The line died.
“Calvin?” Raleigh checked the screen. The timer had frozen. He’d hung up on her, and fear slithered through her. She called the number back, but it went straight to voice mail. Her heart rate hiked into dangerous territory as she tried again.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs, and she instantly deleted the record of her former business partner’s call and message. Calvin had been targeted because of her, which meant someone had intel that she’d reached out to him in the first place. “Raleigh? I thought I heard you talking to someone. Everything okay?”
Don’t trust anyone. Especially the feds. Calvin’s warning played over and over in the back of her mind as she faced Beckett. She’d known and worked with Calvin Dailey for years. Not just within the foundation but personally. She had no reason not to trust him. They were still in danger, and if he was sure he was being followed back to wherever he’d been hiding, she had to keep her guard up, too. Because Calvin was right. They didn’t know how far the corruption within the foundation extended, and she wasn’t going to put his life—or his family’s lives—any more at risk than she already had. Her gut clenched. Which meant, as much as she hated the idea, she couldn’t tell the US marshal standing in front of her Calvin was still alive. At least, not until they found whoever was behind the threat to Calvin’s and her lives. She tried to school her expression, the phone still in her hand, but even she could tell her smile was forced. “I’m fine.”
“The grapes scattered across the entire floor say otherwise.” Suspicion played across his expression, and her heart sank toward her stomach. He was one of the best marshals in the state. Reliable, cautious, supportive. The second she committed to keeping him in the dark, she’d destroy any kind of relationship they’d rebuilt, but Calvin’s life had been put in danger because of her. It would be again if she exposed the fact her former business partner was still alive. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to him. Or Beckett.
“Funny story. The baby craves fresh fruit almost constantly, so I came downstairs to get a snack, and I couldn’t find the remote for the TV, so I picked up your phone.” Half-truths were the best kind of lies. More believable. She slid her hand over her stomach for reassurance she was doing the right thing. Instead, a hint of the numbness Beckett had helped dissolve closed in. “Turns out I’m not so great at the words game as I thought. I may have lost my temper and the game to someone named Watson.”
She was taking a shot in the dark. That was the other deputy marshal on his team, wasn’t it?
“I’ve been close to deleting that game a dozen times because of him. I swear the bastard has the entire English dictionary memorized.” A smile pulled the lips she’d been kissing less than a few hours ago thin. He closed the space between them, sliding warm hands down her arms, and relief coursed through her. Beckett took the phone from her hand and set it back on the table before heading toward the fridge. “Come on. I’ll make you a proper snack. Anything you and the baby want.”
She eyed the phone as she followed him into the kitchen. “Sounds perfect.”
Chapter Eleven
There had to be something in the FBI’s reports they could use.
Beckett used the trackpad on Reed’s laptop to scroll through the FBI’s and Portland Police Bureau’s investigation files. Interviews of anyone who had access to the donation funds, including Emily Cline, witness statements from the foundation’s financial services division, bank account and routing numbers, evidence logs from the scene at Calvin Dailey’s home and lists of documents taken off the foundation’s servers—it was all here.
It all pointed to Raleigh as the primary suspect.
Whoever’d set this entire game in motion had covered their bases. The feds’ case had practically been gift wrapped for them with a damn bow and a silver platter, but Beckett wouldn’t let them win. Raleigh was innocent. The proof was in the bullet wound in his shoulder, the stab wound in his thigh and the piece of shrapnel in her side. Emily Cline had been hired by whoever’d taken that money to tie up loose ends. That’d included the mother of his child. It was a miracle they’d gotten out of there alive, but the nightmare wasn’t over. Not until they uncovered who’d framed her for embezzling those funds. Until then he’d make damn sure they never got another shot at her.
The sun dipped behind the surrounding mountains and cast rays of pink and orange across the main level of the cabin. Beckett slid his attention to the sleeping woman on the couch, the circles under her eyes lighter than a few days ago. They’d spent most of the afternoon talking about the baby, what symptoms Raleigh had been feeling up to this point, checking her wound. She’d even let him put his hand over her stomach in hopes he’d feel a kick. Didn’t work, but despite the resentment he’d wedged between them, he’d missed having someone this close, someone he could trust. Damn, if he were being honest with himself, he’d simply missed her. Her fight, her drive, her dedication to make any given moment more awkward between them. A short laugh burst from his chest, but quickly died as reality set in. Only problem with disappearing into the bubble they’d created together was it didn’t stop the real world from going on, and it wouldn’t solve this case.
But he would. For her, for their family and their future. Because no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself otherwise, she’d gotten under his skin.
Beckett turned back to the laptop and started where this had all begun. The foundation’s accounts. According to Raleigh, nearly twenty people had access to that money, and he’d dig into every single one of them until he got a hit. He paged through the statements collected at the beginning of the investigation, then checked the real-time balances of the accounts and leaned away from the computer.
“That can’t be right.” All of the affected accounts had been frozen the moment the FBI caught wind funds were missing. The entire foundation had been shut down from operating as long as the case was ongoing. So why was there a difference between the account statement logged four months ago and the current funds in the account? None of that money should’ve been accessible. He clicked through to the transfer history, noting the user ID below each amount moved from the account. Dozens of transfers leading up to Raleigh’s arrest, all totaling one penny short of ten thousand dollars, the threshold unflagged by the federal government, but the last transfer—the largest of them all—had been made one day after Raleigh’s arrest. Before the bank had frozen the accounts on the feds’ order. Only she couldn’t have made that transfer while she’d been in FBI custody. He grabbed his phone and used the calculator app, subtracting the difference between the original statements and the current balances. His low whistle pierced through the silence. One million dollars had gone missing the day after the accounts had been frozen, in addition to the original fifty-point-five million.
He could take this to the district attorney. He could show the transfers—all of them—hadn’t been conducted by Raleigh but by someone else using her credentials, but it wasn’t hard evidence. The DA would argue she had someone working on the inside, or that Beckett’s judgment had been compromised. That she could’ve gotten access to a device without the feds knowing, or any number of valid variables. The sight of her on his phone as he’d come downstairs a few hours ago flashed across his memory, but he pushed that theory into the small black box at the back of his mind. She didn’t have anyone on the inside. She wasn’t transferring funds out of her own charity’s accounts, and his judgment hadn’t been compromised. He knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of. Beckett paged through the more recent statements. The money had to have gone somewhere, to another account the feds hadn’t flagged. All he had to do was find the leak, and this would be over.
“You figured out there’s more money missing.” Movement pulled him from focus as Raleigh pushed upright in his peripheral vision, one hand on her side, but she refused to let her expression show how much pain she was in,
and his gut tightened. Always out to impress, to prove she was the strongest.
“Have you suddenly developed the ability to read my mind?” He pressed back into the bar-stool cushion and ran a hand through his hair as frustration took hold. Nobody could move that much money without tipping off the executives or the FBI, considering Raleigh’s arrest had put the entire foundation under the microscope. There had to be a reason it hadn’t been flagged. “Or is it some kind of sixth sense that comes with being pregnant?”
“Maybe it’s Reed’s shirt giving me extra abilities.” Her laugh resonated through him as she slid one hand across his shoulders. The scrape of her nails across his skin raised the hairs on the back of his neck, eliciting remnants of the electricity they’d shared during that kiss back at the ranch. Raleigh studied the laptop’s screen. “I saw the difference in the statements a few weeks after my arrest. IT was supposed to cut off my access, and for a while I think they had, but then I saw a single transfer notification sitting in my email when I logged in a few weeks ago. Someone had turned my access back on and had used it to make one more transfer after my arrest. And to make it look like I was the one who’d done it.”
Clear green eyes connected with his as she leaned into him. Her voice hollowed, and it took everything in him not to give in to his explosive need for her bubbling to the surface. “When Emily had me tied to that chair in the barn, she confirmed my suspicion there’d been additional funds funneled out of the accounts into one the feds hadn’t flagged yet, but at the time, the only thing I could focus on was you. I didn’t know if you were alive, if you were dead, what the hell I’d gotten you into. I’ve already lost everyone I care about, Beckett. I didn’t want to lose you, too. Not again.”
“Hey, hey, listen to me.” Beckett stood, pulling her in to his chest. Right where she belonged. A perfect fit against him. As though she’d been specifically made to fill the hole he’d been living with nearly his entire life. She hooked both arms under his, caging him between her elbows. Her vanilla scent tickled the back of his throat, and he breathed her in with every last ounce of spare room he had in his lungs, making her part of him. Forever. As he wrapped her in his arms, the world—his sense of justice, integrity, service, everything he thought he’d been standing for all these years—crashed down around him. Even at the threat of torture and pain from a malicious killer, his fugitive had put herself at risk. For him. Damn it all to hell, he loved her for it. Was in love with her. “You didn’t get me into this, remember? I came after you. I made the choice to see this through until the end, and we’re not done yet. We’ve survived this long. You, me and our baby. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”
Nodding, she splayed her hand over his heart, her hair catching on his beard under his chin. “Together.”
“We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to find whoever framed you. No matter what happens, I’m not giving up. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you and the baby.” Beckett combed his hands through her long dark hair. “It’d take a tedious amount of patience and power to hide behind the hundreds of transfers it’s taken to pull a heist like this off. Every step they’ve made is recommitting to building a case against you that would require months if not years of planning. Which executives have been at the foundation the longest aside from you?”
“Calvin and I started the foundation three years ago.” Raleigh slid out of his arms, swiping at her face. “I guess the next executive would be one of our lower-level chief officers. She took over some of my duties about a year ago. Everyone else has been with the foundation for less time than that.”
His instincts prickled. “How did you and Calvin meet?”
“At another charity event. I was trying to find investors on my own, and we happened to be seated at the same table. We got to talking. I told him my idea to provide expectant mothers with resources and education to help lower birthing mortality rates, and he wanted to help.” She folded her hands into one another as she talked. “We worked together to raise the initial capital we needed to bring education and services to mothers here in Oregon, then spent the next few months writing pitches to local businesses and corporations for donations before we went national.”
“You didn’t run a background check on Calvin?” he asked. “Didn’t ask why he was so interested in helping accelerate your work? Why he approached you?”
“Approached me? I just told you we were seated at the same table at another charity event. What do you mean?” Mesmerizing green eyes narrowed on his. She took a step back, taking the heat she’d generated deep below his skin with her. Color drained from her face, and he reached out for her in case she lost her balance. She shook her head. “You can’t...you can’t possibly think Calvin had anything to do with this. He was attacked because I brought him into this. I went to him with the evidence I’d collected, and now he’s missing.”
She held on to her side, and a different theory hit him in the gut. The blood. Reed had an entire freezer full of stored bags of blood in case of emergency. For a former combat medic and a US marshal, that wasn’t entirely unusual, but what if whoever’d framed Raleigh had had the same idea?
“You’re right. He’s missing, but I don’t think you had any part in that. The Portland Police Bureau hasn’t found a body. Just a lot of DNA evidence that could’ve been easily planted with a few bags of stored blood.” Beckett gripped her arms, compelling her to look up at him. To at least face the idea it was a possibility. “You didn’t bring your business partner into this at all. It was the other way around. Raleigh, I think Calvin Dailey stole that money, framed you for embezzlement and faked his death to get away with it. You’ve been a mark from the beginning.”
* * *
IT WASN’T POSSIBLE. Calvin wouldn’t...
A high-pitched ringing filled her ears as she pulled out of Beckett’s reach. Three years of conversations, of dinner parties, of late-night pitch writing came into question in a matter of seconds. Her hands shook as she pushed one through her hair. Calvin had escaped a hired killer. Not faked his death. He couldn’t have stolen all that money. Wouldn’t have framed her. They were friends, partners in building something they could be proud of. Right? He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t do this to her.
Raleigh closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over her. The timing of his disappearance, the fact he’d known how to reach her on Beckett’s phone. The easy answer would be to put his face in that dark silhouette that’d been at the front of her mind since her arrest. The pieces fit better than she wanted to admit. Calvin could have planned this from the beginning. He could’ve been the one to frame her to take the fall. Because she was an easy mark. Just like Emily Cline had accused her of being.
“Talk to me.” Beckett’s grip on her arms held her up as the entire world she’d built threatened to shatter right in front of her. “Tell me what’s going through your head.”
“I...I need some air.” She didn’t know what else to say, what to think. She couldn’t breathe without her chest tightening, and it felt as though the walls were closing in on her. She had to get out of here. Tugging out of Beckett’s hold, she pushed past him toward the sliding back door of the cabin. She moved on autopilot, and within seconds, freezing air worked deep into her lungs. The outdoor scent of pine and earth—more pronounced than Beckett’s natural aroma—filled the dark, empty spaces clawing for escape inside. Raleigh clutched on to the wood railing with everything she had. She’d barely processed the fact she was pregnant with Beckett’s baby and had unshouldered the emotionally traumatic weight she’d carried her entire life, and now she was supposed to accept her closest confidant had turned her into a criminal? The muscles in her jaw ached as she clenched her back teeth. No. Anger blotted out the beauty and expanse of wilderness stretching miles in every direction as she dug her fingernails into the railing. If Calvin was responsible for her arrest—for everything—he hadn’t just done this to her. H
e’d put her baby at risk, and she wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
The sliding glass door protested on its track from behind. She didn’t have to turn around to know he’d followed her. Her back warmed as Beckett drew near, and right then she wanted nothing more than to pretend he wasn’t a US marshal and she wasn’t his fugitive, but hiding from the truth didn’t change anything. Hiding problems didn’t heal them. She had to face it.
“He’s alive. Calvin. He called me on your phone.” Raleigh notched her chin over her shoulder, keeping him in her peripheral vision as he settled both elbows against the railing beside her. “That’s who I was talking to right before you came downstairs. He convinced me Emily Cline had tortured him for information on the secondary account, like she’d threatened us, and I believed him. I agreed to keep his secret because I thought I was the one who’d put him in danger by coming to him with the evidence in the first place. I lied to you.” Heat climbed her neck and into her face. She’d lied to a US marshal, but it was more than that. She’d lied to him, the one person who’d willingly positioned himself between a hired gunwoman and her and promised to protect their unborn baby, and she hated herself for it. She’d have to accept the consequences, whatever they may be, and her heart hurt thinking of all the possibilities of what that meant. Of losing him again.
Because over the past few days, she’d let herself care about him again. Cleaning her wounds from the bark, giving up the last of his food and water for her, taking on a professional killer so she could escape. He’d carefully chiseled his way through the hardened exterior she’d built from being unwanted for most of her life, and now there was nothing left. Nothing but him. Whether he’d kept his word to see this investigation through to the end because of the pregnancy, his job with the Marshals or for her, it didn’t matter. He’d made her feel wanted, desired even, and she’d hang on to this feeling as long as she could.
The Fugitive Page 13
