Campaign of Desire (CSA Case Files 4) (36 page)

“Ms. Dunaway, Timothy Mickel is here to see you.” Phoebe looked back towards her front door to see Timothy standing beside her shift agent, Jim, who had obviously been the one to knock. Timothy was shoving his glasses up his nose and looking perturbed. There was no doubt it was about having been announced as if he were some client, but it was something he’d have to get used to. It wasn’t like this would happen in the office of Crescent, but due to the unusual circumstances, he’d have to get over his feeling of being slighted. “Come in.”

“Hi, Timothy.” Phoebe motioned for him to go into the living room and he stepped over the threshold, ignoring Steve while holding up some files for her to see. She nodded and then looked at Kimmie and Austin. “Are you guys heading out or are you staying for a while?”

“It’s Friday,” Kimmie announced, as if that meant something. Phoebe tucked her hair behind her ears and waited for her sister to continue. “I have one week before finals start and I was hoping to stay here over the weekend. My building is one big party palace.”

“She’s right,” Austin agreed, leaning over and rubbing Kimmie’s shoulder. “The renters range from pre-graduates to post-graduates. We could stay at my place, but my roommate can be a little loud and downright filthy.”

“It’s no trouble,” Phoebe replied, seeing Timothy start spreading his files out on her coffee table. She’d better get this over with. “Why don’t you guys order a pizza? I think we’re going to need some food.”

Phoebe walked away while Kimmie and Austin argued over which pizza place they were going to order from and took a seat on the couch, opposite of Timothy who’d chosen the chair. He was stressed and she felt guilty for having left her post at Crescent for so long.

“How bad is it?” Phoebe asked, glad that she’d changed into a pair of jeans when she’d arrived home. She had on her favorite cream sweater with the cowl neck and the longer sleeves that almost covered the back of her hands, which she now stretched with her fingers to brace herself for what Timothy was about to say. It was obvious he knew something that she didn’t. “Nancy has sent me reports every Monday and there didn’t seem to be anything out of place. I spoke with our accountant and he said that things looked good from the perspective of where we thought we’d be at this point in our quarter. Yet you suggested we didn’t have the funds for our next mission and now Nancy has quit, which really frustrates me because she didn’t even have the decency to call me or give any kind of notice. What’s going on?”

“The reason the accountant thinks that we’re good on funds is because Nancy didn’t disclose a check she had you sign a few weeks ago, which hasn’t been cashed…yet.” Timothy tapped a pen on one of the folders. “It was for the medical supplies that we provided to a team in Somalia.”

“I remember signing off for it, but it was in the budget,” Phoebe argued, leaning forward for the file. Timothy handed it over and then sat back into the cushioned seat. “How would this have overextended us? I double checked the amount.”

“You wrote the same check a month ago.” Timothy reached into his pocket and removed a white handkerchief. He then proceeded to clean his glasses while speaking. “Nancy made a mistake on the estimates and didn’t think twice when she had you cut the second check. It wasn’t until I finally had time to review our files yesterday that I realized what had happened.”

Phoebe understood what he was saying and felt her stomach sink at a mistake that had ultimately been hers. She looked at the check written out last month and then looked at the one she’d signed approximately ten days ago. She hadn’t caught the duplicate because she’d been too preoccupied.

“I should have realized that I’d written the additional check,” Phoebe admitted, tucking the strands back that had fallen across her cheek as she reviewed the papers. It was pointless to give excuses for such a careless error. It wouldn’t change the outcome. Looking up, she saw anger written across Timothy’s features. Something had to change and she was the one that needed to fix this. “I take full responsibility. Walk me through how this affects us for the next two months. I’ve already decided to come back full time after the primaries, regardless if my father is on the ballot or not.”

Timothy’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and for the next hour he and Phoebe discussed options and business plans that could be executed to extend what funding they had on hand. She’d even used her cell phone to patch in Crescent’s accountant who lectured her on upgrading their compliance so this wouldn’t happen again. They weren’t even close to being done when another knock sounded at the door.

“Timothy, here,” Phoebe said, handing over her cell so that she could deal with her next meeting. “Keep talking while I take care of something. I won’t be more than five minutes.”

Phoebe had already decided that her meeting with Stewart would be brief. She would hand him the new cold call list, along with instructions that he speak with Paul. She needed to start handing these responsibilities over to Paul anyway if she was going to step back after the primaries. Steve was already greeting her next guest and she knew he would keep Stewart at the door until she was ready. She headed into the bedroom, seeing her suitcase that she’d repacked for her and Lach’s trip to California, and hoped that this next hour passed by fast. She dug into her working files and pulled out Hannah’s letter of recommendation, which Phoebe had already inserted into an envelope. Stewart could give it to Hannah the next time he saw her.

Phoebe had come out of the bedroom and walked halfway across the living room when she finally looked up. To her surprise, Steve was standing in the foyer looking none too happy. Stewart was by his side and appeared a little chagrined, although for what reason she couldn’t fathom. Kimmie and Austin were still at the kitchen counter, not bothering with the books in front of them and both sets of eyes glued to Stewart. Timothy was too busy on the phone to notice anything was amiss.

“Is everything all right?” Phoebe asked, directing the question to Steve.

“Mr. Barnes brought a guest with him that wasn’t on your list. I wouldn’t allow the young lady inside without speaking with you first.”

Phoebe finally understood and shot Stewart a look of irritation. Hannah? Why would Steve have brought Hannah knowing full well she would be perceived as a potential threat in the eyes of her personal security detail? Technically, all Phoebe needed to do was hand him the folder along with the letter and send him on his way, yet she didn’t want Hannah to think she harbored any ill will toward her. Stewart had placed her in a difficult situation.

“Steve, it’s all right. She can come in.”

“I can’t allow that unless we do a pat down, Ms. Dunaway. Her father’s in jail for communicating a threat against your father.” Steve’s tone was hard, indicating his displeasure that even the remotest of threats had appeared at her doorstep. She couldn’t blame him and nodded her consent. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Stewart, you should have known better,” Phoebe admonished softly. She came to stand next to him to see what was taking place near the entrance. Steve had closed the door behind him, but she figured he was looking through Hannah’s purse and checking her person for any type of concealed weapon. “I know that you and Hannah are close, but you can’t just bring her to my apartment.”

“Hannah wanted to come with me,” Stewart replied, slipping his hands into his black trousers. He’d come a long way in being the spoiled son of a senator, yet if he wasn’t careful, the choices he made would overshadow any future he might have in following in his father’s footsteps. “Her father used her for information. You have no idea how bad that hurt her and she just wants to thank you in person for writing her a recommendation. It means a lot to her.”

“We talked about this,” Phoebe argued, locking eyes with Stewart to show him the importance of her words. “Hell, Stewart, I gave Hannah my opinion the day her father was arrested. The best thing she can do is stay out of the limelight until some small campaign comes along that she can use to start rebuilding her career, if that’s the path that she wants to take. In all honesty, I’m not even sure it would work out then. Her career in any type of politics probably ended the day her dad pled guilty.”

Phoebe separated the folder from the letter she’d crafted and handed the file to Stewart. The door opened slowly and she got an uneasy feeling until she saw Steve standing there, Hannah by his side. Jim and Kimmie’s shift agent were behind them, with Jim reaching for the handle as Steve and Hannah stepped across the threshold, shutting them inside. The innocent young girl looked at Stewart as she walked closer, most likely to see how much trouble she’d gotten him into.

“Ms. Dunaway, please don’t be mad at Stewart. I knew he was coming by to pick up my recommendation letter and I wanted to come personally thank you for doing this for me.” Hannah clutched her purse in front of her, showing her anxiety. “It’s important that you know how much it means to me that you have faith in me.”

A second hadn’t gone by when a low thud sounded throughout the apartment and Steve fell to the floor. Kimmie’s yelp seemed muffled to Phoebe’s ears as she tried to figure out what just happened. Stewart starting spouting curses before backing up from the blood that was pooling beneath Steve’s collapsed body. Hannah seemed to follow Stewart’s path, still clutching her purse. There was nothing in her hands to indicate she’d done something to Steve, although everyone was looking around, trying to figure out what had happened.

“What the fuck?” Timothy said from behind where Phoebe was still attempting to come out of the shock that had been given to her system.

“Steve?” Phoebe dropped the envelope that was still in her hand, taking a step toward the agent. He wasn’t moving and there was so much blood, her mind was having trouble deciphering what to do. “We need to—”

“Phoebe, don’t,” Stewart ordered, his words shaking as he lifted a trembling arm and pointed a finger.

Phoebe’s gaze followed his aim and she saw Austin move out from behind the small wall that separated the foyer from the kitchen. In his hand was a gun with what looked like a smoking silencer attached to it, just like in all of the movies she’d seen. A cruel smile was on his face, but his eyes were locked onto Hannah. The girl’s mirthful laughter resounded through the apartment, but unfortunately, it wasn’t loud enough to penetrate through the front door.

“You’re late, honey,” Austin announced to Hannah, although pointing the weapon at Phoebe. She took a step back and bumped into Timothy and Kimmie. “I wasn’t sure they were going to let you in.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

L
ach punched the elevator button and waited impatiently for the doors to open. He’d texted Phoebe twice and phoned her once, but his call went directly to voicemail. He knew that she was in meetings, but it was rare that she didn’t reply back. He’d swung by his apartment, packed what he’d need over the weekend, and then ran his Land Cruiser through the wash. There had still been remnants of salt and sand on the undercarriage of his vehicle and he couldn’t stand the thought of it remaining there to rust the metal while his SUV sat in long-term parking. He looked up at the horizontal line of numbers, trying to see what the holdup was.

“McKinnon,” Thornton said in greeting as he came to stand beside Lach. Whereas Lach was comfortable in a pair of denims, the agent was wearing a crisp suit without a strand of hair out of place on top of his head. He was going to be as uncomfortable as hell on the plane. “We are still on schedule to depart at sixteen hundred. We’ll follow behind and then once we hit the airport, we’ll make our way through the security checkpoint before we have to endure the TSA two-step to carry on our weapon aboard the aircraft. The air marshal has to be notified and TSA always takes their sweet time with all of the paperwork.”

“I’m familiar with that particular dance step,” Lach replied as the elevator doors finally swung open. He waited for a couple to disembark and then took their place, hitting Phoebe’s floor number. “Is Jim going as well?”

“Yes, as well as an agent named Dennis. I’ll introduce you when we get to the airport,” Thornton responded, coming to stand beside Lach. “Too many variables.”