LITMIR.BIZ

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reached for the envelope. “Well, whoever he is, he must be a damned fool! You would think that with all of the hubbub about Cameron, anyone else involved would be busy covering his tracks rather than taking any further risks. This guy must get his kicks by flirting with danger.”

      “It may not be a man,” Jim suggested.

      Kane cocked an interested black eyebrow. “A woman?” A satisfied, almost wicked smile crept over his lips.

      “Like I said before, I’m not sure, but it looks as if Cameron has always been…fond of the ladies. He’s had a reputation for promoting women.”

      “Whether they’re qualified or not?”

      Jim shrugged. He didn’t like the glint of inquisitive interest that had stolen over Kane’s features. “I haven’t had Cameron arrested as yet, but he’s being watched. Hopefully his colleague will surface soon.”

      “So you’re telling me that Cameron is still on the payroll and that although you’re sure he hasn’t taken any more funds, someone near to him has.” Kane Webster was beginning to show his anger.

      Jim squirmed only slightly as he went on to explain. “That’s about the size of it. We’re watching Cameron round the clock, night and day. We know that he hasn’t pocketed the funds himself, because we’ve kept him tied up with auditors and the like ever since it became apparent that he was embezzling trust funds. So far he hasn’t become suspicious.”

      Kane wasn’t convinced. “And his friend?”

      “Somehow she’s still manipulating the accounts and taking money.” Jim shook his head and grimaced. “I haven’t been able to trace it to her as yet. She’s very clever.”

      Kane sat thoughtfully in his chair and pulled out the personnel files that Jim had handed him. He didn’t doubt Jim’s assumption that Cameron had a woman accomplice. He’d worked with Jim too many years not to respect the younger man’s opinion. Jim’s suspicions had always paid off in the end for Consolidated Finances.

      The names on the personnel reports meant nothing to Kane, and at first glance, all of the files seemed to hold nothing out of the ordinary. “You’re sure that the thief is one of these people?”

      Jim nodded his head in affirmation. “No one else has the authority to move bank funds so freely.”

      “But couldn’t someone else forge a superior’s order?”

      “I thought about that too. I had it checked out, but the auditing system of the bank is too complete. No, our misguided embezzler is sitting right there in that envelope. All we have to do is figure out who she is.”

      Kane puzzled over Jim’s recent discoveries in what had appeared to be a sleepy little Seattle bank. His eyes narrowed as he thought about the trap that he would set for Cameron and his accomplice. The fact that it was a woman interested Kane. He had learned several years ago that women could be a devious lot, and it only reinforced his bitter opinion of the opposite sex to learn of the female embezzler.

      Jim Haney watched the play of emotions that traversed Kane’s dark features. He had worked with Kane for over ten years and had come to know his boss as well as anyone. Kane was a fair employer, but Jim knew from past experience that Kane could be ruthless if crossed. Right now, as Kane’s lips thinned, Jim was thankful that his name wasn’t Mitchell Cameron. And he couldn’t help but feel pity for the unfortunate woman who had gotten tangled up with Cameron. Jim had his own opinion about the accomplice’s identity, and he had met the woman. It was damned hard to believe that such an intelligent, sophisticated woman would be involved with the likes of Cameron. Oh, well—that was Kane’s problem. “Did you want me to have the police go to work on Cameron?” he asked.

      “No.” Kane shook his head, still immersed in his thoughts. “I’ll see to it personally. I’m leaving for Seattle tonight.” A satisfied grin moved over Kane’s features.

      “You’re really going to enjoy throwing the book at Cameron, aren’t you?”

      “And the woman! I don’t like any thief—especially when she’s got her hands in my pockets!” Kane retorted. “This just gives me one more reason to head north as soon as possible.”

      “That’s something I don’t understand at all,” Jim admitted. “Why you bought that miserable excuse of a bank—it’s been losing money for years—just so you can freeze your tail off in Seattle.”

      “California lost its sparkle for me quite a while ago,” Kane muttered tersely, then softened his tone as he caught the wounded look in Jim’s eyes. “You know of course about Krista. The doctor thinks a change of climate would be good for her. As soon as I have a permanent residence, I’ll send for her.”

      A personal question died on Jim’s lips as he noticed the sober tone of Kane’s final words. He hadn’t gotten to be vice-president of Consolidated Finances by asking questions that were none of his business. He’d heard the rumors associated with Kane: a glamorous ex-wife, a sticky divorce and an unfortunate accident. But Jim had never pried. He was too interested in self-preservation to open doors that Kane preferred locked.

      Kane pushed the manila envelope into his briefcase along with a small portrait of his daughter. He paused for a minute and looked at the eager young face before tucking the picture into a side pocket in the leather case. That accomplished, he snapped the briefcase closed.

      “The moving company will take care of the rest of this litter,” Kane observed, looking around his office for one last time. “If you need to get in touch with me, Carla has the number of my hotel in Seattle.”

      “Good luck,” Jim said, clasping Kane’s hand warmly.

      “Let’s hope I don’t have to rely on luck!” With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Kane walked out of his office for the last time.

      The early-model Volkswagen Rabbit skidded to an abrupt halt, splashing dirty rainwater from the street up onto the sidewalk. The driver of the little yellow car was a slim, striking woman who pulled the emergency brake, slung her purse over her shoulder and slammed the car door shut without taking the time to lock it. She hastened through the damp September evening toward the cozy Irish bar.

      There was a determined and slightly mysterious gleam in her large eyes as she hiked her raincoat up and clutched the collar tightly to her throat. Sidestepping a puddle of water as if it were second nature, she pushed her way through the stained-glass door of the restaurant.

      The familiar interior was dark, but Erin’s eyes became quickly accustomed to the dim lighting and the air thick with cigarette smoke. Loud, tinny music was coming from a rather bedraggled-looking band reminiscent of the late fifties.

      Unconsciously Erin wiped away a few drops of rain that still lingered on her cheeks, while she moved her gaze over the Friday night throng of customers that was heralding the beginning of what promised to be another rainy Seattle weekend.

      Appreciative glances and admiring smiles followed her movements, but she ignored everyone other than the distinguished man of about fifty sitting before the polished bottles and the mirrored backdrop of the bar. Erin’s eyes met his in the reflection, and for a moment a dark, guarded look crossed over his distracted blue eyes. Finally he smiled tightly and motioned for her to take the vacant stool at his side.

      “Mitch,” Erin sighed almost gratefully. “What on earth are you doing here?”

      He hesitated, and in that instant, any warmth in his eyes faded. “How did you know where to find me?”

      “Olivia Parsons thought you might be here,” Erin replied. Her smile disappeared at the thought of the leggy brunette.

      “Oh, I see. Dear old Livvie,” Mitch mumbled sarcastically. “Your friend and mine! Here’s to friendship.” He waved his glass theatrically in the air and signaled to the bartender for another drink. “What can I get you, Erin?”

      “Nothing,” Erin whispered, trying to keep the conversation

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