have stepped out as you were stepping in. I have the day off, so I’m experimenting with a few new recipes. How does a mint chocolate croissant sound to you?” she asked, holding up a fresh sprig of peppermint.
“With the week I’m having, I’ll take a dozen,” I replied, my voice grave. Claire frowned and I immediately felt guilty. My friend was doing so well after her breakup and I hated to be the reason her smile disappeared.
“What’s going on?” she asked, making her way toward me. We stepped back into the kitchen and I settled in on a barstool. Claire tossed the mint into a battered copper colander and ran it under the kitchen faucet.
“I take it there’s some trouble in paradise?” she pressed.
“Yeah.” I dropped my face in my hands and rubbed my eyes. “You could put it that way. You could also say that paradise was never more than an illusion.”
Claire turned off the water and sighed. “Uh oh. This sounds like the kind of talk that requires wine. Do you want red or white?”
“Surprise me.”
Claire pulled two mismatched wine glasses from the cabinet and filled them with rose from a box in the fridge. I drank my first glass with one swallow and refilled it myself.
Rachel and the money had been missing for three days. Kennedy was only able to spend one night in California before returning to Boston. I’d been working around the clock to cover my job and Rachel’s while Asher continued to give me the silent treatment. Without a word, he’d moved into the guestroom and set up a command center for his efforts to find Rachel and clear her name. He didn’t try to speak to me and I returned the favor. Neither of us was willing to break first and the standoff was getting to be too much to bare.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you, Claire,” I warned.
She nodded. “I know there are things about Asher’s past that you’ve kept to yourself,” she reminded me.
“I know, and I feel terrible talking about it now. But I feel like I’m going crazy, Claire. Everything is wrong and I don’t know how to fix any of it. I hate bothering you with my problems. You’ve had more than your fair share of heartache lately. And now that you’re feeling better—”
“Lauren, you’re rambling,” Claire interrupted me. She sat down on the stool across from me, giving me her full attention.
/> “We’ve been best friends since we were eight. If you need to talk, I’m here to listen. That’s how this works, remember?” she said softly. “Just tell me what’s going on. Nothing you say will leave this room.”
I finished my second glass of wine, took a deep breath, and spilled every secret I’d been keeping. She listened patiently and didn’t speak until I was finished.
“I’m so glad you’ve been able to talk to Kennedy,” she said when I finally moved for more wine.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” I replied, suddenly aware that she could be hurt I’d confided in someone else.
Claire immediately waved off my apology. “Don’t be silly. I completely understand. This is some serious shit, Lauren. This is the type of story you see on TV, not the type you’re supposed to live out. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you told me. And I’m happy you know you can trust me this much. But I get that you probably shouldn’t have told me.”
“Well now that I have, do you have any advice?” I asked.
“Let me think about it,” she replied, scooting off her stool. The oven timer echoed through the kitchen and Claire pulled on mitts, retrieving a pan of cinnamon rolls from the oven.
“Those smell heavenly,” I observed, my mouth suddenly wet.
“I played with the spice blend a little,” she explained. “Give them a few minutes to cool and then you can be the first to try one.”
Claire returned to her stool and studied me for a moment.
“I have a few questions. But if you can’t answer, I’ll understand.”
“Ask away,” I insisted.
Claire took a deep breath and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Kennedy found proof that Rachel lied to Asher. But Asher refuses to entertain any mention of it. Do you think it’s really because he trusts her so much? Or do you think there’s a chance that he already knows the truth, he just doesn’t want you to know he knows?”
Damn it. I hadn’t even thought of that. I’ve given Asher the same level of blind trust he’s giving Rachel. I know she doesn’t deserve it. Does he?
