Miranda Vaughn Mystery 01.00 - Chasing the Dollar (12 page)

"I hope noodles are acceptable," he said, taking a couple containers out of the bag.

"
Sure. I'm not a picky eater," I said.

We ate spicy noodles and vegetables out of Styrofoam containers, the unfamiliar heat of the peppers barely cut by the sweet coconut milk. I wasn
't sure if I'd worked up an appetite or if it was the best meal I'd ever eaten. By the time we'd reached the bottom of the to-go boxes, I had shown Jake what I found about Cecily Ho.

She was local to
Macau and worked as an interpreter and executive assistant—or at least she had when the government seized the corporation's computer files almost two years ago. Cecily was twenty-nine, fluent in Cantonese, Mandarin, French, Portuguese, and English and started working for Patterson about six years earlier. Her emails weren't among those seized from the corporate computers, so I didn't know much about her besides her resume and home address.

"
We should go visit her tomorrow," Jake said, standing and clearing the empty food containers. "In the meantime, we should get some sleep."

I nodded, and my gaze fell on the bed. I looked up at Jake, and he grinned.
"Hope you don't snore."

I frowned at the thought of sharing a bed with him, at least under these circumstances. He tossed me a
T-shirt from a black duffel bag and then left to take the trash out.

Great
. A slumber party with the FBI. I put the laptop away and then went to the bathroom to change into the too-large T-shirt and brush my teeth. When I returned, Jake was still gone, so I turned off the light and climbed into bed, taking the side by the window. I left the lamp on his nightstand on, but the room was dim and quiet, and the pillow soft. Within a few minutes, I could feel my body relaxing and my thoughts drifting off.

The bed shifting under Jake
's weight woke me, and I bolted upright.

"
Sorry," Jake whispered. "I was trying not to wake you."

The room was dark now, lit only by the moonlight coming through the window and a slim wedge of light coming from the half-open door of the bathroom. The bed creaked as he settled under the thin blanket.

"What time is it?" I asked, still disoriented.

He looked at his watch.
"It's about nine. I got a call when I stepped out. I didn't mean to be gone that long."

I had only been asleep a half hour at most. I lay back down and tried to calm my heart rate. My mind was racing nearly as fast as my pulse. I turned and looked at Jake, who was on his side now, watching me. His hair was still mussed and his expression concerned.

"You okay?"

"
Yeah, yeah, fine," I said, tugging the blanket up to my shoulders.

"
I need to ask you something," he said, his voice low.

"
Sure."

"
What did your friend tell you about Ralph's suicide?"

I shivered in the warm room and pulled at the blanket again. The thought of Ralph
's death chilled me.

"
Just that he killed himself in prison. He had only been there for a few days and wasn't on suicide watch," I said.

"
That's not what happened," he said softly.

"
What happened?" From the tone in his voice, I had a pretty good idea what he was going to tell me. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly.

"
His death is under investigation. It wasn't a suicide."

"
So it was murder?"

"
Yes."

"
Who?"

He paused.
"I don't know."

"
Another inmate?"

"
That's pretty unlikely at the camp where he was. He should have been safe there. It's all nonviolent offenders, fraud defendants, like he was."

"
So, who then? A guard?"

Another long pause followed my question.
"I don't have any information about that."

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Who would kill Ralph? I thought back to the list of accounts and the large sums of money being laundered by Patterson. A decade worth of money laundering. There could be a large number of powerful people who would want to ensure Ralph
's silence.

"
Is Tim at risk?"

"
He's been moved to a protected unit," Jake said, rubbing his eyes. "How did you get involved with these people?"

I thought about it for a long minute before answering.

"I didn't," I said, trying to find the right words that would finally convince him. "I trusted the Patterson Tinker name. The investment house has been around for twenty-five years. It has a good reputation. Well, it used to. Billions of dollars are entrusted to Patterson each year. Probably tens of billions, maybe more. And yes, it looks like there are some criminals doing some shady things, but a large portion of its business is legitimate, just as most of the employees there aren't knowingly breaking the law."

Jake rested his elbow and studied my face.

"You had no idea what was going on?"

I shook my head.

"I would never have gone along with it," I said. "I know you don't believe me. Fine. But I know that I did nothing wrong."

That was going to be cold comfort when these credit card bills came due, unless I could find a way to clear my name. If the government would admit I was innocent, not merely not guilty, I could get a job, rebuild my savings.

"You beat the case. Why isn't that enough?"

"
Because I don't want to spend the rest of my life working at the bakery, serving coffee to people whose paychecks I used to approve."

"
No luck finding a new job?"

"
Well, when your public image is being led out of your last job in handcuffs…" I gave him a long stare, and he had the decency to look away. He should, since he had been the one leading me out of the building in cuffs. "Apparently, I'm radioactive in the financial services industry."

"Where have you been working?"

"
For my aunt at her bakery," I said, hugging my arms around me. Lying in the dark talking to Jake seemed natural. But I wasn't sure if it was wise. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. I'm the first person in my family to graduate from college. Now everyone thinks I'm no better than my parents. Just another criminal."

He continued to study me, his head tilted.

"Your parents were criminals?"

I shrugged. I hadn
't meant to go there, but since I was unburdening my soul, might as well get free therapy out of this little chat.

"
Petty stuff, some drug possession, theft to support drug habits. They were seventeen when I was born, so I was raised by my Aunt Marie since I was three years old. My dad split shortly after I was born. My mom floated in and out of my life once in a while, but she died in a car accident when I was ten."

"
And your dad, where is he now?"

"
He died when I was twenty. Overdose. I never knew him."

"
Any siblings? Other family besides your aunt?"

"
No, it's just the two of us," I said, staring back at him, wondering what he was thinking. "That's why I have to do this. She sacrificed everything for me growing up and then again when I got arrested. She doesn't deserve this. To have the bakery taken from her. To lose her home."

The tears spilled over, and my breath hitched.

"I can't do that to her."

The strong hand that took mine offered comfort, strength. And a dose of reality. I couldn
't trust Jake. And I couldn't trust myself around Jake. I needed to get a grip.

I pulled my hand away and wiped my face.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just jet-lagged."

"
No, you're upset. It's okay." His voice was low and deep and lulled me into looking at him. Big mistake. The moonlight highlighted the rugged planes of his face. His eyes watching me. Staring into his dark eyes was like falling into a warm, comforting embrace.

"
You should get some sleep," I said.

"
I will," he said.

But he still lay there, and I realized that I was gripping his hand now. His thumb stroked the skin on the top of my hand. Each touch left a tingling trail, and my heart quickened. He leaned in and smoothed my hair away from my face.

"Get some sleep, Miranda."

I pulled my hand away to break the contact, but the tremors in my stomach remained.

The afternoon sun was low and slanting over the city the next day as Jake and I left the motel to hail a cab to take us to a residential neighborhood away from the city center.

I had spent some time surreptitiously studying Bill Macias
's flash drive while waiting until the afternoon, when we planned to go visit Cecily Ho after she got home from work. By mid-day, I was pretty sure I knew why Bill had gone underground. He was in trouble—deep trouble. It wasn't about Sahara Fund investors losing thirty-seven million, either. That looked like chump change compared to the figures I saw on his spreadsheets. Unfortunately, my few hours of studying Bill's secret flash drive wasn't enough to figure out exactly what was going on. And there were so many more encrypted files that I couldn't read.

Jake whistled, and a cab pulled to the curb. He handed the driver a note with the address written on it and said a few words in Cantonese, and the man opened the door for us to get in the backseat, an apparent agreement that he would get us to our destination. Once settled in the backseat, I studied Jake with growing suspicion.

"You speak Cantonese?"

"
Only a little."

There was so much I didn
't know about Jake Barnes. It made me uneasy, being tied to him now. But I was stuck with him for a while. I wasn't comfortable returning to the Mandarin, and if there was a chance that Bill Macias was still in Macau, I needed to stay here.

I fought off a yawn as the sun streamed into the warm and muggy cab. Though I was exhausted last night, every movement in the bed caused me to jolt wide-awake. I wasn
't used to sleeping next to someone, especially someone who was essentially a stranger. When I finally drifted off, I dreamed about being chased by through Macau by the men at the Mandarin Hotel. I awoke feeling like I'd just run a marathon.

As the cab crept through
Macau's late afternoon traffic, I mulled over what I'd seen in Bill's secret files. Money was being transferred willy-nilly from various banks in a dozen different countries, then to other accounts—some not belonging to Patterson Investments. Some had no names associated with them, just strings of numbers. Some had generic-sounding names that meant nothing to me—Christopher A. Jenkins, Robert S. Stafford, Jr., Jerome Knight, Marie de Jesus Santiago. I dug deeper into the account list and found a trove of boring corporate names—ABC Holdings, Corp.; Seabreeze Island, Inc.; Millennium, LLC. They had some of the most preposterous fake addresses I could imagine—unless there really was a 123 Main Street, Anytown, New York. I'd bet my last dollar they were shell corporations used to hide assets.

Then I saw my name.

Miranda Marie Vaughn
.

And not just on one account, but on a half-dozen. Two in
Switzerland, two in Belize, two in Macau. I knew I hadn't opened accounts there.

The last entry on the spreadsheet was just over three weeks earlier, right around the time that Bill disappeared. I had quickly added up the incoming and outgoing sums in
"my" accounts and was disappointed to learn that I wasn't rich beyond my wildest dreams. The accounts were simply pass-throughs on the funds' way to numbered accounts in other counties.

"
Are you okay?"

Jake
's concerned voice startled me.

"
Yes, fine. Why do you ask?"

"
You looked a million miles away," he said. "Did you sleep much last night?"

I shook my head.
"Not really."

I had been able to get a nap this afternoon. Jake thought it was too dangerous for us to be out wandering in
Macau, so we stayed in the cramped motel room until late afternoon.

The cab swerved down a tree-lined street and turned onto a smaller lane that wound past a row of small apartment buildings. He pulled to the curb and pointed at a white building that sat in the shade of several large trees.

Jake paid the driver, and we got out of the cab.

"
This way," Jake said, taking my arm and leading me down a path between two buildings. The doors were sheltered from the street and opened onto the courtyard between buildings. A cluster of flowering trees shaded us from a bright but overcast sky. The branches barely moved in the thick, moist air. Each entrance was private with gated patio and shrubs. We walked to the end of the building, and Jake peered over the last gate. "This is it."

He pressed a buzzer on the gate, and a moment later, a young Asian woman answered the door.

"Cecily Ho?" Jake asked.

"
Yes. Who are you?" she asked.

"
Bill Macias's brother-in-law," he said.

Her eyes widened, and her face paled.
"I don't know Bill Macias."

I rolled my eyes.
"Yes, you do. You worked with him at Patterson Investments."

She looked at me with a confused expression.
"Yes, you're right. But I don't know him well."

I looked to Jake, then back at her.
"You've been seeing Bill outside of work for quite some time," I said.

She frowned, looked around and stepped out on to the patio and motioned for us to come through the gate. She closed the door to the apartment behind her and crossed her arms in front of her. She was very pretty, with sleek black hair cut in a chic chin-length style. She was wearing a suit skirt and blouse, as if she
'd just come home from work.

"
I don't know where Bill is. I haven't seen him since he was fired about three weeks ago." Her voice was low, and I had to lean in to hear her.

"
Are you still working at Patterson?" I asked.

Again she shook her head.
"No, the energy division was disbanded. A few people transferred to other departments. Most of the local staff, like me, we were laid off."

She composed herself and looked Jake in the eye. I saw the flash of diamond earrings through her thick dark hair.
"I can't help you, I'm afraid. I haven't spoken to anyone at Patterson since I left. I got a good recommendation and started a new job almost immediately."

I got it. Cecily Ho had probably accepted a fat severance package and signed a nondisclosure agreement in return for a good recommendation.

Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"
Can you tell me where he might be? Any friends of his who might know. His family is worried," Jake said.

"
Family? He said he was divorced." Her voice rose slightly, and her body stiffened.

"
He is divorced. But he has two children with his ex-wife." He pulled out his cell phone and turned it on, then handed it to Cecily. "That's Henry and Lily. They're three and five years old."

She tilted her head, and her eyes softened as she looked at the images on the phone.
"They look so much like their father," she whispered.

"
If he's in trouble, we're his best bet at helping him," I said, lowering my voice.

Cecily bit her lip, and after a minute, she nodded.
"He's just trying to get out."

Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Get out of what?" Jake asked, lowering his voice, too.

"
It would be better if he explained it to you," she said.

"
Where is he?" I asked.

"
Stay here," she said, turning to the front door. "I'll be right back."

She entered the apartment, and Jake and I stood awkwardly on her patio. Was she going to get Bill? Calling Patterson
's security department? The police? A few minutes later, she returned and handed Jake a piece of paper, folded in half.

"
He'll meet you there in an hour," she said. "Now, please go. I don't want to be involved."

She backed into the house and shut the door, and Jake held the gate for me to leave. We walked back to the street and then to the corner, where traffic was heavier.

"Do you believe her?"

"
Not entirely," he said. "You?"

"
I think she cares for him."

"
Why?"

"
Because she's trying to protect him."

"
From what, though?"

I stayed silent while Jake punched the address Cecily gave him into his phone
's GPS map. "We're not too far."

"
Do you think he was inside the apartment?" I asked.

"
Yes, probably," Jake said, frowning.

We walked along the residential streets as the sunlight faded. The street ended at a busy boulevard, and we headed toward the harbor that we could see in the distance. By the time we reached the vast parking lot for a defunct ferry service, the sky was inky black, and the streetlights had come on. Jake
's gaze swept the acres of empty asphalt continually as we approached the boarded up building.

"
Why would he choose this place?" I asked, dreading the answer.

Jake didn
't say anything, just looked at his phone again.

"
We're a little early. Let's look over there," he said, pulling me around the building.

The alley between the main building and what looked like a machine shop was completely darkened, untouched by the lights in the parking lot. Though it was still warm, a shiver ran down my spine at the thought of venturing into that alley. Jake, though, seemed to have no fear of what might lie ahead. He pulled me a few feet into the alley and then leaned against the wall, keeping me behind him. I peered around him to watch the parking lot, or at least what we could see from our hiding place. My heart thumped in my chest, and I struggled to keep my breathing normal. But all I could think of was whether Bill Macias was setting us up. Why else would we be meeting in an abandoned ferry yard?

The high-pitched whine of a motorcycle engine cut through the silence, and my heart nearly stopped. Jake reached back and pressed me against the wall behind him.

"
Stay here," he whispered. He turned to look at me, but all I could see was his silhouette against the yellow light of the parking lot. I nodded. "I mean it. No matter what happens, you need to stay hidden."

"
I understand."

It was like he didn
't trust me or something.

Jake stayed still, and I leaned forward to peer around his back. The motorcycle came into view and stopped near the stairs that led up to the old ferry terminal
's main building. A man stepped off and looked around, shifting nervously. He walked up the steps, turning back to look over his shoulder at the empty lot. As he hurried behind a wide column, he took off his helmet and faced away from where Jake and I were standing just about twenty-five feet behind him. He peeked around the post from time to time to scan the parking lot.

Finally, Jake stirred, squeezing my hand and then putting his hands on my shoulders in a silent command to stay in the darkened alley. I nodded but wasn
't sure if he would see my response in the pitch-black space. Then he stepped out of the shadows.

"
Hello, Bill."

The man by the post jumped nearly a foot straight up. The helmet he was holding crashed to the ground and rolled a few feet away.

"Jesus, Jake! You scared the hell out of me," he said, his hand at his throat. "Cecily said it was you, but I didn't know what to believe."

"
It's me," Jake said, moving out under the light.

"
Is anyone with you?" Bill asked, looking into the alley. It felt like he was staring right at me, but I knew he couldn't see me. "Cecily said there was a girl with you."

Jake nodded.
"There was."

"
Who was it?"

"
I think you know who it was."

"
What are you doing here, Jake?" Even in the dim light from the security lamp, I could see Bill's face was shiny with sweat.

"
You fell off the grid three weeks ago. No one has heard from you. Molly was getting worried."

Bill ran a hand over his head and paced a few feet away, then back toward Jake.

"Are they okay? Molly and the kids, they're safe, right?"

"
Safe from what?" Jake asked, his voice more angry now.

"
Just—it's complicated, all right? Just make sure that they're safe," he said.

"
You're not making any sense, Bill. Just calm down, and tell me what is going on."

Bill continued to pace, his nervousness nearly palpable in the silence.

"Aren't you worried about your girlfriend?" Jake asked.

"
Cecily is fine. She's not involved in this. She doesn't know anything. And no one knows about her, anyway."