Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

A cross the street from Dolores Green’s modest brick home in south Arlington, Jetta wedged her vehicle between a pickup truck and an older model sedan. She winced afresh at the dented and mangled rear bumper now bungee-corded in place. She needed to get it fixed but hadn’t had time to figure out where to take it. Maybe Seth would have advice.

The man uppermost in her thoughts exited his vehicle and joined her on the sidewalk in front of the Green residence. When he’d texted her about his idea to drop by unannounced, she built all sorts of scenarios about the woman who had implicated her father in the embezzlement scheme, painting her like some femme fatale of 1940s noir films.

Now surveying the flower beds that lined the walkway to the home, a surge of pity batted away those images as she noted signs of neglect. Paint peeled from the shutters framing two windows while the concrete stoop crumbled at the edges as if too tired to hold itself together anymore. It was also one of the few original homes left intact on the street. On either side, larger, more modern houses had probably replaced similar 1950s abodes.

“It always saddens me to see neighborhoods turn over because so many times, it means tearing down the old and building the new.” She’d seen the same kind of changes in her mother’s neighborhood and wondered if whoever bought her childhood home would tear it down to start again.

“Sometimes the old needs to be torn down and rebuilt into something new.” The bitterness behind the statement surprised her, but he changed the subject before she could delve deeper into what he meant. “How do you want to play this?”

“Maybe you should take the lead.” Although she had taken a short nap after Melender left, she still wasn’t feeling herself.

He nodded, then knocked on the door. Jetta stood on the walkway below the one step leading to the stoop.

An older woman wearing stretchy pants and a flowery top stood to the left of the now-open door. “If you’re selling, I’m not buying.”

“We’re not selling, Ms. Green.” Seth’s easy reply did little to eliminate the suspicion hovering in her eyes.

“How do you know my name?” Dolores swiveled her gaze from one to the other.

“Ms. Green, I’m Seth Whitman, and this is Jetta Ainsley. We’re hoping you could help us.”

“With what?” She planted a hand on an ample hip and narrowed her eyes. “I haven’t got all day, so spit it out.” Her annoyance played a band concert of discordant sounds.

“Ms. Ainsley’s father, Jay Ainsley, worked for Topher Robotics. He was accused of embezzling a lot of money, but he died before he could prove his innocence.” Seth let the statement hang in the air like a basketball player going for a slam dunk.

Jetta watched as emotions she couldn’t identify flashed across the older woman’s face.

For a moment, Dolores didn’t respond, then she huffed a sigh. “You’d better come in.”

Jetta entered, Seth at her heels, as Dolores led them into a living room crammed with knickknacks on every available surface. Upon closer inspection, the glass and ceramic figurines appeared to all be dogs. She didn’t know how the woman lived in such a cramped space, but Dolores didn’t seem to mind. Their hostess crossed her arms, her stance radiating distrust and tension.

Seth pointed to an amateurish watercolor still life of a body of water with what Jetta supposed was a duck floating on the surface hanging above the mantel. “That’s Burke Lake, isn’t it?”

Dolores uncrossed her arms. “Yes, my grandson painted that for my birthday years ago.”

“How old was he?”

“Ten.”

“Impressive that he could capture the essence of the lake at such a young age.” Seth sounded genuinely impressed.

“That’s why I display it.” Dolores joined him in front of the painting. “He’s now studying art at the Pratt Institute in New York. He’s given me better paintings, but this was his first watercolor. Every time he visits, he begs me to replace it with a more recent, better executed painting, but I enjoy gazing at the potential you can see in his brush strokes than his later polished pieces.” Some of the stiffness eased from her shoulders. “Have a seat and tell me why you think I can help you.”

Seth and Jetta both took the couch while Dolores choose a well-worn easy chair.

“Mrs. Green,” he began.

“Please, call me Dolores.”

“Dolores,” he started again, “as I mentioned, we’re looking into the embezzlement charges levied against her late father.”

Dolores held up her hand. “And you discovered an anomaly with some of the invoices from SafeSense that were attributed to me.”

“That’s correct.”

Jetta repeated to herself she would trust Seth knew what he was doing, allowing the silence to grow rather than filling it with the evidence they had about the fake invoices.

“I couldn’t believe it when Mr. Reinhardt called me into his office and accused me of tampering with invoices.” The older woman’s voice hitched. “I had no idea what he was talking about, but he showed me the invoices I had sent to Topher Robotics.”

“They had been altered after you’d sent them?” Seth’s voice had a gentle tone at odds with his beefy physique.

Jetta admired him for not throwing his weight around to intimate the other woman to get what he wanted.

“They must have been as I didn’t change the amounts.” Dolores dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, alerting Jetta to how troubled the older woman was about the invoices. “I tried to tell Mr. Reinhardt I wouldn’t do something like that, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“We believe you didn’t have anything to do with the altered invoices.”

Jetta shot Seth a glance, but his attention remained fixed on Dolores. The woman could be upset merely because she’d gotten caught.

“You do?” The older woman deflated as if someone had let the air out of her. Her hand fluttered to her chest, resting there for several seconds.

“Yes, we think you were targeted much like Jetta’s father was.” The conviction in Seth’s voice told Jetta he was convinced of Dolores’ innocence.

“But why would someone do such a thing?” Dolores swung her gaze from Seth to Jetta, then back to Seth.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Seth opened a notebook, poising his pen above a blank page. “Would you walk us through exactly what happened?”

Dolores straightened with a decisive nod, her attitude a complete one-eighty from her earlier demeanor. “The thing is, I brought one of the altered invoices to the attention of my supervisor a few weeks before Mr. Reinhardt accused me of stealing money.”

“What did your supervisor say?”

“That she would check into it. I forgot about it until that meeting with Mr. Reinhardt.” Dolores shuddered. “It was awful. When I arrived at work, I couldn’t log onto my computer, but before I could call tech support, Mr. Reinhardt’s admin called me into the meeting.”

“Who was there?” Seth inquired as he wrote down the details.

In spite of her skepticism, Jetta found herself drawn into Dolores’s story.

“Mr. Reinhardt, who was the head of accounting, and my immediate supervisor, Fiona Everly.”

“The one you’d told about the invoice?” Seth clarified.

“Yes.” Dolores firmed her lips as if stopping more words from spilling out. She appeared to be fighting for composure with deep breaths and rapid eye blinks. Then she continued, her voice not as steady as before. “I still didn’t suspect anything until Fiona laid out a stack of invoices for Topher Robotics with the one I had brought to her attention on top. She then asked me to explain why I had been changing the invoice amounts and where the extra money had gone.”

As Dolores explained how the duo had harangued her to confess what she’d done with the money and why she had committed fraud, Jetta saw similarities between Dolores’s story and her father’s. According to her mother, Ryan Topher had engineered a meeting with his two siblings and Dad, laying out the embezzlement charges and requesting Dad’s cooperation in returning the money.

“Mr. Reinhardt even had statements from a bank account in the Cayman Islands in my name showing I had deposited several thousand dollars that corresponded with two of the invoices.” Dolores shook her head. “No matter what I said, no one would believe that I hadn’t done this.”

“How did things end?”

Again, Jetta was struck by the empathy in Seth’s tone and posture.

“They decided they wouldn’t prosecute me if I agreed to resign and pay back the money they said I took.” The bitterness in Dolores’s voice told Jetta what she thought of that deal. “I’d worked for SafeSense for twenty-five years, and they threw me out like garbage.”

“I’m guessing you took the deal.” Seth closed his notebook.

“I had no choice, not when they threatened me with prison if I didn’t.” She sighed. “I wanted to call their bluff and insist on a full investigation, but I had no resources to fight them. I did call a couple of law firms and see if someone would take my case pro bono, but no one would.” She crossed to an old-fashioned secretary and lowered the lid. She removed a brown envelope similar to the one Jetta’s mother had received.

“Here.” Dolores thrust the envelope at Seth. “This is the agreement they forced me to sign. They wouldn’t broadcast what I had done, but they would if I ever worked in an accounting position again.”

Seth extracted the papers and Jetta leaned closer to read, smelling the cedar and soap combination she now associated with him. She skimmed the legalese until she came to the amount Dolores had been accused of stealing. “Eighty-seven thousand dollars.”

Dolores twisted her fingers together on her lap. “I’ve worked two retail jobs—the only work I could get outside accounting—for the past fifteen years and still owe more than $25,000. But as the agreement states, as long as I pay something each month, I’m safe from prosecution.”

“You’ve thought about not paying?” Seth asked.

“I’ve been too afraid to see what would happen, but yes, I have thought of it. Talking about it with you has made me realize the only proof they had was the bank account in my name and the altered invoices.”

“The bank account could have been opened by anyone with your information, and just because you handled the Topher Robotics account doesn’t mean you were the only person with access to the invoices.”

Dolores relaxed her hands at Seth’s statement. “Exactly. In fact, I heard that Fiona left SafeSense to work for Topher Robotics a few months after I was let go.”

“Do you know if she’s still there?” Seth reopened his notebook and jotted a note.

“According to the company website, she’s now the head of accounting, answering to Gene Topher.”

Jetta found that very interesting. Something worth following up. Seth thanked Dolores for her time, and the woman walked them to the door.

“You’ll let me know what you find out, won’t you?” The hope in Dolores’s eyes mirrored Jetta’s own.

She touched the other woman’s hand. “We will.”

Back on the sidewalk, she turned to Seth. “You think Fiona altered the invoices and blamed Dolores for it?”

“That’s one possibility.” Seth put the reporter’s notebook into his back pocket. “The other is Fiona knew who at Topher Robotics altered the invoices and decided to jump ship to cash in on that knowledge.”

A sharp crack sliced through the end of his sentence. Jetta screamed as a second bullet tossed a chunk of concrete into the air. Someone was shooting at them.

* * *

Seth pushed Jetta to the ground, covering her body with his as gunfire erupted around them. Dirt, grass, and bits of concrete flew up at them as the hail of bullets continued for what seemed like minutes, but he knew would only be seconds. Then the squeal of tires and the roar of an engine replaced the shots, leaving behind the acrid scent of smoke and gunpowder in his nostrils. An all-too familiar smell, but he didn’t have time to dwell on those horrific images, not when he needed to make sure Jetta was unharmed.

He lifted himself on his elbows to gauge whether it was safe to rise.

“Are they gone?” Jetta’s voice quavered.

“Maybe.” Her face, streaked with dirt and blood, made him gasp. “You’re hurt.” He touched her cheek where the blood streamed from a cut, alarm reigniting the adrenaline. “Are you shot?”

“I don’t think so.” She twisted as if to check herself. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.” Anger that someone had taken potshots at them burned deep in his belly.

“I’ve called 911.” Dolores stepped off the sidewalk. “I know this isn’t the same neighborhood I grew up in, but we’ve never had a shooting in broad daylight.”

Jetta rolled to a seated position.

“Oh, you poor dear. Come inside to wait for the ambulance. Is your baby okay?” Dolores fluttered her hands.

“I’ll sit on the step.” Jetta sent him a look he interpreted as needing his help, and he leaned down to assist her to her feet. Her body, with its distended belly, pressed against his side.

With the utmost care, he assisted her to the top step leading to the sidewalk. “Here you go.” He looked over his shoulder at Dolores. “Would you bring Jetta a glass of water?”

“Of course.” Dolores disappeared inside the house as sirens rent the air, sounding close.

Bits of grass tangled with Jetta’s strawberry blonde hair, and she had a few cuts on her arms and one on her cheek from flying debris, but thank God she appeared otherwise unharmed. He couldn’t live with himself if he hadn’t been able to protect her. Her arms crossed across her stomach, drawing his attention to her midsection. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, just shaken.” Her sharp tone almost made him smile. “I’ve had a rough day.”

“That you have,” he agreed, his tone mild. “But maybe you should get checked out by your doctor to make sure the baby’s okay.”

“I said I’m fine.” The glare she sent him could have curdled milk, but he couldn’t help the worry nibbling at his mind like a mouse with a hunk of cheese. A flash of memory pummeled his mind. His mother, holding her middle as blood pooled at her feet, her eyes begging him for help he couldn’t give. His seven-year-old self scrubbing the evidence from the bathroom floor. The baby sister he never got to hold.

“Seth?” Concern knitted her brow, her lovely blue eyes pools of worry. “I’m really okay, and so is my baby. See?”

He dragged himself from the memory pit that threatened to swallow him whole and cleared his throat as she reached for his hand and pressed it to her stomach. A firm kick from the baby startled him, followed immediately by what felt like a punch. His eyes widened.

She laughed, leaning closer to him with her hand still on his resting on her belly. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“It is.” The baby kicked again, bringing a grin to his face.

Jetta moved her hand from his and touched his cheek, her fingers lightly caressing the smoother part of his face.

Seth sucked in a breath, his chest tightening as her hand cupped his jaw. The desire to kiss her made him drop his eyes from her face to her mouth. His breath whooshed out as she raised her lips and touched his own.

The shock of Jetta’s mouth against his reverberated through Seth’s body. The very action he’d only dared think about was happening. The softness of her lips, the feel of her body resting lightly against his, spiraled through him. His very first kiss wasn’t at all what he’d expected. It was so much more. His internal body temperature shot up so fast, he groaned against her lips. A warning bell chimed incessantly in his mind, and somehow, he managed to heed its call. Breaking off the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Oh, my.” Dolores’s voice doused him with cold water. “I, um, brought Jetta’s water.”

“Thank you.” Jetta moved away from Seth, accepting the glass with a smile while Seth could barely catch his breath.

His first kiss had been everything and nothing he’d ever imagined. Despite Dolores hovering behind them, he had to tell her so. “I never imagined my first kiss to be so wonderful.”

“Your first kiss?” Her jaw dropped, then snapped close.

“Yep.” He leaned back on his hands, trying to project confidence with the statement. “I’ve never been kissed before in my life. Well, I don’t think I can count the pecks my mother or grandmother bestowed on me as kisses, right?”

“But you’re a good-looking guy.”

Good to know she thought so, but he merely shrugged. “Guess no one’s noticed until now.” He added a wink.

His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it from his back pocket, thankful their dive onto the ground hadn’t cracked the screen. Caller ID showed it was Fallon.

“My boss.” He answered the call as the sirens grew louder. “Yes, sir?”

“Where are you? You’re supposed to photograph the winners of the Meadowlark Gardens flower arrangement contest, but I got a call from the organizer to say you hadn’t arrived yet.”

Seth groaned. He’d forgotten about the assignment in his haste to visit Dolores Green. “I’m sorry. I’m in south Arlington and am not going to make it.”

A police car turned onto the street, sirens blaring.

“Is that sirens I hear? What’s happening?” Fallon clipped out the questions in his trademark staccato.

Seth gave his boss a quick overview, adding he needed to go as an ambulance arrived, followed by more police vehicles. His boss harumphed once, then snapped, “You’d better be in my office as soon as you’re able—with all the details on the shooting for Brogan to write up.”

Fallon hung up before Seth could agree. The next hour whizzed by as more officers and crime scene techs arrived, and Seth and Jetta gave statements to uniform police officers as to why they were at Dolores’s home. Dolores confirmed their story and plied the emergency responders with tea and homemade oatmeal cookies, which Seth found quite tasty. Dolores had finally convinced Jetta to return to the house, but Seth stayed outside to record the details for a potential story.

“Mr. Whitman?” A tall man, his jet-black hair worn short at the sides and longer on top, flashed a badge. “I’m Detective Oldfield. I know you’ve spoken to uniform about what happened, but I’d appreciate it if you would walk me through it as well.”

“Sure.” Seth complied.

Detective Oldfield lightly slapped his notebook against his leg. “This embezzlement happened fifteen years ago?”

“That’s right.”

“Dolores Green was involved how?”

Seth walked the detective through Dolores’s small part in the scheme. “She says she never altered any invoices but didn’t have the funds to fight SafeSense.”

Detective Oldfield made some additional notes. “She walked you two outside when you left?”

“No, we said goodbye at the door.” He rubbed the back of his neck as the terrifying memories of the bullets flying so close to them returned.

“Then someone started shooting.”

“That’s about the size of it.” Seth wasn’t sure what else to add, given he’d gone over this several times already with the first responding officers.

Detective Oldfield handed him a business card. “I’ll be in touch if I have any other questions.”

Seth texted Brogan with a few additional details he’d gleaned from the detective, then went to Dolores’s house to see if Jetta was ready to leave. They hadn’t had a chance to discuss the kiss, and he hoped she wasn’t regretting it. He most certainly was not.

“I think she might have fallen asleep on the couch,” Dolores said when he knocked on the door. She pointed to where Jetta sat on the sofa with her head resting against the back and her eyes closed.

“Thanks, I’ll wake her, since we can leave now.”

“I hope you can find out the truth after all these years.” Dolores’s earnest expression reminded him Jay’s wasn’t the only life upended by the embezzler.

“We’ll do our best.” He prayed God would use their best to uncover the truth as he entered the living room and sat down beside the woman he was falling in love with. For a moment, he allowed himself the privilege of watching her sleep, her features soft. His eyes dropped to her belly, love for the child—Jetta’s baby—swelling inside him. If she’d let him, he would love her and her baby for the rest of his life. “Jetta?”

She stirred but didn’t open her eyes. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, reveling in the smooth texture so unlike his own skin.

“Ummm.” Her eyelids fluttered, then sprang open, alarm widening the pupils.

“It’s okay. You fell asleep in Dolores’s living room.” He rubbed her arm as if soothing a startled animal.

“Why is this happening?” Her soft question, punctuated by a sob, tore through his heart.

“I don’t know. But you know who does?” He waited a beat before answering his own question. “God. He’s not surprised about any of this. It’s all part of his plan and for our good.”

“How could it be for our good? Someone is trying very hard to prevent us from finding the truth.” Anguish tinged her words.

“I don’t claim to fully understand these things, but if we can’t trust God has this—the entire world and everything in it—under his ultimate control, then we’re in a pickle.”

His word choice brought a faint smile to her lips. “A pickle, huh?”

“Definitely a pickle.” He nodded when what he wanted to do was cover her mouth with his to taste her sweetness again. But this wasn’t the time. Besides, before he kissed her a second time, he needed to make sure she didn’t regret the first kiss.

“Thanks.”

For a moment, their gazes held. Heat flickered in hers, igniting the flame in his own heart. Then she glanced away and brushed her hands together. “I need to go see my mom.”

The abrupt change in topic jarred him, but Seth tamped down his disappointment. “And my boss will want my photos of the shooting pronto.”

After thanking Dolores for her hospitality and promising to be in touch with any updates, he walked Jetta to her car. He opened her car door and waited until she slid behind the wheel. Then he gathered his courage and asked, “Shall I cook something for dinner tonight?”

For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, then she smiled. “That would be lovely. Text me the time, and I’ll be there.”

He agreed, then shut her door. He stood on the curb watching her drive away and take another little piece of his heart. He should be worried at giving her so much of that vital organ, but somehow, he couldn’t be bothered. As he climbed into his SUV and drove toward The Herald , he reflected how much he had grown to care for this intriguing woman. He only prayed their digging into the past would bring closure to her family—and not the end of their lives.