Above Temptation Read online

  Kip wasn’t sure how to handle this summation of her life. She tried to sound confident as she said, “I hope I’ve lived up to the expectations of the firm.”

  Her lips twitched again—not quite a smile. “If you hadn’t you’d be gone.”

  She felt herself flush again but said nothing. She’d only stated the obvious, but apparently making her feel stupid was the game they were playing.

  After a moment, Sterling closed the file and leaned back in her chair. Long fingers tapped the folder idly. “I’m hiring you as a consultant.”

  Kip kept her expression blank, as if her boss’s boss’s boss gave her assignments every day. She straightened. “I don’t understand.”

  “I want you to do for me what you did on the McMillan case. Woo’s report said that while he took the lead, you were the backbone of the investigation team. Reading the appraisal closely I can see that Woo’s been dragging his heels on your next promotion because he doesn’t want to lose you from his team.”

  Kip took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The McMillan investigation had been a guarded, secret commission from the chairman of the board who had suspected that a top executive was embezzling. Discovering the embezzlement had been easy. Figuring out how it was being done had been difficult. Finding where the money had gone and recovering it had been a grueling, nerve-wracking challenge. Ultimately, they’d recovered all but a fraction of the funds, then prepared the documentation for the eventual prosecution of the director of finance.

  Kip said carefully, “You want me to investigate embezzlement at SFI? In secrecy and potentially involving one of your direct reports? And you can’t ask Woo or Daniels because the guilty party might notice?”

  She nodded gravely. “I need you because you’re still a low profile. Someone is siphoning cash out of SFI bank accounts. You can start with these.” She tossed a stack of papers in her direction.

  Kip had examined thousands of bank reconciliations in her years with SFI and the Justice Department. Even in the digital age, bank statements were tick marked by real people for key balances, an essential check against error and fraud. She flipped through the pages and saw the telltale signs of alterations. It was a very good job, though. “How much is missing?”

  “Half a million that I’ve discovered so far. I haven’t started looking where the real money is. Someone would notice if I did.”

  Kip arched an eyebrow. “The trust accounts?”

  She got a nod in response. “I was ambivalent about offering the service to clients from the beginning, and this was one of the reasons why.”

  “We take every precaution,” Kip said. “Loss of a client’s money would be devastating. It would literally shatter our reputation.”

  The look she got said she had just stated the obvious again.

  Fighting down another flush, Kip changed direction. “I understand why you’re asking me. Whoever is doing this might be on the lookout for you or one of the top investigators. But they won’t be looking for someone like me. How do you know you can trust me?”

  “Because of the Prudential case. If you were susceptible to bribery I think you would have taken the three hundred thousand they offered you. You have no offspring yearning to go to Ivy League schools. You’re driving a six-year-old car and you live in a very modest condo. No untoward debts, no unexplained riches.”

  Sterling had clearly done a cursory background check. Kip tried not to resent the intrusion; it came with the territory. “The condo is modest, maybe, but it cost plenty. Seattle’s real estate was through the roof when I bought it.” Kip didn’t mention the cabin, which she’d been able to buy last year, using her savings and the bonus from the Big Blue case. Nobody knew about the cabin.

  “I don’t know why you left the government and moved out of D.C., but if the Secret Service brought you in for full training, you must have been screened thoroughly. Though I can’t see you as one of those guys that runs alongside the limousine.” The gray gaze flicked down Kip’s body, then back to her face. It was an impersonal glance, but she knew what Sterling was thinking—she was small for that kind of work. As often as she bemoaned her petite height she was thankful for it. People tended to underestimate small women, a bias she had used to her advantage more than once.

  “My ultimate role was going to be advance fieldwork. Investigating the financial status of potential hosts. I was also doing financial investigation of hosts.” She saw no reason to tell Sterling that she’d met all the physical requirements, including marksmanship. She wasn’t going to explain about the simulators either.

  “Their loss was our gain.”

  Though she found it quite fulfilling chasing white-collar criminals—and there had been so many of them the last several years—she still felt the sting of the failure to serve and protect. As her father routinely sneered, she was the reincarnation of her grandfather.

  “And you have no intention of telling me why you left.”

  It was a statement of fact, so Kip said nothing. The last thing she would do was inform the head of the company why she had been allowed to resign from the Secret Service.

  Sterling’s vexed sigh was brief, but heartfelt. “There are a few other conditions you should know about before you say yes.”

  “And they are?”

  “You’ll have to carry this in addition to your other duties. Woo can’t know you’re working on something else. I want quick results. If this account is missing a half million, there might be more and whoever it is could be preparing to leave the country and we won’t recover a cent. I want the funds back.”

  “I’ll do my best.” She said it with all sincerity and the quick nod said she was understood—they had made a pact. At SFI they took agreements very, very seriously. “My resources and investigative reach will be limited if I can’t have authorized access to certain kinds of files, however. It will take me longer than a team.”

  “I understand. Even if all you can do is ETO, it will be a good start. If a senior officer is involved our fidelity bond won’t cover the losses, so I’m anxious to know if it’s any of them.”

  Eliminating the Obvious was always the first and easiest step. Kip nodded again.

  “Thank you,” Sterling said quietly. “After this meeting we shouldn’t see each other at the office. If you need to talk to me, leave a message on my private voice mail.” She pushed a business card toward her.

  “Of course.” As she tucked the card in her pocket, she noted the home address and private phone numbers written in standard SFI lettering script.

  “I also have a lot of materials to give you. I thought I could do this on my own, but I am traveling too much to do an effective job.”

  “How can I get them from you?”

  “I have to be on a plane out of SeaTac at ten. An appointment in New York came out of the blue, and that’s when I realized I needed help. Can you come by my home around eight thirty? I’m on the Hill.”

  “Eight thirty will work.” So much for a leisurely birthday dinner with Jen, Luke and their pals. She could hear the conversation already over birthday cake. Her friends were all starting to sound like her ex.

  “Good.” Sterling’s tone indicated their meeting was over. Kip took the bank statements she’d been given and stood up.

  Tamara Sterling rose as well, and came around her desk to shake hands. Her touch was cool. “I think I’ve made the right decision.”

  It was Kip’s turn to twitch her lips. “It’s an SFI motto—hire the best.”

  “You’re not the most modest of people,” she said, but for the first time the smile seemed genuine.

  Kip arched her eyebrows. “People tend to praise modesty, then overlook you.”

  She turned to go and could feel the gaze on her back as she walked to the office door. When she got there she turned to salute smartly and made what she hoped was a dignified exit.

  Sterling’s assistant was still not at her desk, and Kip wondered if the formidable Mercedes Houston was elsewhere
so Kip wouldn’t be seen coming and going. Probably. A successful investigation was conducted in the utmost secrecy, not that anyone would get anything out of Mercedes Houston. People had tried. They had always failed. Mercedes’ considerable wit was company legend. Her boss had It’s a law of physics—your foot will always fit in your mouth tacked to his office wall.

  The office door opened just as she reached it. She stepped back to let in the lanky, sandy-haired man. She recognized him immediately and turned the bank reconciliations so the faces were hidden against her chest.

  “The old girl in?” He smiled at her with boyish charm. Ted Langhorn was Director of Client Relations and Tamara Sterling’s longtime friend. And a suspect until she cleared him. “Where’s Mercedes? Are you temping for her?”

  Kip was mildly irritated by the question, and peeved by Langhorn’s disrespectful use of “old girl” to describe the CEO. He might say it to Sterling’s face, but Kip was a subordinate. He’d always struck her as a glib deal-broker. Essential, but incapable of doing the work he was selling to clients.

  “Ms. Sterling is in. I was just dropping off something. And picking up.” She indicated the stack of papers she was clutching against her stomach.

  “Oh, sorry. Don’t I know you? You did that Big Blue investigation last year didn’t you? Barrett, right? Great work. Clients mention it all the time.”

  Kip nodded, sorry she hadn’t been out of Sterling’s office thirty seconds earlier. Besides, she thought she’d been over-praised for that case. Fourteen million dollars was a lot of money, to be sure. But it had been stolen by a clumsy cocaine addict who had drawn a lot of attention to himself with conspicuous spending. He’d even ordered tickets to Brazil in his own name with his company credit card. Kip had seen the transaction on their tap of his credit card records just a few moments after he’d made it. The companion programmer working with her had laughed out loud. Stupid criminals made life easy.

  It had felt good, arriving at the idiot’s office with two agents. They’d done the arresting, and she’d pointed out the evidence they would need to take, including the laptop. That afternoon she’d helped the Fed’s forensic accountant hack into the guy’s system, though “hacking” didn’t really apply when she’d suggested they try his middle name for his password and had been right. Local law enforcement had been delighted to receive the names and phone numbers of several cocaine suppliers. Yes, that had felt good, even the tedious preparation for her own testimony. It had been too long since she’d had a moment quite so fulfilling.

  Tamara Sterling’s office door opened abruptly. “Thought I heard voices. Come on in, Ted.” Looking at Kip, she added, “Glad I was able to catch you. There’s one more folder for Woo.” She looked annoyed that Kip had forgotten something.

  Turning back to Ted, she said, “How’d you make out in New York? Oh, and the Seahawks lost a squeaker while you were gone.” She waved vaguely at Kip as though she’d already forgotten her existence. Kip made a speedy exit.

  “Don’t tell me about the Seahawks,” Ted was saying as the door closed. “They were supposed to beat the spread…”

  In the elevator she looked into the folder she’d been given. A dozen blank sheets of paper. That meant Sterling had waited to find out if Kip was going to be seen leaving. Since Sterling had misled Ted Langhorn about Kip’s reason for being there, it meant that she hadn’t dismissed Ted as a suspect.

  She sat at her desk in a daze, overwhelmed. Her cubicle neighbors were tapping out another homage to the Kit Kat bar. She had to get away this weekend. Everyone, even her, had their limits. She’d been working weekends for so long she wasn’t sure what day of the week it was unless she checked her Palm Pilot.

  * * *

  She hunkered down over her work for another hour, carefully double-checking everything because she was so tired. The papers Sterling had given her were tucked into her satchel, out of sight, but to her they were glowing like neon. When the clock told her she had to leave right then or completely miss Jen’s birthday party she packed up her running shoes, coffee travel mug, paperback she’d been trying to finish for two months and a half of a banana that was probably going to be her dinner.

  Cafe C’est Bon had been chosen by the birthday girl for the crepes, and by the time Kip pulled into the parking lot she was sure that dessert was already flambéed and served. She could linger for thirty minutes. The only break she was catching was that C’est Bon was most of the way to the Queen Anne Hill address Sterling had given her.

  On the walk from the parking lot she spied Jen at a table for seven. The chair to Jen’s left was conspicuously empty. Jen had cut her long, blond hair—it only brushed her shoulders now. Her boyfriend, Luke, was in his usual black tie on a black shirt, but instead of the customary glower that Kip was used to seeing he was laughing at something Jen had just said.

  She threaded her way through the crowded cafe and slid into the empty chair after dropping a kiss onto Jen’s forehead. If she had a best friend, Jen was it. “Sorry—work, as usual.”

  “It’s always work with you,” Jen muttered. Her schoolteacher you-flunked face was in full evidence.

  “It’s a living,” Kip answered, hoping to change the subject. It was also a calling, something that nobody ever seemed to understand. Certainly not Meena, whose parting words had been, “I moved out two weeks ago and you just noticed.”

  “Tell us about it,” Luke said, tossing a little kindling on the emotional fire. “We’ve already ordered dessert.”

  “I’d be honored if Jen would let me have a taste of whatever she ordered,” Kip said, trying hard to smile. “I don’t deserve more. But if there’s coffee I’d kill for some.” The last she directed to the hovering waiter, who nodded and sped away.

  “A new, important case?” Luke was smiling in that not-a-clue-why-my-girlfriend-tolerates-you way. Kip understood why Jen found him attractive, but the charm of the carefully trimmed beard and moody brown eyes was lost on her. He waited tables to support his career as a bass guitarist in a Goth band, which was fine by Kip except, near as she could tell, the band hadn’t gigged in a year. Thirty-something was a little old not to have any kind of plan for the next six decades. Jen deserved better, and she was pretty sure Luke felt the same way about her as Jen’s friend.

  Before she could answer, Luke added, “Oh, I forgot. You can’t say.”

  “That’s right,” Kip said brightly. She glanced at Jen and Luke’s other friends—two more couples she had met several times and whose names escaped her. They were politely ignoring the undercurrents. She knew Luke had some justification for his feelings. If the other couples had been clients or suspects, she’d remember every last detail. She might not be a bad person, but she was pretty much a bad friend these days.

  However, she had her good moments, and hoped this was one of them. Pulling the small wrapped box out of her satchel, she set it next to Jen’s plate. “Happy birthday.”

  The crease between Jen’s eyebrows disappeared. They’d been friends since the fifth grade, ever since they’d compared notes and discovered they were both Libras and Jen was only six days older. Jen was the only person outside immediate family who’d met her grandfather. She came closest to understanding why Kip was the way she was. She tapped the bedraggled wrapping paper and ribbon. “How long have you had this?”

  “I saw it in a shop window when I was in Munich about five months ago. They wrapped it for me, or else it would be—”

  “Wrapped in the funny pages or aluminum foil.” Jen laughed. “I know it’s not easy—thanks for making time tonight.”

  Luke’s sigh was loud, but fortunately lost in the shredding of the paper. Jen’s puzzlement was obvious as she considered the drawing on the outside of the box. She was probably thinking “A miniature china figurine? Me?”

  She popped open the box with a smile, though, and pulled out the contents. When the cardboard and bubble wrap finally parted she let out a stunned gasp. “That’s amazing. Wow.”

&n
bsp; She held it up on the palm of her hand so the others could see.

  Kip knew she would likely never care much for Luke, but he earned points by saying to Jen, “It’s the spitting image of your mom and the cat in your baby pictures!”

  “Mr. Peeps,” Jen said. “And my mom wore an apron and a blue blouse all the time.”

  “Can I see it?” One of the other friends held out a hand and Jen passed it along.

  If it bothered Luke right then that Kip knew so much about Jen’s past, it didn’t show. She got a look that said she might be tolerated a little longer along with an ungrudging, “What a great find.”

  “It was total chance. The first time I went over to Jen’s house her mom was sitting at the window with the cat on her lap—just like that. Her hair was exactly that light shade of blond, too.”

  “It was before how sick she was really started to show, but…” Jen swallowed. “She was melancholy sometimes, just wanted to sit and think. It’s beautiful, Kip.”

  “Then she made us cookies. Sugar cookies with bits of Hot Tamales. Best cookies I ever had.”

  “They were the first cookies you ever had.” Jen took the figurine back and gazed at it one more time. “Your mom was such a food Nazi.”

  “True, but remember how much my grandma spoiled me to make up for bulgar and wheat germ salad? Your mom was a great cook too,” Kip said. She patted Jen’s hand and Jen squeezed back. They didn’t have to say aloud that the last cookies Jen’s mom had made them had been the day before she’d collapsed and died at home, her bad heart finally giving out. Kip was glad that Jen’s own heart was healthy and strong. It had been only another month before Kip’s grandfather had also died after a heart attack. There were reasons they were still friends, twenty-odd years later.

  Luke didn’t miss the silent exchange and was frowning. Nothing Kip could do about that, so she sipped the wonderful, fresh, fragrant, caffeine-infused coffee and joined the conversation as best she could. Jen did let her have a couple of bites of her vanilla gelato and toasted walnut caramel crepe. For a few scant minutes, life was relaxed and easy.