by Lisa Jackson
Jake glanced at his phone. His fingers tightened over the handle of the cup. “I’ll call him later,” he said, hoping his expression didn’t give him away. For the time being, he didn’t want Kimberly to know about Ron or the investigation, if there was one, on Robert. He wasn’t yet ready to explain completely about Daniel, though he felt guilty that he hadn’t placed all his cards on the table.
In time, he told himself as he slid into a chair and watched her take a seat across from him, when things have settled down. Then we’ll destroy all the ghosts from the past and concentrate on the future.
* * *
The weekend flew by. Kimberly spent every second with Jake and, true to her word, mended a couple of his shirts, organized his kitchen, did two loads of laundry and even dusted and vacuumed his house.
He protested vehemently, but she didn’t slack off, and in the end he contented himself by helping out and amusing Lindsay.
* * *
Kimberly couldn’t remember when she’d been happier, and that worried her as she walked into the offices of First Cascade on Monday morning. Christmas music murmured through the speakers, and the lobby of the bank was decorated for the holidays with strings of lights. Red and green letters spelling out Happy Holidays hung over the teller windows.
In the trust department, Marcie was already busy at her computer. She looked up and smiled at Kimberly, but her fingers never left the keyboard.
Kimberly hung up her coat, then walked back through the reception area to the cafeteria, where she poured herself a cup of hot water and dumped a teabag into it. Several women from the mortgage banking department were clustered around a couple of Formica-topped tables. They drank coffee and nibbled on doughnuts as they talked and laughed before they had to head downstairs.
Kimberly spoke to Kelly and Annie, women she’d worked with in the mortgage department, then turned to head back to her office. She didn’t get far. Bill Zealander, his face flushed, marched stiffly into the room. “I need to talk to you,” he announced.
Kimberly refused to be cowed. “So talk.”
He glanced at the women gossiping at the roundtable. “Not here.”
“Why not?”
His lips compressed, and behind his glasses his eyes slitted. “Because this is private. Okay?”
“Fine, Bill.” Kimberly wasn’t in the mood to argue. She left her teacup, followed Bill out of the cafeteria, explained where she’d be to Marcie, then strode through the door of Bill’s office. “Okay, what’s up?” she asked, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. She didn’t like his high-handed attitude, and she didn’t bother sitting down. Instead she crossed her arms impatiently and waited for the storm that was sure to hit.
Bill stood on the other side of the desk, his back to a bank of windows as he fiddled with the knot of his tie. “I want to know what’s going on with the Juniper trust.”
“I thought you said this was personal.”
“It is.” He slid her a glance that was meant to cut her to the quick. It didn’t. “You and I both know that you’re mishandling the account.”
“I’m what?” she demanded, floored.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Kimberly, admit it. You can’t even handle the heirs. Every other day Henry Juniper’s crying on your shoulder. And from what I understand, Carole is planning to contest the will. You’ve had to ask for extra help from operations to make sure all the dividends were paid. And you can barely keep your mind on business.”
“What’re you talking about?”
He yanked off his glasses and polished them with a tissue. “The custody hearing for your daughter.”
Kimberly crossed the room and leaned over his desk. “What do you know about that?”
He gestured with the hand holding his wire-rimmed glasses. “It’s common knowledge, Kim. Robert Fisher’s a biggie around here. And it’s no secret that you’ve hired some has-been attorney with a vendetta to get to Fisher. If you ask me, you’re playing with fire.”
“No one’s asking you anything,” she said, stung. It took all of her strength to stay calm. “And what I do with my personal life is none of your business.”
“I know. But you’re obviously under strain. You’ve got more important things to think about than business.”
“You’re way out of line, Bill,” she said. He shrugged and polished the lenses of his glasses again. Seeing him in a dark suit, in relief against the windows, set off a memory of another tall man—a man dressed in dark blue, a man polishing his goggles after night skiing. She didn’t move, couldn’t believe that her mind was leaping to such conclusions. And yet.... Her mouth went dry.
“Now, look, I’m just trying to help you out,” he was saying. He smiled benignly and slipped the glasses onto his nose. “I could handle the Juniper trust, get Henry and Carole working together rather than at cross-purposes, at least for a while, until you get your personal life back on track.”
“My life is on track.”
“Get real, Kim.”
“Do you ski, Bill?” she asked suddenly, deciding she’d had enough of his arrogant insinuations.
“Do I what?” he asked, taken aback.
“Ski.”
“Yes, but what—” he stopped suddenly, and a red flush climbed steadily up his neck.
She couldn’t believe his reaction. “Have you been following me?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I don’t think so.” So furious she was shaking, she said, “I’ve just had this feeling lately that someone was watching me. And I thought I saw you up on the mountain night skiing.”
He laughed nervously and reached into his suit pocket for a piece of nicotine gum. “Now you’ve really gone off the deep end.”
“Have I?”
“Kimberly—”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re up to, Bill, but I don’t like it. Stay the hell out of my life.” Spinning on her heel, she strode straight into her office and resisted the urge to slam the door.
Her temples throbbed. Taking deep breaths, she tried to think straight. Had Bill Zealander, in his efforts to further himself, actually taken to following her? But why? And what were all those cracks about Robert being an important client at the bank? She felt a cold lump settle in her heart. Did Zealander’s spying have something to do with the custody hearing? “Oh, God,” she whispered prayerfully.
Her headache pounded behind her eyes.
She thought about talking to Eric Compton, but discarded the idea. Compton hated office in-fighting and petty jealousy, and she didn’t blame him. Besides, she had no proof. No, she’d keep this to herself. At least until she saw Jake again.
Bill Zealander had known she’d hired an attorney—presumably Jake. So, why the remark about a has-been lawyer with a vendetta?
She went back to the cafeteria, found her now-tepid cup of tea and reheated it. Then she stormed back to her office, located a small bottle of aspirin in her purse and swallowed two of the bitter tablets.
“Forget about Zealander,” she told herself as she clicked open her briefcase and pulled out several thick files. She didn’t have time to deal with penny-ante personality problems.
The intercom buzzed and Marcie announced that Henry Juniper was on line one. Kimberly smiled, grateful for once for the distraction. Things were back to normal.
* * *
Jake finally connected with Ron Koski Monday afternoon. He stopped by Ron’s office, a small three-room suite tucked between a maid service and a travel agency in Oregon City.
Ron’s furniture consisted of a desk, two chairs, a small table and a credenza. A plate-glass window offered a view of Willamette Falls, a railroad crossing and smokestacks from a nearby paper mill. White clouds of steam rose over the city, melding with the gray sky.
Ron, in need of a shave, looked up when Jake strode in. “About time you showed up.” Seated at his desk, his blond crew cut on the longish side, he offered Jake his hand.
“I’ve called you
three times since yesterday.” Jake clasped Ron’s hand and shook it firmly. They’d been friends since high school. And Ron was one of two people Jake trusted with his life. Diane Welby was the other. And now, of course, there was Kimberly Bennett.
Ron waved him into one of the side chairs. “I’ve been on a stakeout. But I thought you’d want to know that the police are definitely on to Fisher.” He reached behind him, found a thermos of coffee and poured two cups.
Jake took the cup he was offered and dropped into a chair near the desk. “The police have been on to him before.”
“I know, and there’s always the chance he’ll get away.” Ron shrugged. “But the D.A. won’t go for anything less than an open-and-shut case. He can’t afford to go after Fisher without anything else. Too much public embarrassment.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I’ve got my sources.” Ron grinned and suddenly slammed his hand down on the desk. “Sorry, I hate spiders,” he said, grabbing a tissue and cleaning up the remnants of the bug, tossing it into the trash.
“Brecken? Is he talking again?” Jake took a sip of coffee. Bitter and hot, it burned all the way down his throat.
“Nope, Brecken’s been tightlipped, but trust me, this source is good.”
“When will it go down?”
“Don’t know.”
Jake was worried. The timing and the set-up were all wrong. “Why hasn’t Fisher gotten wind of it?”
Ron frowned. “Maybe he has.”
“Will he run?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. He’s got a lot of ties here in Portland—it would be hard to pull up stakes.”
That it would, Jake thought gloomily. Especially if Fisher intended to hang around long enough to fight Kimberly in court. Unless, of course, Fisher took the law into his own hands.
Cold certainty settled in the small of his back. Of course Fisher would run. His gut twisted, and it took all his self-control not to run out of the office, grab Kimberly and Lindsay and hide them somewhere safe. Robert Fisher was running scared and if he really wanted his daughter with him, he’d just take her. “Give me all the details,” he said to Ron, his voice short.
“I don’t have many.”
“What?”
“My source gave me a little information, but she didn’t blow the whole operation.”
“She?”
Ron smiled slyly. “Okay . . . this is what I know. . . .”
* * *
The last person Kimberly expected to run into on her way out of the bank that night was Robert. But there he was, big as life, surrounded by bank bigwigs again. And Bill Zealander within the group.
Dread crept up her spine.
She hadn’t seen Robert in the offices of First Cascade for a while, and now he seemed to be there every other day. He saw her approach, but didn’t bother to smile. In fact his face seemed strained, his lips a little white, and his eyes were so cold she actually shivered.
Robert and entourage disappeared into the elevator. Marcie was wrapping a wool scarf around her neck and had already slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Wait,” Kimberly called as the elevator doors closed.
“Sorry, boss, I’m outta here,” Marcie teased.
“No, I don’t need anything, just some information.”
Marcie grinned. “You’ve got five minutes. I’m meeting Glen downstairs.”
“Do you know what’s going on with Bill and Robert Fisher?”
Marcie, who always had an ear open to office gossip, shrugged and swept her bangs under the red scarf. “Nothing specific, but I do know that Bill’s been busy lately. A lot of closed-door meetings.”
“With Robert?”
Marcie nodded. “Once in a while.”
Kimberly gulped and tried not to panic.
“As for Fisher, I think he’s moving some money around.”
“Within the bank?”
“I guess. Or maybe he’s transferring it to another branch or something.” She pulled out her compact and checked her makeup, then brushed a fleck of mascara from her cheek.
Kimberly’s mouth went dry. Something was going on. Something big. “How do you know this?”
Marcie grinned. “From Heather. She knows everything.”
And Heather was Bill Zealander’s secretary. Images flashed through Kimberly’s mind, pictures of Bill trotting after Robert when he was in the bank, a lone skier watching her with Jake, a man lingering near the lamppost across her street.
“Is something wrong?” Marcie asked, staring at her as she clicked her compact shut and stuffed it back into her purse.
Kimberly forced a tight smile. “I don’t know. But thanks.”
“Any time. And I’ll check with Heather, see if she knows anything else.” She waved as she walked to the elevators.
Kimberly picked up the phone on Marcie’s desk. With quaking fingers, she dialed her home. The phone rang three times before Lindsay’s voice called, “Hello?”
Kimberly’s knees went weak. She sank against the desk. “Oh, hi, honey, how’re you? Was school okay today?”
“It was crummy. Bobby Hendricks kicked me. I got him back, though. I pinched him in the neck!” Lindsay launched into a blow-by-blow account of her day at school while Kimberly battled against sudden tears.
“Well, you certainly had an interesting day,” Kimberly said before Arlene took over the phone and assured her that nothing was out of the ordinary and she was, as usual, watching Lindsay like a hawk.
“Now, don’t you change your plans,” Arlene admonished. “You go along and do some shopping before you come home.”
Christmas shopping! She’d forgotten all about it. “I think I’d better come straight home.”
“Hogwash! Lindsay and I are knee-deep in a project here, anyway. We’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“All right, just be careful,” Kimberly replied.
“I always am.”
After hanging up, she took the elevator downstairs to the lobby and walked out the main doors of the bank. The Santas on every street corner rang bells, shoppers trooped along the ice-glazed streets and store windows glowed with elegant Christmas displays.
The night air was crisp and cold, and Kimberly determined that for the next few hours she’d get lost in the dizzying, light-hearted spirit of Christmas shopping and leave her worries behind.
She glanced over her shoulder twice, just to make sure no one was following her, then she ducked into a department store and headed straight for the toy department.
Tonight she’d find the perfect gift for Lindsay and maybe something special for Jake, as well.
Jake. Thank God he was on her side.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ben Kesler’s smile said it all: smug, self-confident and pleased with himself. Dressed in an expensive wool suit, he leaned back in his desk chair and tented his hands under the beginning of a double chin. A Rolex peaked from beneath his starched white cuff, while diamonds glittered in his tight clasp and cufflinks. Yep, Ben had money and he wore it, Jake thought, eyeing the attorney with distaste.
His hair was thick and blond, trimmed neatly, his skin copper brown and his eyes a watery shade of blue. He looked as if he worked with weights and spent his extra hours inside a tanning booth.
Jake didn’t mince words. “You said you wanted to work out a deal.”
“That’s right. On the Fisher case.”
Jake crossed his arms over his chest and waited. He noticed the mirrored bar recessed behind teak doors. The thick gray carpet, the coiled paneling and various objects of art placed strategically around the room on the twenty-eighth floor. The office smelled of interior design, and Jake’s lips twisted at the thought of his tiny office in West Linn.
Ben leaned forward. “I don’t have to tell you that Mr. Fisher wants custody of his daughter very badly. He’s willing to go to great lengths to have her with him.”
“What lengths?”
“Five hundred thousand dollar
s.”
Jake raised an eyebrow. “Half a million dollars? He wants to buy custody?”
Ben sat up and grinned even wider. “Mr. Fisher knows that Ms. Bennett has had to struggle. Working long hours, hiring an elderly woman as a babysitter to make ends meet. He thinks now that he should have been fairer with her during the divorce.” Kesler drummed his ringed fingers. “He’s willing to make it up to her.”
“As I understand it, he didn’t want custody then.”
“He’s changed his mind.” Ben lifted a palm, and his eyes grew sharp. “You know how it is, Jake. During a divorce emotions run high, tempers flare—sometimes the best or most equitable decisions are passed by.”
“So I’ve heard,” Jake mentioned dryly as a secretary, tall and dark-haired with a trim figure and green eyes, stepped into the room. Quietly she left a tray of coffee on the corner of Kesler’s desk.
“Anything else?” she asked, glancing quickly at Jake before turning back to Kesler.
“Not now.” He waved her away, and she slid obediently out of the room. Jake half expected her to bow in the doorway. He felt sick.
“Anyway,” Kesler continued, offering Jake a cup and picking up a mug with his initials engraved on it, “Fisher thinks he was hasty. He wants Kimberly to have all of the creature comforts she was used to when she was married to him.”
“In exchange for custody.”
Ben smiled as if to say, “What could be fairer?”
“She won’t go for it.”
“You don’t know—”
“I know.”
“But half a million dollars is nothing to sneeze at.”
“Neither is a child.” Jake got to his feet, looking down his nose at Kesler. The man, and his Rolex and gold rings, was pathetic. How had he ever been jealous of him?
“Robert Fisher isn’t used to taking no for an answer,” Ben reminded.
“Maybe it’s time he got used to it.” Jake started for the door, and Kesler sighed heavily.
“Fisher will up the ante.”
“No dice.”
“But—”
“I’ll see you in court, Kesler.” Jake strode through the door and let it slam shut behind him. As he did, he heard Ben swear loudly—a stream of expletives that would have made a truck driver blush. Maybe Kesler wasn’t so bad after all. With a smile Jake sauntered down the hallway, nodded to the dark-haired secretary and took the elevator to the first floor. It felt good to get under Kesler’s skin. Damn good. Now, if only he could best him at his own game.