Page 12

Chapter Twelve

J etta parked behind Seth’s car, her emotions more tangled than a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. Mom’s words about Seth being a kind man repeated in her mind. Her heart thumped a little bit faster as he waited for her on the sidewalk. Something about this big man with his peaceful spirit drew her to him. The desire to know more of who he was pulsated through her veins. While her mind screamed caution, given her colossal mistake with Kyle, her heart kept nudging her to let Seth into her life.

“How’s your mom?” He motioned for her to proceed him up the walkway.

“Still a bit shaken but okay. Detective Brady will send an officer to sit outside her room at night for at least a few days.” She sighed, worry for her mother’s safety nibbling at her frayed nerves. “Apparently, the person avoided the security cameras and wore gloves, so there’s not much evidence to figure out their identity. Mom thinks it was a man, but she can’t be a hundred percent certain.”

“I’m happy to keep watch overnight too.” He flashed her a soft smile, one that made his chocolate brown eyes sparkle.

She placed a hand on her suddenly racing heart. Why had she never noticed how expressive his eyes were with their impossibly long lashes? He seemed to expect a reply, but she couldn’t remember what he’d said. She drew in a deep breath to give herself time to recall. Right. He’d offered to keep an eye on Mom at night. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.” He found the camera doorbell and rang it. When a strong male voice requested their identities, he replied with their names.

“Ah, right on time. Come on in.”

The door lock disengaged with an audible click, and Seth pushed it open, then stepped back to allow Jetta to pass through first. As she moved past him, the scent of cedar mixed with a light soap wafted over her, igniting an urge to bury her face on his broad chest and cling to his strong arms. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t want to fling herself into another man’s embrace given her pregnant state.

A tall, silver-haired man came into view from a doorway a little way down the hall, interrupting her thoughts. “This way, please.”

Seth’s hand at the small of her back as they walked down the hallway warmed her, easing some of her tension. The pleasant room with a large bay window overlooked the backyard, which at first glance resembled an overgrown jungle. Jetta drifted to the window for a better view. Closer inspection revealed order with enclosed beds holding wildflowers gradually going to seed while stone walkways intertwined among them. Mature trees dotted the landscape, with neatly trimmed bushes serving as boundary markers along the edges.

“You like it?” The man joined her. “I spent the first six months of my retirement redoing the bland grassy expanse into something more interesting.”

“I do.” She smiled. “It’s messy but organized.”

He laughed. “That’s exactly it. Most people simply see the overgrowth and assume I’ve let it go to pot.”

“You’ve created something for the pollinators and other insects and animals, not necessarily for humans.”

The man clapped Seth on the back after his observation. “Another insight many do not get. Frank Warner.”

“Seth Whitman,” he said, then touched Jetta’s arm. “This is Jetta Ainsley. Her father was Jay Ainsley.”

Mr. Warner sobered. “I’m so sorry about your father, Ms. Ainsley.”

“Thank you, and please, call me Jetta.” She turned away from the window. “We appreciate you talking about the case with us.”

After asking if they’d like a beverage, which they declined, Mr. Warner said, “Let’s have a seat.” He chose a leather club chair while Jetta plopped down on the loveseat, Seth beside her.

His thigh pressed lightly against hers, then he shifted his away. She refrained from scooting closer to him, missing the feeling of safety.

“What would you like to know?”

She spread her hands out. “Anything. Everything. I recently learned of the embezzlement charges, so I only know what I read in the news.”

Mr. Warner steepled his fingers. “My office never officially launched an investigation into the embezzlement at Topher Robotics.”

Seth frowned. “I thought FinCEN was the source for the Fairfax County Police Department’s probe.”

“No, Fairfax came to us with the evidence against Ainsley.”

Jetta digested that bit of news. “Why would they come to FinCEN?”

“At the time, they didn’t have the resources to launch a deeper investigation into Topher Robotics and were hoping we would.”

“So the cops suspected the embezzlement was the tip of the iceberg,” Seth said.

Mr. Warner nodded. “In cases involving this much money, that’s usually correct. However, when Ainsley died, the investigation did too.”

“You never looked into the company’s finances?” Jetta curbed her frustration. She’d been hoping for answers, not more questions.

“Not officially.”

She picked up on Mr. Warner’s word choice. “But unofficially?”

“I didn’t like the way the Topher family went after your father so viciously in the press. Your mother should have sued them for slander, since your father was charged but not convicted of embezzlement. But with the case essentially closed, my hands were tied.” Mr. Warner sighed. “I’ve known Peter Topher for years. At the time of your father’s death, he was transferring more power to his three children. His wife had been pushing him to retire so they could travel more.”

Seth leaned back, slipping his arm along the back of the loveseat behind her. Jetta gave into temptation and rested her back against the cushions, shifting toward him a little and hoping he’d wrap his arm around her shoulders. He didn’t but he also didn’t move his arm.

“Peter came to me a couple of weeks after Ainsley died, asking if I would take a look at the company books—strictly off the record and without his kids’ knowledge.”

When Mr. Warner stayed quiet, Seth prompted, “Did you?”

“I did. As I said, Peter was an old friend.” Mr. Warner again didn’t continue for several seconds. Then he stood. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

After Mr. Warner left, Jetta swiveled to face Seth. “Where do you suppose he’s going?”

“To get his copy of the books.”

“What? You think he made a copy of the company financial statements? Wouldn’t that be—”

“Unethical?” Mr. Warner re-entered, a bulging accordion folder in his hands. “Perhaps a little, but I had Peter’s permission to examine the documents, and my gut said something wasn’t right. My initial perusal showed nothing out of the ordinary, which was what I told Peter. By then, he expressed regret in bringing me in and said he was satisfied everything was as it should be. I returned the documents but not until I’d made a copy.”

“Why?” Seth asked the question burning in Jetta’s mind. Mr. Warner exuded integrity and had been a higher up at FinCEN for years before his retirement.

“Because I wasn’t convinced of Ainsley’s guilt for one.” Mr. Warner retook his seat, setting the folder on his lap. “And because the financial documents were a little too neat. Nothing I could point a finger at, but something about them didn’t sit well with me.”

“What did you find?” Jetta gazed at the folder, praying it contained concrete evidence exonerating her father.

“Nothing because I never looked at them again.” Mr. Warner placed a hand on the folder. “My wife received a cancer diagnoses a few weeks later, and I completely forgot about Topher Robotics. She lost her fight three years ago.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Seth said, the compassion in his voice evident.

Mr. Warner nodded, the tears glistening in his eyes reminding her of her mother’s abiding love for her father. No one spoke for a couple of minutes, then Jetta asked, “Will you look at the documents now?”

“Yes, I will.” He touched the folder. “It will take a while.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Seth removed his arm from the couch back.

“Actually, there is.” Mr. Warner unfastened the string holding the folder together and extracted a bundle of papers. “These are invoices from outside vendors. It’s not every invoice, of course, but I’d asked for at least one from each vendor they paid over a two-year period prior to Ainsley’s death. Would you check each one to see if they did the work or sent the goods listed on the invoices?”

“We’ll verify these.” Seth accepted the papers.

Jetta caught onto the importance of checking the vendors. “Because you can siphon off money through fake invoices.”

“Exactly. I’ll give you my email address. Update me as you work your way through the invoices.” Mr. Warner provided the address. “May I ask why you’re looking into this now?”

Jetta shot a glance at Seth, who nodded. She explained about her mother’s fresh desire to clear her dad’s name, plus the envelope that had taken fifteen years to arrive. “My mom wants me to find out what I can. I think cleaning out the family home while she’s in rehab has also brought it all back.”

“A letter accompanied the statements and spreadsheets?”

“Yes, written on a computer with nothing to identify the author.” Jetta wished she’d have thought to bring a copy of the envelope’s contents to let Mr. Warner have a peek.

“Finding out who sent the documents would shed more light on who could be responsible for the embezzlement,” Mr. Warner said.

“We can probably get a list of employees at Topher Robotics from that time, but I wouldn’t know where to start IDing the letter writer.” Seth set the stack of invoices on the coffee table.

“It’s usually someone who had access to the money in some fashion,” Mr. Warner pointed out. “I’d start with the finance department, but also look at any position that could submit invoices. Oh, and I’ll bet the embezzlement started out with small amounts. Once the person realized no one noticed, she could increase the amounts.”

“She?” Jetta hadn’t considered a woman as being behind the embezzlement.

“Oh, yes. Embezzlement of this kind—stealing from the company directly, not some sort of Ponzi scheme—is usually done by a female employee.” Mr. Warner got to his feet. “I have a garden club dinner I need to prepare for, but please don’t hesitate to ask if you have more questions.”

Seth rose, holding out his hand to Jetta, who accepted his assistance in rising from the loveseat. “Thank you for your time.”

“If I can help right a wrong, I’m happy to do it.” Mr. Warner walked them to the front door. “However, I must warn you that if I find your father did indeed take that money, I’ll report that as well.”

Fear that she might not be able to prove her father’s innocence swept over Jetta. Then her mother’s determined face, her certainty Dad had been framed, washed away the fear. “I have to know for sure whether he’s guilty or innocence.”

On the sidewalk beside their vehicles, Seth checked his phone. “I’ve got to cover the City of Fairfax’s City Council meeting for The Herald .”

“Oh, okay, see you later.” Disappointment slumped her shoulders, but she squelched it by straightening her spine. She was the one who constantly reminded Seth he was firmly in the friend zone by her actions, so why should she be disappointed when he went to work rather than suggesting dinner with her? Perhaps because she wasn’t as indifferent to his presence as she tried to pretend she was.

* * *

Mae resisted glancing behind her as she walked through the research facility, something she did frequently enough no one paid her the least bit of attention. However, this time, she wasn’t on a mission from her boss but for her mysterious contact. After she’d sent the board meeting minutes, all had been quiet, lulling her into thinking she was once again home free.

When she’d arrived home yesterday, a package with a burner phone had been delivered, and she’d known the meeting minutes had only been the first salvo in a protracted siege. Once she’d powered up the phone, a text demanded she make a trip to R&D and discover as much as she could about Project Z. This morning, she’d easily uncovered the project wasn’t on the official list of R&D projects, which stumped her. How could she find out info about a nonexistent venture? Then she realized her position as the CEO’s administrative assistant gave her leave to request info with Ryan’s implied authority. Thus her end-of-business day trip to R&D.

She checked the list of projects against rooms as she worked her way down the long hallway. All listed projects had corresponding labs, but the two doors at the very end of the corridor were blank. A keypad with a smaller, fingerprint scanner beside one of the doors alerted her she might have found Project Z. All the other labs had keypads, not biometric scanners.

This time she gave into the urge to look over her shoulder. No one lingered in the hallway. Drawing in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and knocked firmly on the door. Silence. She knocked again, louder, allowing her frustration and fear to power her knuckles. This time, the door opened to reveal a man about her height wearing a white lab coat.

“Who are you?”

She ignored the snap to his tone. “Mae Stanhope, Ryan Topher’s personal assistant.”

The man didn’t move from the doorway or relax his scowl. “What do you want?”

“Mr. Topher requests an update on Project Z.” She’d rehearsed what to say and the words came out with authority.

“He does, does he?” The man crossed his arms, his frown deepening the lines bracketing his mouth. “Why didn’t he come himself?”

“Because he’s too busy trying to save this company from a hostile takeover.” She put a hand on her hip.

The man huffed. “You can tell Ryan the test went as planned and we’re moving into phase two.”

She nodded as if she knew what he meant. “He’ll be pleased to hear that. What’s involved in phase two?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “That’s all you’ll get out of me.” The door swung shut in her face.

Mae shrugged, then returned to her desk to retrieve her belongings before hustling to her car. Once off campus, she pulled into a grocery store parking lot and texted her contact.

Project Z is a secret. Work behind an unmarked door on the research floor. Security keypad and fingerprint entry. Going to phase 2.

She hit send and waited, sure her contact would respond quickly.

Good. Need more details. Take photos.

Mae muttered a word her father had often used when frustrated.

How? Very secure unit. It was hard to pry that info out. If Ryan finds out…

I’m sure you’ll think of something.

She wasn’t a superspy, for goodness’ sake. Her phone vibrated again.

You have until next Tuesday.

The coffin emoji next to an older man emoji shocked Mae. She’d considered only of her own exposure, not that her husband would be threatened. But the emojis spelled out her contact’s intent to kill Mae’s husband if she didn’t comply. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel, tears slipping from her eyes. Not for the first time, she wished she’d resisted temptation to fudge that initial invoice and pocket the difference. The bills for her father’s care had been mounting faster than she and Anderson could pay, and they were dangerously close to losing their house. Anderson had no idea how fast and loose she’d been playing with their finances, wrongly assuming her father had had enough on his own to cover his expenses. That might have happened, but Mae found out a nursing home staffer had convinced her father to open a separate bank account in her name and transfer regular payments there. The woman had been caught, but the money would never be recovered. Moving him to a facility with more oversight had been the only way she could ensure he wouldn’t lose the remainder of his money. But the new place had cost twice as much, and soon she was dipping into her retirement funds to pay the hefty monthly fees.

That ran out fast too, so she’d “borrowed” enough to fund her father’s stay. However, the easy money had enticed her take a little bit more to replace the retirement account money until, at the time of his death eighteen years ago, she had embezzled nearly a quarter of a million dollars. A life insurance policy she hadn’t realized her father had taken out replaced $150,000 of that amount, with her working overtime to return the remaining $100,000. Her husband thought the extra hours were her way of coping with her father’s death and hadn’t asked too many questions.

She still hadn’t told him she couldn’t retire as planned, given how depleted her own 401(k) was. And now this. She rubbed her head and started the vehicle. She had less than a week to figure out how to uncover more details about the secret project. Even if she could get in, how on earth would she know what to snap pics of?

As she headed for home, she discarded scenario after scenario until she finally had a possible solution. She would go in on the weekend and sweet-talk her way into the room by saying Ryan needed something ASAP. Yes, that might work. Ryan always golfed with three friends Saturday with a standing 2 p.m. tee time. He also kept his phone on silent during the outings, berating any staffer who tried to contact him during his golf game.

Now that she had a plan for how to get into the room, all she had to do was come up with a solution to keep her visit a secret. She had no intention of becoming a scapegoat for her unknown tormentor. She parked in the driveway, mentally noting Anderson had yet to clean out the garage as he’d promised. Maybe she could suggest he tackle it on Saturday while she nipped out ostensibly to the store but really to work. That would occupy him enough that he wouldn’t notice how long she’d be gone.

With the first phase of her plan in place, she pasted a smile on her face and greeted her husband. After kissing his cheek, Mae caught the scent of oregano and garlic. “Something smells good in here.”

“I made my favorite girl my famous spaghetti and meatballs.” He guided her into the living room. “You put your feet up while I get you a glass of wine. You’ve been working way too hard. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

She caught his hand in hers. “You take such good care of me.”

He dropped a kiss onto her head. “You deserve a little pampering.”

No, she didn’t, but with luck, he would never find out what she’d done to ensure their lifestyle didn’t have any major roadblocks along the way.