Running the Numbers (27 page)

Sadie took a deep breath and scanned everything—places highlighted where the math didn’t add up, unrecognizable account numbers, and finally a name. She dropped the page and glared sharply at Blake. “Nina? You’re blaming Nina for this?”

He indicated the file. “There’s evidence, Sadie. I’m sorry.”

“But she couldn’t have—”

“Access to Duncan’s files? Access to the bookkeeping hardcopies, which made casting Amanda into question quite easy to do by rewriting the totals, then making clean copies to wipe out the evidence of tampering?”

Sadie couldn’t believe it. Her friend. Nina had spent time in her home, laughed, and commiserated with her. “How did you figure it out? I mean, the trail’s here.” She picked up the page once more, her hands shaking. She took in the numbers, how they all added up, and stared at Blake. “But this isn’t something you’d have accidently stumbled on to. How did you know to look into Nina’s activities?”

“The day Amanda caught Wes rifling through Duncan’s desk when he was out, Nina told me she left to pick up coffee because the coffeemaker broke, which is why she hadn’t been here to catch Wes in the act—”

“Or prevent it altogether,” Duncan added darkly, his face down, still studying page after page of Blake’s report. His face was flushed a dull red, and his jaw locked in place like it’d been sown shut.

Blake continued, “I questioned Kennedy about that day, hoping she’d remember if anyone else managed to sneak upstairs. She mentioned Nina coming back to the office and heading upstairs. Only, she didn’t have coffee. Kennedy remembers seeing Nina return with a stack of files from making copies next door. Manila files,” he added, looking at each of them in turn. “Plain old manila file folders, the likes of which I haven’t seen in this office since my first day on the job.”

Sadie’s breath caught. Reba’s bright, flashy folders and sticky notes of every imaginable color. Of course. “They were Nina’s personal copies. Weren’t they? Copies she didn’t want getting mixed up with the others.”

“Or stored on the copier’s memory.” Blake shrugged sadly. “The copier acts up from time to time, so that’s easy enough to believe, but when two office appliances create one convenient circumstance too many, it’s a reason to look closer. I cross-referenced files that had red-flagged Amanda and worked back from there. Each one corresponds to a movement in Nina’s second bank account. It actually belongs to her deceased mother. Instead of closing the account, she continues to use it as a means to launder the money stolen from the firm.”

Again, Sadie was floored. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I asked for forty-eight hours so the sheriff’s office would have time to issue warrants, which were granted immediately. The account’s been frozen. Nina will have likely discovered it by now.”

Duncan rubbed his forehead and began to pace. “We let her go to lunch. What do we do? Confront her when she gets back?”

Blake stood and re-buttoned his blazer. “This is no longer a private matter, Duncan.” He nodded toward Mrs. Avery, who’d finished scanning the pages and watched Blake with mingled pride and wariness. “The sheriff will take her into custody at her home. I arranged it in the interest of her privacy. What you decide to tell your staff here is up to you, Mrs. Avery, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate a public display of one of your most trusted employees being carted from the office in cuffs. It wouldn’t look good to clients walking in the front door, I assure you.”

It took five more minutes for Sadie and Blake to escape the conference room. Sadie flopped into her desk chair, sad, disheartened, and exhausted from the morning’s revelations. Blake perched on the edge of her desk and pulled his tie loose.

“That was awful,” she moaned in a small voice.

“Yeah.” He looked at her pityingly. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you first, but my loyalty has to be to the firm. I hope you understand.”

Sadie nodded. She did, actually, and she admired Blake for his professionalism. If only he’d always sported such dashing notions of fidelity.

He stood up straight. “Listen, I need to take care of a few things. You and I, we’re not done. Not by a long shot. But when I come to you, it’ll be with a clear conscious and a free heart. Expect me for Sunday dinner.”

A clear conscious and a free heart.

Sadie’s skin tingled at the promise implied, driven home by the fiercely hopeful contemplation written on Blake’s face, like a hastily scrawled love note, quick and passionate. He had a hand on the door already, her prince dashing away to slay one last dragon before he’d dare take the princess. God forbid he let it rest; it might come back and steal his happy ending one day.

When had she become such a romantic?

She didn’t argue with him. It wouldn’t do any good, judging by the determined set to his shoulders. Instead, she settled for a small nettling. A little something to remind him what he’d traded Amanda in for, in case he’d forgotten. “Just don’t show up expecting to need a fork. I hear there’s a sale on those little frozen potato things at Smith’s.”

He cast her a parting grin over his shoulder. “No worries. I have deft fingers.”

She was glad he left before her vivid imagination grasped on to the image of his deft fingers and what other use she might have for them besides potato bites.

“What can you possibly have to say to me, Blake?”

He leaned back comfortably, his hands tucked loosely into his jean pockets as he contemplated Amanda. “Only an apology.”

Amanda rested her hip against the doorjamb, crossed her arms, and peered at him with eyes that weren’t quite as intriguing now that he knew what lurked behind them. Or rather, what didn’t. “I’ve been getting quite a few of those lately,” she remarked offhandedly.

Blake guessed Sadie would’ve come to see Amanda. Her courage to face a person she felt she’d wronged was part of the reason Blake was here doing the same—putting himself at the mercy of yet another woman he’d screwed over, albeit unintentionally.

“You deserve them. I never meant—”

“Oh, please.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “Spare me. This apology is for your own sake. You carry around guilt like an accessory, Blake. I’m not sure you’ll know who you are without it.”

The rare insight unnerved him. “You can hold it against me if you want, I guess. However, I am sorry I didn’t tell you about my marriages. You never asked. Just like I never asked about anyone from your past. I assumed we’d get there eventually. That’s how most relationships work.”

“Like you’d know,” she deadpanned. “What does it say about you that Sadie knew what your girlfriend didn’t?”

“Sadie picked and prodded until I told her just so she’d zip it.” He wanted to smile at the fact now. He’d had her right there and hadn’t realized it. “You know, she and I are friends at the heart of this thing. She’s easy to talk to. She’s fun, curious, and determined when she’s after something. Not a bad friend to have.”

The corner of Amanda’s mouth quirked up and she glanced past Blake. “No. She’s not. Friendly, helpful, loyal.” Her gaze binged back to Blake, and her tone hardened. “Honest.”

He understood it for a warning and figured he deserved it. He’d been honest with Sadie so far. Painfully and embarrassingly so. He planned to keep it up indefinitely.

“I suppose if I’m still going to be friends with Sadie, I’ll have to eventually get used to hanging around you, as well?”

Blake shrugged. “Not necessarily.” He couldn’t imagine doing couples stuff like double dates and movie nights with Wes and Amanda. “I think you and Sadie do well enough on your own.”

Amanda smiled thinly. “I don’t forgive you, Blake. But I do wish you and Sadie the best. At least until you meet another pretty blond who reminds you of your first love.” She backed into the house and went to close the door.

Blake waved and offered her a flat smile. “Actually, Amanda, thanks to you, I’ll never again look twice at a woman who looks too good to be true. You’re not the first woman I pursued on such simpleminded criteria. But you’re definitely the last.”

* * * *

Sadie almost couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Duncan and Kennedy seemed plagued by the same grief. Nina had been a trusted friend, a personal confidant. Sadie had relied on her for advice and counsel, trusted her with secrets, even let her use the big wineglass occasionally. Countless nights, Nina had curled up on Sadie’s sofa to talk about work and bemoan Wes. Side by side, right there with Sadie and Kennedy, meanwhile betraying them all.

They’d been let in on the contents of Nina’s statement, the local police department having passed it on to Duncan for the formal internal inquiry, which Blake would spearhead in his final capacity as audit director.

Sadie sipped her iced tea. Beer seemed like a bad idea at the moment. It’d be easy to overdo it just to kill the awkward buzzing in her head and the anguish in her heart. “How could she?”

It came out as little more than a desperate whisper. It wasn’t a random statement, a berating, but an honest question that burned her up inside.

Kennedy stirred the olive in her martini. “Money’s like a drug for some people. In her statement, Nina claimed she ‘borrowed’ to pay off the debt she inherited from her mom, but she could’ve paid it back if she’d wanted. Instead, she discovered how easy it was to manipulate the paper trail from her position. Why stop? It’s not like she had the prospect of a promotion to work toward. She was the top-dog secretary. Nowhere left to go.”

“The stealing isn’t what I’m talking about,” Sadie clarified. “I want to know how you sit at someone’s table, drink someone’s wine, smile at their jokes, love them, and be there for them, all while carrying around this huge, hurtful secret. Ken, she was our friend.”

She didn’t like it, but Sadie couldn’t help Blake’s affair fr
om popping into her mind. Had he spent his day with Kira, only to go home to his wife, hold her, and whisper his love in her ear? How many lies must he have told? Emotions faked, stories made up.

Kennedy shook her head in her doleful, judgmental way. “You’re taking it personally, Sade. Nina didn’t steal from you. Or me. She stole from Avery & Thorp.”

“I don’t care.” Sadie refused to make a single excuse for Nina. “She might as well have reached her hand straight into my purse and snatched my wallet. That’s what it feels like.”

Duncan broke in for the first time. He slumped over the bar and stared at nothing. Of all of them, he had it the worst. He’d trusted Nina implicitly, would’ve vouched for her to the ends of the earth. “Our commitment to the firm is what makes it so easy to take personally. I liked Nina. I respected her. I felt truly lucky to have her. I’m more disappointed than anyone with what she’s done. But her actions don’t define her. Sometimes, good people make crappy decisions. That’s all there is to it.”

Sadie shook her head. “I disagree.”

“Oh?” Duncan’s eyebrows rose. “I guess that means Blake is taking a pay cut for no reason.”

“Don’t make this about Blake.”

“If you’ll make excuses for a guy you’ve known less than a year, you ought to extend the same understanding to one of your best friends. Nina stole money from Avery & Thorp for half the amount of time Blake spent being unfaithful to his wife. At what point does one merit your forgiveness, Sadie?”

She drummed her fingers on the bar as Kennedy and Duncan watched and waited for her answer. “I guess,” she began slowly, trying to come to terms with the point Duncan made, “the difference would come down to remorse. And time. Blake has had years to change. Nina was a thief up until the moment she was caught this morning. Maybe in time, Duncan. But not yet. I can’t forgive her yet.”

Duncan left a short time later, his full beer untouched on the bar.

Kennedy sighed and tugged on one of her golden curls. “Seems like we’re coming up on one of those curves in life, you know? Everything’s about to change. Can you feel it, too?”

Sadie nodded. “Nina, Wes, and Amanda all gone from the office. We’ll have a new boss and new coworkers.” She glanced at Kennedy and winked. “A new audit director.”

Kennedy’s proud smile blossomed, and Sadie was happy to see it. “I owe Blake one. Speaking of your new flame, don’t listen to Duncan. Blake is a good guy, his
personal
résumé notwithstanding. I’m glad you’re going to give him a chance.”

“I think you were right, Ken. About the other guys. The losers and idiots I kept falling for. Maybe they did see a relationship with me as some kind of new start. At least, this time, I won’t be waylaid by Blake’s big, dirty secret. And I think I’ve got the stones to stick it out.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Wow, it sure feels weird to agree with you on something. No wonder I never do it.”

Kennedy pressed her lips together and studied the long fingernails of one hand. “I guess I should apologize for being a jealous snot all the time. If it weren’t for me, Blake might’ve been spared that awkward time he had with Amanda. Then again, he probably needed to figure her out for himself. Anyway”—she flapped her hand as if shooing away a fly—“I’ll work on my issues. I have severe middle-child syndrome. I always feel underappreciated, left out, or overlooked.”

Sadie snorted. “It’s impossible to overlook you. You’re wearing lime green eyeliner.”

Kennedy batted her lashes. “It makes my eyes pop.”

“Because they’re trying to escape your face.”

That earned Sadie a punch to the arm. “This is why we can’t be friends.”

“Wrong.” Sadie punched her back. “This is why we’re
best
friends.”

* * * *

Blake considered insecurity a predominately female trait.

Women spent hours to make their hair just right, caked makeup onto their faces to hide the tiniest of imperfections, tortured themselves in heels to seem taller, and wore push-up bras to make their breasts seem bigger. They never accepted that what they had was adequate. It puzzled him whenever he stopped to wonder about it. He did so more often in his time with Kira, for she had cared far more about that kind of stuff than Quinn ever had.

In contrast, Blake—and most men he knew, with few exceptions—wore what shoes were the most comfortable, chose suits according to their fit, and underwear hardly registered as a concern so long as he remembered to wear them. The only thing he smeared on his face had an SPF label, and he’d never wasted a minute of his time stressing over the particularly deep wrinkle that had formed between his eyebrows as soon as he turned thirty-five.