We’re having a good December, and Christmas always brings people into Ripley’s. We go all out—eggnog cocktails, maple bourbon bread pudding, cranberry-glazed pork sliders, and gingerbread pancakes. Georgia insists on serving peppermint hot chocolate floats in mason jars, and the mulled wine’s got enough cloves to cure the plague.
We also had a really good November—not me, my month of thanks sucked, but Ripley’s made good money.
I feel guilty about what I did to Faith. I wish I’d talked to her before calling Kyle. I wish I had not pressed charges. I wish so many things. Seeing her at Nectar was a wakeup call for me. I believe her. No one who steals works as hard as Faith does.
The duty sergeant at the county station walks me to a conference room.
Inside I see Kyle, who’s slouched and looks like he’s aged five years, Paula and Melody. Neither of them meets my eyes.
My heart begins to beat faster. I think I know what Lo is going to tell me. I don’t like what I’m thinking.
Lo waves a hand at a chair on her right. She’s at the head of the table while the others are on her left side.
Them versus me?
“Everyone’s here,” she announces. “Let’s get this over with.”
I sit. My stomach knots. My instincts screaming.
She looks at me. “We found out who took your money. Faith?—”
“I don’t care,” I cut her off. “I’m not pressing charges.”
I can’t stand the idea of her suffering anymore. I just can’t.
I won’t do it.
“It wasn’t Faith,” Lo says softly, her eyes losing some of their hardness.
Relief loosens my stomach. I want to sink to my knees and thank the universe.
I also want to kick myself.
She didn’t do it and I had her arrested, fired her, made her a pariah to the point she’s cleaning dirty bathrooms in a strip club.
How will I ever make this right with her? How will I?—
“Paula and Melody accessed your office the night before the cash went missing,” Lo cuts into my thoughts. “They removed the money, planted the story, and pointed the finger.”
My world tilts.
I look at my sister. She’s staring at her lap. Melody has her head down as well.
“I didn’t know.” Kyle sits up. “They said they saw her and that…she was sleeping with you to rip you off, Cain.”
My mouth goes dry.
Kyle continues, in a panic, wanting to explain, tell his side of the story. “I called around in Seattle and?—”
“Don’t gloss it over, Kyle. You did a background check…anunauthorizedbackground check on Faith Baker,” Lo interrupted, her jaw clenched.
Kyle nods. “Paula said that something about her was off and…”
“Kyle here finds out that Faith worked at a club in Seattle. The Rosebud. He calls the owner. Jamie Da Silva. A complete douchebag. Da Silva says, yeah, Faith stole from him.” Lo glares at her subordinate. “How much did she steal from him?”
Kyle clears his throat and mumbles something.
“Louder,” Lo commands.
