by Renée Dahlia
Finally! Why did laptops take so long to wake up? Zoe opened the search engine and started typing. One of the first hits showed Joanne and her boyfriend Tanner outside a courtroom. Tanner … Tanner’s Farm Equipment. She opened the article and scanned through it. Tanner was walking free after being found not guilty of killing some guy called John Lindsey in a one-punch attack. Lindsey Transport. Zoe’s hands shook as she read the article, beads of sweat forming on her palms. Joanne had gotten herself caught up in some bad business. Zoe scrolled back to the top of the page to find the date, and gasped. June, more than two years ago, before the scam had started. But how had they gone from outright murder to the subtle crime of skimming cash from a business? And why Kiet’s business? Or were they doing it to lot of people? Did Mr Andersen know?
Zoe saved the article, emailing a copy of it to Kiet, and another to Jade as backup, just in case something went wrong. If she was going to interview Mr Andersen to find out the answer, she would do it properly. She marched to her room and pulled a business suit off its hanger.
Chapter 15
The cab dropped her outside the Andersens’ home in Rainbow Cove. She’d already been to his office, only to find it closed for the holiday period. The Andersen house was on one of the nicest streets in town, where large houses were standard, and everyone had a pool or a big deck overlooking the town and the river.
Zoe thanked the driver and steadied herself with several large breaths. How should she approach him? She’d emailed all the evidence to Kiet as a safeguard. Because Mr Andersen was a member of her parents’ church, she was sure he didn’t know what his daughter had done. How would he react to the news? Would he help her find his daughter and try to pull her back to the straight and narrow? She might not agree with the church’s beliefs anymore, but she trusted their sense of morality to keep her safe as she visited him, alone, with the evidence. With unsteady strides, she walked to the front door and knocked. She quickly sent a text to Jade as she waited for a response. Better take a few precautions, regardless of her logical position on her safety.
Zoe: At the Andersen house. Check yr emails.
The bright sky belied the squicky feeling in her gut—shouldn’t the weather be grey and ominous as she embarked on this confrontation? This was a bad idea. It didn’t matter how many ways she’d protected herself, she was still approaching a man with evidence that his daughter was a criminal. Shouldn’t she go to the cops first? She was deliberately putting herself in potential danger, but bad things happened to women all the time, even when they did everything right.
Zoe gave in to the doubt swirling in her stomach and turned to walk away when the door opened. She swallowed back a squeak. An older man opened the door, with grey hair and pale, sallow skin, and the type of face that had spent too long inside, complete with blue eyes and a smattering of red gin blossoms on his nose. Mr Andersen reminded her of her old boss in the city: competitive, but also a functioning alcoholic who used wine as a crutch to slow his mind at the end of long days in the office. Her boss had a kindness, and she scanned Mr Andersen’s face to see if she could find the same.
‘Yes.’ It should have been a question, but somehow wasn’t.
She stuck out her hand and smiled. ‘Hi. I’m Zoe Russell …’ She left the rest of her statement about Tanner’s Farm Equipment unspoken.
‘Little Zoe Russell. All grown up. How are your parents?’ Mr Andersen’s face softened and the tautness in Zoe’s chest eased. ‘You’d better come in.’ He turned and walked inside, leaving the door open for her. Zoe looked around, and then tamped down the last piece of doubt before she stepped inside. She opened the camera app and started recording a video, tucking her phone carefully into her handbag, so her phone would keep an audible record of their conversation.
‘What would you like to know?’ Mr Andersen sat at a kitchen table covered in piles of paper. He’d adopted a pose that she supposed he thought made him look pleasant. Unimposing. Unthreatening. And yet, the deliberate way he’d sat himself like that made her want to flee. She swallowed down the worry—Kiet needed to know. How should she play this?
‘Mr Andersen. It’s been an age.’
‘Yes. I have to say this is a pleasant surprise. Your parents are disappointed with your decision, but I hope your coming here is the first step towards reconciliation.’
Zoe frowned. What? Did he really think she was here for church business? ‘I’m sorry. You must be mistaken. This isn’t about my parents. Did you know I work as an accountant?’
‘I’d heard that you do some clerical work for Xander McIntyre.’ His dismissal of her job riled her, and all the doubt about whether she should be here alone was swept away as angry heat rose up her spine. She glared at him.
‘Is Tanner’s Farm Equipment a client of yours?’ She knew he’d probably claim confidentiality and clam up to say nothing, but it was worth a crack.
‘Yes.’ Hold on, that was the last thing she expected. She fought to keep the surprise off her face.
‘And Lindsey Transport?’
‘Yes. Do you have a point?’
‘Are you aware of the connection between your daughter and these companies?’ Zoe stared at him, fighting to keep a poker face, keeping her chin high. She’d always hated these client interactions—the ones with victims always broke her heart, and the ones with the criminals made her so bloody angry. The way scammers deflected and found excuses while pretending they hadn’t done all the things she laid out in concrete evidence really messed with her view of humanity. She’d rather be kind and naïve, than have the kind of ugliness of spirit that allowed scammers to exist.
‘Who are you?’ His eyes narrowed.
‘Zoe Russell. Forensic accountant.’ She let the bitterness at his earlier dismissal of her work come through with a sneer in her tone. How dare he belittle her? She was so tired of being a people-pleaser, minimising conflict to help stem the way her parents controlled every aspect of her childhood. Andersen was a small town accountant, going through the motions, while she had years of experience in the city working on difficult cases. She knew more about taxation law and how people subvert the system than him. She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent a little smile—her experience and his ego would allow her to trip him up. She’d just have to get past her subconscious need to please her elders. She could stand up for herself and her superior skill level.
‘I don’t understand why you have come here. Is there a problem with my daughter’s companies?’
Zoe didn’t believe his innocent statement. If anything, it made her wonder how much he knew. Had his daughter conned him too? Did he really think the companies were real?
‘So you acknowledge that Joanne Andersen owns Lindsey Transport and Tanner’s Farm Equipment and several other companies?’
‘That’s a matter of public record.’
‘Are you aware that these two companies have been sending falsified invoices?’
He frowned and shook his head sharply, almost with a violence that made a lie of his prior comments. ‘No. That’s impossible.’ He rose to his feet, his mouth stretching into a contorted smile. ‘I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you come with me, and we can visit the transport depot. You’ll see the trucks for yourself and you can sort out any misunderstanding with Joanne.’
Zoe didn’t like being seated with him standing, so she also stood up. ‘You want to drive me to the Lindsey Transport yard?’ He’d jumped to that conclusion far too fast, without her prompting, and all her senses were tingling—not in a good way.
‘Yes. It’s the most efficient way of resolving any misunderstanding.’ If she didn’t know the invoices were fake, she might have believed his faux-innocence. If she didn’t have loads of experience in watching scammers try and talk their way out of their crimes, she might have not seen the way his eye twitched at the corner, and the micro-frown under his attempt at an open expression. One thing about this interaction was different, she thought. Scammers usually tried a different tack�
��confusion, or irritation. Not this very blandly spoken suggestion that she should get into his car. And given what she knew, there was no way she was getting into a car with him. She wasn’t stupid.
‘I’ll meet you there.’ Zoe stood up and started to leave. If only Betty hadn’t been written off in the storm on Christmas Day, she would have her own car here. As she turned her back on him, his hand grabbed her arm and wrenched her around.
‘You will come with me.’ He dragged her through the house and panic emptied her mind. She couldn’t even scream. Her whole body seemed frozen, apart from her feet scrambling on the tiled floor to stay upright as he marched her through his house. He paused to open a door and she sucked in a deep breath and remembered one important point. Her phone. She prayed it was still recording. If there was a time for prayer, surely it was now. Thankfully, she’d worn her handbag crossed over her chest so it stuck tight against her hip as Mr Andersen manhandled her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Every tiny sound rose in volume. The scrape of her sandals on the tiles. The swish of fabric as she was pulled along. The little slap of her handbag against her hip with each stride.
‘Where are you taking me?’ Zoe spoke loud and clear.
‘Never you mind. You shouldn’t have come here alone.’ Apparently, he wasn’t going to be like a villain in a movie and confess to her while she was recording him. She wanted to curse and scream but didn’t dare say anything that interrupted the evidence her phone was—hopefully—recording. ‘Get in.’
‘What if I say no?’
‘I wouldn’t recommend that. Look around. Any of these tools could do you damage.’ He flicked on a light switch, and Zoe nearly cackled with fright. She was in a bloody horror movie. Her skin went cold—it wasn’t a joke—yet she couldn’t help but see the ridiculousness in this situation. She’d always wondered how she’d react in a life-threatening situation. In all her imaginings, hysterical laughter had never been an option. Tools lined one wall of the Andersen garage, and it didn’t take much imagination to see him hitting her on the head with a hammer. Would he chop her up with that saw as well?
‘Let me go, and I’ll get in your car.’
He released her arm and she resisted the urge to rub the bruise that was surely forming. He’d held her arm far too hard and the blood rushing back through her arm hurt almost as much as his grip. Pins and needles in her fingertips added a slight wooziness.
‘Get in.’ He opened the passenger door and she slid inside before he could push her. She wanted to check her phone to see if it was still recording but didn’t dare. The unsteady thump of her heartbeat had become a new normal. She was being kidnapped by a fellow accountant, by an unfit old man, who still had physical power over her. This was no joking matter. She’d made a decision to confront him alone, and now she was paying the price for her bad choice. It was one thing to solve the crime—quite another to become the victim. She pulled the door shut before he could and clipped on her seatbelt. Her hands didn’t even shake. If this was the end, she would calmly go towards it without the irrational gurgle of emotion that filled her throat and might spill out at any minute. She watched Mr Andersen walk around the front of the car, like a predator stalking his prey.
‘I’m inside Mr Andersen’s car. He claims we are going to the Lindsey Transport yard. I don’t believe his claim of innocence.’ Please God, her phone was still recording. If it wasn’t, her comment would be in vain.
Mr Andersen opened the driver’s side door and slipped into his seat. He tucked the seatbelt around himself. The slick motion made Zoe realise he wasn’t as unfit as she’d assumed. For a guy of fifty, he had the usual beer gut, but looked fit enough to overpower her if he so chose, and she shrank back into the seat. She was in desperate trouble. Cold sweat slid down her spine and pooled in the crack of her butt. He revved the engine as he pushed a button on a clip attached to his sunshade. The garage door opened and the big V8 engine roared as Mr Andersen drove out of his house to who knows where.
***
As they drove along the streets, Zoe kept silent. She watched carefully to see where they were going, and as they left town, she realised they were headed towards Kiet’s farm.
‘Is the depot down by the river mouth?’ She hoped he thought she believed his lie about going to see Joanne’s pretend trucks.
‘You stupid, stupid girl. You had to go hunting through the accounts, didn’t you?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The invoices. Connecting Joanne to the farm invoices.’
‘What about it?’ Zoe tamped down the rising panic, trying to keep her voice low and steady.
‘Just before you arrived, I had a phone call from Kiet at the oyster farm. He knows. And then, you turn up.’
‘And?’ Maybe Zoe would get him to confess.
‘And nothing. You already know too much.’ He drove fiercely, flinging the car around the corners as they headed along the winding country road, over the hill, and down towards Kiet’s home. Zoe gripped the edges of the seat, her knuckles white and her palms wet with sweat. She’d barely started living life and now it was all going to end at the hands of a scammer. If she survived, she was going to do all the things she’d been too worried about trying before now. She would kiss Kiet, she’d drink bubbles with Narelle on the jetty at the farm, she’d hug Jade. She’d eat all the cupcakes instead of stressing about only having one a week for the sake of her weight. She’d stop listening to her mother’s negative voice in her head about her weight.
‘Why did you do it?’ For someone so concerned about the details, and confirming everything, she’d missed one crucial thing. Mr Andersen had the skills and knowledge to set up this scam. He was behind it—using his daughter’s name to hide his nefarious plan. She realised she’d known it was him from the moment he dragged her into the car. He wasn’t doing that to defend Joanne, he was all about saving his own arse.
‘Do what?’ A drip of sweat slid down his temple, and she knew she was right. This was the worst time to be right, and yet the satisfaction sat on top of all the other emotions as a thin layer to the panic infusing her whole body. She tried another tactic.
‘What did you do with the money? Got burned on the stock market? Need to top up the mortgage to keep your position as one of the town’s leaders?’ Taunting him was probably a bad idea, but what did she have to lose now?
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘It is my business.’ Zoe felt a strange calm flow over her. ‘If you used the money to hide a problem, it can’t be as bad as the problems you’ll have if you hurt me. Nothing is worth having that on your conscience. God can’t take away that burden …’ She’d lost her own faith, and his actions didn’t exactly inspire her to believe that an appeal about godliness would work. She used the only ace card she had left. People knew she was with him. If the worst happened, he was going to get caught.
‘There shall be no bloodguilt if I defend my family. God is my only judge.’ Did he really think that quoting the Old Testament would suffice? Did he not realise people knew she’d gone to confront him?
‘Exodus 22.2.’ Zoe had spent years learning the Bible by heart. ‘You might be okay with God judging your actions, but the law will also judge you.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’ The beads of sweat rolling down his temples gave away his lie, as did the way his knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel.
‘Of course, you are such a pillar of the community. Part of my father’s church, one of the town’s trusted accountants, a town councillor. No one would believe you could be capable of this. You needed the money to keep your position in town—it’s not really a crime when you can do so much good with the money.’ Zoe needled him as she fished for more information. Pandering to his ego might yet get her out of this situation safely.
‘That’s correct. The money is for a good cause.’
Zoe wanted to roll her eyes. Was the apparent good cause the lining of his own pockets? �
�People will know. You’ve kidnapped me and you can’t hide that.’
‘They will never find out. You’ll be dead soon.’
‘Did you just admit you plan to kill me? Remember that Kiet called you. He knows about the invoices, and he’ll work out where I am. Are you going to kill us both?’
‘No. He’s going to kill you, and then himself. At the farm.’
Zoe glanced down at her handbag, unable to stop herself. How much battery did her phone have left? Would there be enough memory? They were only a couple of kilometres from the farm now. She only had a few minutes to extract herself from this situation.
‘No one will ever work it out. After all, you named the false companies after your daughter’s boyfriend and the man he killed.’ Zoe threw her final piece of evidence at him. There was no advantage in her keeping that to herself any longer. The car sped up, and Zoe glanced at Mr Andersen again. His florid face reddened and he gripped the steering wheel tighter. She checked her seatbelt—her adventure with Kiet started with a car crash, and now it might end with one.
‘How did you know?’ His extra admission made her want to punch the air. Yes! Now she had a full confession from him—not just that he intended to kill her, but that he’d defrauded Kiet’s business. Her phone better be recording this. But the tangy smell of his anxiety filled the car and she couldn’t celebrate yet. She still needed to get away from him.
‘The internet.’ Zoe pushed him. ‘Anyone with the internet could find it out. Anyone who reads the paper saw the news, how Tanner killed Mr Lindsey. Did you honestly think people wouldn’t make that connection?’ She thought it over. Simply having a connection to an unsavoury murder, even one found not guilty on a technicality, would threaten the Andersens’ position in the township. So if this was about ego and protecting his reputation, why Kiet’s farm? Was it simply opportunity? The car slid into a corner, and she tightened her already impossibly tight grip on the seat. Mr Andersen wrestled with the wheel to keep the car on the road.
