Suspicions: A Twist Of Fate / Tears Of Pride. Lisa Jackson
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As quickly as possible she scooped up the paper, grabbed her purse and slipped on her coat. She took the steps two at a time and nearly ran over Mrs. Cavenaugh on her way out the door. On the run, she apologized to the startled old woman and hurried out to the car. She turned the ignition, the little car sparked to life and Erin proceeded on a mad dash to the bank, hampered only by the early-morning rush-hour traffic.
When she got to the bank, it was already crawling with employees. Although it was still early, it seemed that everyone had arrived with time to spare on this first day of new bank ownership. Erin pushed herself into the crowded elevator and wedged herself between two women.
“Have you seen the paper today?” a middle-aged woman with a faddish, curly hairstyle asked her friend.
“Not yet—I usually wait until coffee break. There’s just not enough time in the morning, what with getting the kids off to school, you know,” the shorter woman in a pink raincoat replied.
The elevator started its upward motion. “Then you haven’t heard about Mitchell Cameron?” the curly-haired woman asked.
“Cameron? The head of the legal department?”
“That’s right. Seems that the new president—that Mr. Webster—had him fired.”
“No!”
“That’s right,” the taller woman said with a firm shake of her head. Her voice lowered, and she looked over her shoulder as she continued. “They suspect that Mr. Cameron was involved in some embezzling scheme…”
“The head of the legal department? Are you sure?”
Erin pretended not to hear the conversation. The elevator stopped on the seventeenth floor and the two women continued their conversation as they disembarked. Erin closed her eyes for a minute. By this time the entire bank staff had heard about Mitch. Could it possibly be true? She fervently hoped that Kane was wrong about Mitch.
The elevator stopped with a jolt, and Erin walked into the legal department. She was early, and only a few of the more aggressive young employees had made it to their desks. There were a few new faces in the crowd, probably some of Kane’s imported troubleshooters from California, Erin guessed as she passed by the reception area and picked up her telephone messages. The most compelling of the notes was a handwritten memo from Kane indicating that he wanted to see her in his office immediately.
After taking off her coat, she armed herself with the newspaper and marched into his office. An eerie, nostalgic feeling gripped her when she discovered that the familiar brass nameplate of Mitchell Cameron had been torn from the door. Only two fine drill holes remained in the wood panels to remind Erin that just last week Mitch had occupied this office.
Kane was sitting behind the desk when she entered. He motioned her to be seated in one of the side chairs as he finished scribbling some notes on a legal pad. But instead, she remained standing with her arms folded against her chest. The rolled newspaper was clamped firmly under her left arm.
“Have you seen the paper?” she asked him, echoing the conversation she had overhead in the elevator.
“Yes,” he replied, looking up from his work.
“And you read the article on Mitch?” she accused.
“I’ve read several, starting last evening,” he replied evenly. His eyes searched her face and he studied her intensely.
“Is it true?” she asked, her incredulity registering on her face. “Did Mitch really embezzle? How do you know—and why did you let the press find out about it? Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve ruined his career. He worked for this bank for over twenty years, and in one clean sweep you destroyed him!”
Her voice had risen with her emotion. She flung the paper onto his desk and turned her head away, biting on her fingernail and trying to piece together her shattered poise. Kane rose from the desk and crossed the room to close the door. He came back beside her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Gently he rubbed the tension out of her neck and shoulders.
“Don’t,” she implored. “Don’t touch me—just give me answers, preferably straight ones!”
His fingers stopped their comforting motion but remained against the back of her neck. Her hair was pinned into a businesslike knot, twisted behind one ear, and Kane rested his hands on her exposed neck. Her head was bent, and she pressed a hand to her forehead as she waited for his explanation.
His voice was low and soft as he began to speak. “You’ve met my associate, Jim Haney?” His fingers felt the barest of movements as she nodded. “During the conversion, while Jim was still working here in Seattle, he…discovered that funds were being funneled out of some of the larger trust accounts. It took Jim quite a while, but finally he tracked down the culprit.”
“Mitch?” she asked in a voice that was barely audible.
“Yes.”
“But…how can you be sure?” She pivoted her head upward to find his face, and there was an unhidden pain in the depths of her eyes.
“Erin. We caught him red-handed. There’s no doubt.” The words were spoken softly, but there was an almost cruel hardness in his features.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she forced them backward and vainly attempted to keep her voice from shaking. “I…I just can’t believe it.” She averted her face from his intent study.
Kane propped her chin between his fingers and let his thumb rub it caressingly while tracing the line of her jaw. “You were very close to him?” he asked gently.
Erin shook her head faintly and bit her lip. “He’s been a good friend to me.” Her eyes were shining with unshed tears when she looked up at Kane’s face once more. “He…he helped me through a very difficult time in my life…” she explained, and gave in to the urge to lean against him. His arm wrapped securely around her, and for a moment Erin forgot everything other than Kane’s comforting presence. This couldn’t be the same coldhearted man who had fired Mitch, could it? Had Mitch really stooped to thievery?
“The difficult time,” he whispered. “The divorce?”
She nodded mutely against the smooth fabric of his jacket.
A knock resounded on the thick mahogany door, and before Kane could respond, the door swung open. Olivia Parsons, with all of her self-assurance and poise in place, breezed into the room with only a brief apology.
“Excuse me, Mr. Webster…Erin.” She included Erin out of courtesy. Her cool green eyes swept over the intimate scene before her, and although they reflected a glimmer of interest, her professional aplomb never wavered. Erin moved away from Kane with as much grace as was possible, but she was sure that Olivia hadn’t missed the tender embrace between employer and employee. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but your secretary indicated that you needed these financial statements before the board meeting this afternoon.” The tall brunette with the svelte figure and sleek Halston original dress handed Kane the stack of papers that she was carrying. The confident smile that she was wearing never left her face.
“You must be Miss Parsons,” Kane surmised, his eyes traveling appreciatively over the neatly typed pages.
“Please call me Olivia,” she responded. She gave Erin a fleeting head-to-toe appraisal, as if seeing her for the first time. Turning back to Kane, she continued. “I really didn’t know that you were busy,” she apologized again, and Erin felt a tide of crimson creep steadily up her neck.
“No problem,” Kane assured Olivia, and escorted her out of the room. “Thank you for taking the time to bring the reports by.”
“Anytime,” Olivia suggested in a voice so throaty that Erin barely heard it.
Once Olivia had made her exit, Kane closed the door and deliberately turned to face Erin. His back was pressed firmly against the polished wood grain of the door, as if he were using his own body