“Thanks.”
“Funny, I never would’ve pegged that guy for having money, and my paydar is pretty good.”
“Paydar?”
“Yeah. Like gaydar, only with dough. I can usually pick ’em, even when they dress down. But that guy fooled me.”
“Gotta get back to work.” Jake went back into his office, where he closed the door and hurried to his desk. He got online, went to the website for his bank, and signed in to check his accounts.Interest Checking, Savings,andMoney Market,read the blue virtual folders, and he thought back to what Pam had said last night, about the financial disclosure required for her nomination.
It’s like doing your taxes, every quarter for the next five years!
Jake leaned over to get his messenger bag, tugged out the forms that Pam had given him, and flipped through them frantically. The questionnaire asked for the“sources and amounts of all income received during the calendar year preceding your nomination and for the current calendar year, including all salaries, fees, dividends, interest, gifts, rents, royalties, licensee’s fees…”
Jake couldn’t see any way around the questionnaire. Even if he wanted to pay the blackmail, he couldn’t take $250K out of their accounts without its showing, and if the money didn’t appear in another account, canceled check, or trade receipt, the FBI would find out. They would get caught. It would scuttle Pam’s nomination, if not send them both to jail.
Jake tried to think, his temples throbbing. Even before the FBI would find it, he knew Pam would. She was always going online and checking their household balances. She might not check the money market, but he couldn’t take the risk.
Cash one of those client’s checks you must have lying around.
Jake’s gaze traveled the office and came to rest on the crystal awards. He’d gotten a check for $321K from one of his longtime clients last week. It was still in the company safe, waiting to be deposited because it had come in too late on Friday. It was due to be deposited today. He racked his brain to think of a way he could use the check, borrow the $250K, and replace it later, somehow, after the FBI interviews were over and Pam’s judgeship was in the clear.
Jake stopped his thinking in its tracks. Was he seriously thinking about stealing? He couldn’t, ever. He loved his clients, and he loved Gardenia. It was his baby, he’d raised it from infancy. He had personal integrity; he had morals and pride. He’d worked hard to gain the trust of his clients, and he had a spotless, unimpeachable record. He was a Good Guy, so when had he turned bad? Then he knew the answer, on Pike Road.
Jake considered another option. He could try to stall Deaner until after the FBI interviews. Then he could take the money from his personal money market and replace it before Pam realized it had gone missing, or he could sell some stock, which she checked far less often. Suddenly his cell phone started ringing on his desk, vibrating next to his keyboard.
Jake looked over, and the call was from Ryan. The screen showed a candid photo of his son, grinning on their driveway with a basketball tucked in the crook of his elbow. Jake reached for his phone and hitANSWER. “Hey, pal, what’s up?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.
“Dad!” Ryan sounded hysterical. “Dad! You need to come get me at school, now!”
Chapter Twenty-three
Jake pulled up around the back of the school, outside the cafeteria, which faced the student parking lot. He spotted Ryan hurrying toward him without a coat, hunching his shoulders against the cold. Jake leaned over in alarm and opened the passenger-side door. “Ryan, what’s the matter?”
“Dad, drive.” Ryan jumped into the car, pulled up his long legs, and slammed the door closed. “Hurry. Just go.”
“Where? Why? What happened?” Jake hit the gas, glancing over. Ryan looked distraught, but hadn’t wanted to tell him why on the phone.
“Drive away. Where nobody can see us. Please.” Ryan gestured quickly, pitched forward on the seat, and Jake drove through the lot, past cars withGo Chaserspainted in maroon on the windows.
“What about school? Did you cut class?”
“No, they don’t know I’m gone yet. It’s A Lunch.” Ryan raked his bangs in agitation. “Dad, for real, class is the least of my worries right now. Something really scary is going on. Really scary.”
“Okay, calm down. Relax. Whatever it is, we can handle it.” Jake steered out of the student lot and on to the winding road that led to Lincoln Avenue, where he made the green light, then took the left fork and entered the Stone Hills neighborhood, so named because the homes were made of an indigenous tan-and-brown fieldstone.
“Is anybody following us, can you tell?” Ryan peered at the mirror outside the car.
“No, of course not,” Jake answered, but he checked the rearview mirror anyway. There was nobody behind him except a FedEx truck. “Why would somebody be following us? Ryan, what’s going on?”
“Pull over.” Ryan stayed glued to the outside mirror.
“Okay, relax.” Jake heard his phone ringing inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket, but he’d get it later.
“I don’t know.” Ryan scanned the street, shifting in his seat. “Do you see anything random? Is anybody following us?”
“No. Relax, I’ll park.” Jake pulled over at the corner and put the car in park, leaving the engine running for the heat.
“Do you think it’s safe here?”
