by Anna James
Opening another Internet browser, Rachel typed “Hope Foundation” and waited for Google to list the results.
According to the charity’s website, the Hope Foundation was founded eight years ago by philanthropist David Anderson Phillips. The foundation provided assistance to local homeless shelters, food banks and relief efforts.
David Anderson Phillips, she didn’t recognize the name. Who are you?
Another search revealed the man to be the epitome of a true humanitarian, that’s who. In addition to his own charity, which he’d formed in his later years, the multimillionaire had donated most of the funding required to purchase and convert properties in various parts of the city into shelters for the homeless and battered women. He supported these facilities by supplying money to buy food, clothing, and daycare for the women’s shelters.
He married later in life, lost his wife during the birth of their only child and never remarried. He died of a heart attack at the age of seventy-five, six years ago, minutes before he was to give the bride away on her wedding day.
Rachel scrolled down to read the rest of the article. “Oh dear lord.” She grinned. “Gotcha!”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Mom… Mom, wake up.”
Rachel shot from the chair and almost toppled it over. She dragged in a deep breath and tried to focus.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Why were you sleeping in a chair in front of your computer?” Emma asked.
Rachel rubbed the palms of her hands over her face. “I must have dozed off.” She’d worked through the night trying to follow the money trail from RS Holdings to the Hope Foundation, once she’d found the connection. The trouble was the money only flowed one way: from Ryan to the charity. She didn’t know where the cash deposits went from there. If only she had access to the charity’s financial records. She’d bet her life they’d show the funds had been shifted to an offshore account.
“Mom?”
Rachel blinked. “Yes, Emma.”
“Grandma and Grandpa’s flight doesn’t leave until noon. Can I call them and see if we can have breakfast? They’re staying here in the hotel.”
Rachel frowned. “I told you—”
“They didn’t already ask me. I wanted to check with you and make sure it’s okay before I call them.”
Rachel nodded. “Where are they off to this time?”
“They’re going back to the Bahamas to see their friends again and leaving from there on another cruise.”
Rachel snapped to attention. “The Bahamas?” They’d been there twice this year already, several times last year and the year before and it was one of only a few countries that still allowed anonymous banking. Ryan’s offshore account must be located there. Why didn’t I put it together before?
During her investigation, she hadn’t found any evidence Frank or Connie had been involved in Ryan’s illegal activities. All the felonious action had occurred within the RS Holdings umbrella of accounts. The only association she could make was the conversation Emma overheard, but even if they hadn’t helped Ryan, she suspected they were still guilty of spending illicit funds. Maybe if they had breakfast together, she could feel them out. “All right. Give them a call and ask if we can meet them downstairs in an hour.”
Rachel turned off the blow drier and walked into the living area of the hotel suite. The banging on the door made her hurry. What have you forgotten now, Emma? As she hurried the banging intensified. “I’m coming,” she called in a muted voice, not wanting to disturb the other hotel patrons. A quick glance through the peephole had her gasping. Ethan. With jerky movements she removed the safety chain, disengaged the dead bolt and cracked open the door. “What are you doing here?”
He held a gift wrapped package in his hand. “I have a birthday present for Emma. I’d like to give it to her. Can I come in, please?”
Rachel opened the door wide, and he strode inside. “Of course, but Emma isn’t here.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Where is she?”
“With Connie and Frank, they’re having breakfast.”
“Why aren’t you with them?”
Rachel flinched. She’d been upset when they’d made it clear she wasn’t welcome to join them and only agreed to let Emma stay after they’d promised to bring her back within the hour and to stay in the hotel. Neither Frank nor Connie would harm Emma. They were too self-absorbed to trouble themselves, besides, they had no idea anyone knew what they’d been up to with their trips abroad.
Ethan grimaced. “Let me guess. You weren’t invited.”
She shook her head. “They wanted to spend a little more time alone with her.”
His lips compressed into a thin, tight line. “How long are you going to put up with this, Rachel?”
She crossed her arms over her breasts and threw him a defiant glare. “They’re the only part of her father Emma has left. What am I supposed to do? She wanted to have breakfast with them. It was her idea. I can’t take them away from her.”
Ethan sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“Forget it.” She extended her hand toward him intending on taking the package. “I’ll make sure Emma gets your gift. Thank you for—”
Ethan’s body tensed, and he jerked the package away from her. “So it's come to this, has it? I can’t even give my goddaughter a birthday present in person?”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “I told you she isn’t here.”
“Damn it! I want to see her. She means the world to me. I—”
Rachel held up her hand. The action had Ethan stopping in midsentence. “Do you really think I’d stop you from spending time with Emma? She loves you as much as you love her. I would never hurt her by preventing you from seeing each other. If you want to give her your present in person, you can stop by later tonight or tomorrow morning before we go to the parade. You can even come with us to the parade if you want to.”
He stared at her, his eyes assessing. “And you don’t have a problem with me tagging along?”
“It’s what Emma wants.”
“So you’ll put up with me because Emma wants it? Like you put up with Connie and Frank? No, thank you.” He slammed the package down on the table.
“Ethan, I—”
“I can’t do this anymore.” He gestured with his hand. First at her and then back at himself. “I’ll call Emma later and set up a time when I can take her out alone, assuming you’ll still allow me to take her out to celebrate her birthday.”
Rachel went numb. Why he still had the power to hurt her, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known how he felt. The incident with Sandra, in his office, had made his feelings clear. Why did she continue to torture herself by holding out hope this was all a misunderstanding?
Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away. No way would she let him see her cry. “Sure.”
There was only one thing left to do. She needed to tell him about Ryan. He deserved to know the truth, regardless of how things stood between them. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
A sense of déjà vu washed over her. Hadn’t her conversation started exactly the same way three years ago when she’d told Ethan about Sandra’s affair? He’d made horrible accusations about her motives last time, and she didn’t expect his reaction to be any better today. Clearing her throat she added, “Hayden was right about Ryan. He was involved in some shady business at Montgomery International, but the defaulted loans scheme was only the tip of the iceberg. His actions included laundering money through various accounts at your bank.” She walked to the desk, grabbed the ream of paper she’d printed in the business center earlier and handed it to him. “It’s all right here in black and white. At least what I could trace from Ryan’s personal files.”
Ethan stared at her, a stunned expression on his face.
“There’s one more thing.” She grabbed a separate stack of paper and handed it to him. “I believe Sandra was i
nvolved.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ethan gaped at the sheets of paper strewn over the top of his desk in his home office, stunned Ryan had managed to clean millions of dollars through the RS Holdings accounts. How had the bank’s money laundering task force missed this?
He called Curtis at the bank to have him see if the accounts were still active. At least Quinten Chamberlin hadn’t fired Curtis, and Jean-Claude still remained in Paris. For now. Ethan had no doubt both men would meet the same fate as him. Quinten had wasted no time kicking Ethan’s butt out the door.
The call went to voice mail. He left a brief message, then checked his watch. Ten o’clock. Four p.m. in Paris with the time difference. Scrolling through his contacts, he selected Jean-Claude. The call connected and Jean-Claude answered on the third ring.
“Ethan, what can I do for you?”
“I need a favor.”
“Of course. What is it?”
“I need you to check on some accounts for me and tell me if they’re still active.”
“Okay, what are the numbers?”
Ethan rattled off the list of accounts and waited while Jean-Claude searched.
“How’s Hayden?” Jean-Claude asked. “I heard he collapsed at the shareholders meeting.”
“Better. His chest pain resulted from angina, not another heart attack.”
“Glad to hear it.” A few minutes later, Jean-Claude added, “I’ve checked all eight accounts, and they’re all still active. The transactions have been irregular, but there have been plenty over the last few years.”
Still active? Ryan must have had a partner, otherwise how would the transactions have continued after his death, but who? Sandra? Rachel had believed she was involved, but other than the voluminous contributions made to the Hope Foundation, he couldn’t find any connection.
Ethan knew Sandra had been married, however briefly, to multimillionaire Grant Reynolds. He hadn’t known she was David Anderson Phillips’ daughter; his only child and should-be heir to his vast fortune. Phillips left none of his wealth to Sandra, yet he’d entrusted his beloved charity to her. Why? Ethan shook his head. None of it made any sense.
Why had Sandra kept her identity a secret, and what else didn’t he know about her?
“What’s going on, Ethan?”
He cleared his throat. “I received information this morning detailing a variety of what I suspect are money laundering transactions. The accounts I had you check are the ones in question.” He hadn’t seen any reference to the Montgomery account in Rachel’s name. How did it fit in with what he’d learned? Or, did it?
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be. I’ve been trying to contact Curtis, but he hasn’t called me back yet.” His phone signaled an incoming call. A quick glance at the screen indicated Curtis waited on the other line. “It’s him now. I’ve got to take this. Thank you, Jean-Claude. I appreciate your help. Curtis,” he greeted after connecting the call.
“What’s going on, Ethan? Your message indicated it’s urgent.”
“It is. I have some information you need to see. Can we meet at the coffee shop around the corner from the bank in,” he glanced at his watch, “thirty minutes?”
“I’ll be there. Can you give me a hint as to what this is about?”
“I’d rather show you.”
“Okay. See you at the coffee shop in a half hour.”
The call ended, and Ethan put the phone back in its holder. Ryan’s accomplice was in for the shock of his—or her—life.
Ethan arrived at the coffee shop and found Curtis waiting for him at a table in the back. He ordered a coffee at the counter and then joined him.
“What’s this about?” Curtis asked when Ethan had taken the seat opposite him.
Ethan pulled out a manila file folder and slid it across the table to Curtis. “We’ve got a problem at the bank, and I’m hoping you can help me with it.”
“A problem?”
Ethan nodded and tapped a hand on the folder. “It’s all in here.”
Curtis opened the file and started to read. Over the next twenty minutes, Ethan watched the various emotions flicker across Curtis’s face. Shock, skepticism, and resignation as he had to accept the reality of the situation. Finally, he closed the file and peered up at Ethan.
“Money laundering. I can’t believe it. I don’t know how the task force missed this.”
He didn’t know how either, but the whys and hows didn’t matter. “At this point we need to stop any future activity. I’d like you to set up a trace on the RS Holding accounts mentioned.” Ethan opened the file, extracted a page and handed it to Curtis, then returned the folder to his briefcase. “This is a list of the accounts named. You should also inform the members of the task force and instruct the tellers to notify security immediately if anyone tries to withdraw funds.”
“I’ll set up the traces right away and should have them in place within a half hour. I’ll also inform the others and instruct the tellers as you asked. We’ll know the moment anyone tries to access the accounts.”
“Thank you, Curtis.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ethan stood, gathered his things and then strode out the door.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“It’s about time, young lady,” Rachel removed the security chain and opened the hotel room door. “You’re almost thirty minutes la—” Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. She shoved at the door with all her might and closed it.
“Tut, tut, tut. Is this any way to greet a visitor?”
Rachel sucked in a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “What do you want?”
“I want answers. Now, if you want to see Emma alive again, you’ll open this door, let me in, and do as you’re told.”
Her body shook. “You—you have Emma?” Dear lord, please don’t let it be true.
Sandra let out a malicious, tinkling, laugh. “I do, and if you don’t want anything to happen to her, you’ll do what I say.”
Rachel wrapped her arms around her body in an effort to stop the shaking. No. Sandra couldn’t have Emma. Emma was downstairs in the restaurant with her grandparents. “I want proof you have her.”
“I figured as much.”
Sandra reached into her pocket and pulled out a cell phone, touched the screen a few times, then turned the device and held it up to the peep hole in the door for Rachel to view. An image of Emma, dressed in the same clothes she’d donned this morning filled the screen. She gasped. “Please—please don’t hurt her.”
Sandra sneered. “What happens to Emma next is up to you. If you cooperate with me, no harm will come to her. If you don’t…” She shrugged her shoulders. “You know what will happen.”
Rachel opened the door, and Sandra sashayed in.
“Where’s your computer?”
Rachel lifted her fingers to massage her throbbing temples. “My computer?” Why would Sandra want her computer?
Sandra didn’t respond. Instead, her eyes darted around the room and stopped when they landed on the laptop. “Ah ha.” She strode to the desk, picked up the computer and smashed it.
Rachel rushed toward her. “What are you doing?”
Debris skittered across the floor. Sandra grimaced. “Destroying the last of the evidence.”
How did Sandra know about the files on her computer? Had Ethan told her? He was the only one who knew what she’d found. Did he know Sandra kidnapped Emma and had threatened to hurt her if Rachel didn’t cooperate? How could he put Emma in danger?
“I should have done the job myself the first time.”
“First time?”
“Yes, those idiots I hired to go through your house during Ryan’s funeral.”
“You broke into my house? Why?”
Sandra grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across the room. “I needed to get rid of the evidence. Obviously, those fools missed something.”
Rachel thought back to the most recent break-in and the information she’d
found going through Ryan’s things. “Did your goons break-in a few weeks ago too?”
Sandra swore. “It was dumb luck the Board of Directors hired you as the forensic accountant to investigate the dispute. I needed to see if you’d uncovered anything during your review of the bank’s records.”
“My investigation dealt with the shareholders not—”
“Don’t be stupid. I don’t like stupid people. I couldn’t take the chance.” She dug her nails into Rachel’s skin, then shoved her against the wall.
Rachel cried out. Blood trickled down her arm.
“You deserve much worse,” Sandra scoffed.
“Why?”
“Why?” Sandra shrieked, her eyes flashing. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since the day we met.” She held up her pointer finger. “One, you told Ethan about my affair. With Ryan.” She smirked. “Ethan broke off our engagement and ruined my plans.”
“Plans for what?”
Sandra scowled. “My plans to marry Ethan and obtain a position on the Board of Directors at Montgomery.”
Holy cow. As a member of the Board, Sandra would hold significant power. She could nominate and elect Montgomery’s CEO, President and Vice President and other board officers. In essence, she’d be in control. A good place to be if you were involved in illegal activities.
“Then, you spent my money.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t spend any cash belonging to you.”
Sandra continued as if Rachel hadn’t spoken. “Imagine my surprise when I learned a few months ago Ryan had stashed a good chunk of my money in an account at Montgomery in your name.”
Sandra confirmed what Rachel suspected all along. Ryan had opened the account, but Sandra hadn’t known he’d done it, and she’d said her money. Did Ryan steal from Sandra? “I didn’t touch the money in the Montgomery account. I didn’t even know it existed until Ethan told me about it at the end of the summer.” How had Sandra learned of the account in the first place? Not from Ethan. He seemed to be as much in the dark as her. Who else knew about the account and had access?
