“This young woman was going through an intensely emotional time,” Rick Embleton had been quoted as saying, not one word of their past relationship mentioned. “I believe her desire to help an ailing grandmother lay at the bottom of the fraud. Although charges are being pressed, this will be taken into account. What we’re worried about now, essentially, is vindication of the company and its reputation which is sorely needed after the recent articles she ran against the R & J, articles I believe she wrote in order to cover up her fraudulent activities.”
Rick went on to explain that J. D. Keaton’s forced retirement came about because of Mr. Keaton’s prior knowledge of Diane’s dishonesty. “We discovered only recently that Mr. Keaton had known about sums of money taken by Miss Benson but he claims his concern over this young woman’s tragedy caused him to go against his better judgment and keep her deception a secret. For that reason, we felt he’d compromised his position as a general manager and we therefore let him go.”
Diane gaped in astonishment as she read that section again and again, aghast at the lies heaped against her. J. D. Keaton claimed allegiance to her, a concerned granddaughter of an ailing grandmother, but his words had to be a blatant cover-up either of his own criminal actions or someone else’s. She sat for a moment in agonized thought. Mr. Keaton was seemingly a kind, gentle man and she had worked with him for a short time. Why would he have any reason to lie about her? The years and years he had worked for Rick’s father seemed to speak for his innocence but his forced withdrawal from the company had to indicate something else, didn’t it?
What could she do to find out? How could she go about clearing her name and pointing the blame toward the guilty party, whoever it might be? Was there anyone she could get to help? Diane sat frozen in thought, pondering her next step. The police? Should she go to them? No. She could hardly clear her name from a jail cell. Rick? Her grandfather? Neither would believe her. Then who? Diane thought of her friends and associates in town. Her mind busily scanned through them, searching for a possible ally. Liz, her co-worker at the paper. Could she be a possibility? Liz was not a close personal friend, only a business associate but a well-respected and competent journalist. Her personality seemed brash. She had often in their association come off as coldly critical and somewhat cynical. Yet those two traits suddenly became strangely compelling. Liz’s willingness to treat every event she reported on with scrutinizing yet objective intensity might give her—Diane—the tools she needed to solve her own situation. Should she try? The chance that Liz might refuse to work with her and turn her over to the police loomed as a real and frightening possibility. But sitting here, doing nothing, seemed even worse.
Diane contemplated approaching Liz during the remainder of the afternoon, turning over every repercussion, every recourse or action which might occur if contact with Liz were made. Despite every obstacle, opting to get in touch with Liz seemed like the best solution—at least the best chance for a solution—for her predicament. If she could somehow appeal to Liz’s innate drive for a good story…
Later that evening, after Diane ordered room service, she made the call she had been anticipating all day. She sat on her bed, propped the hotel phone against her ear, and then dialed. Her hand shook slightly as she punched the stiff buttons. Her breathing stilled as the first muffled ring came over the earpiece. “Hello?” Liz answered. Diane stalled, gulping on a dry throat. “Hello?” Liz repeated again, this time impatiently.
“Liz?”
“Who is this?”
Diane paused uncomfortably. “This is Diane Benson.”
The answering silence became unnerving. Diane took in a deep, unsteady breath, her heart pounding wildly. “Liz, I know what you’re thinking. I called because I need your help.”
“The police are looking for you, Diane,” Liz said. “They came by the office today.”
“I know. I read the article. Listen to me: I didn’t do it. I swear I didn’t. Someone set me up. I don’t know who it was, but someone did. I need your help to find out who it was. I need your help clearing my name.”
Another lengthy pause followed. “How do you expect me to believe this?”
Diane inwardly groaned, shutting her eyes in unexpressed misery. “I can’t expect you to believe me. I can only hope that you will. You’re the only chance I’ve got. Do you think I’d be calling you if I were guilty? Do you think I’d risk talking to you if I were at fault?”
Another pause followed. “Where are you?”
“At the resort.”
“Why did you leave town?”
“I was shocked about the charges and allegations against me. Even my grandfather believes I’m guilty. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Don’t you know your leaving implicated you even further?” Liz asked.
“What else could I do? If my own grandfather thinks I’m guilty, don’t you think it would be easy to convince a judge and jury? The only chance I’ve got is to prove my innocence. That’s why I need your help.”
“Why me?” Liz asked.
“Because,” Diane said slowly, “I believe you have the ability to help me. And I think the possibility of a story, if we can uncover the truth, would be enticing to you.”
Liz let out a reluctant breath. “I could be in big trouble if anyone found out I’d been in contact with you. I shouldn’t even be talking to you like this.”
“I’m innocent,” Diane said, “and I’m in trouble right now. I deserve a chance to prove my innocence. I need that chance. Will you help me? Please, Liz. Please.”
“Don’t you realize it’s a long shot even if you’re not guilty?”
Diane hesitated. “Yes.”
“Do you have any proof at all of your innocence?”
“Only my word. I do know that J. D. Keaton is lying about my involvement in the fraud. Either he has something to do with this or he’s covering for someone who does.”
“That’s all you have? Hearsay?”
“Yes.”
Liz sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you’ll help me,” Diane said in desperation. “Say you’ll give me a chance to help prove my innocence.”
“I can’t promise you anything.”
“Will you at least promise you’ll try?”
“I don’t know,” Liz answered, obviously stalling.
“Please,” Diane begged, becoming almost frantic. “I need your help. You’re the only chance I’ve got.”
Liz remained silent. Diane could almost feel the palpable tension as Liz thought over the decision. Diane bit her lip until it hurt, waiting for Liz to answer. A few minutes passed with the strained-filled silence between them. “We need to talk about this further before I can decide what I should do,” Liz finally said. “I want you to come to my place as soon as possible.”
“Your place?”
“Yes.” Liz waited a few telling seconds before she spoke again. “You do realize I could call the police and have them waiting here for you, don’t you?”
Diane stilled, holding her breath. “I’ll have to take that chance,” she finally said. “I don’t have anywhere else to turn.” She didn’t say goodbye before she slipped the receiver back into its place.
Chapter Three
When Diane drove up to Liz’s dimly-lit home forty minutes later, her heart flip-flopped when she saw the hazy outline of a car in the driveway. The nearer she approached, the more she could see that it was not a police car but Liz’s compact car, moved out so as to give Diane needed space inside the garage for privacy. Diane slowly pulled in, her heart still beating rapidly from her initial reaction. She stepped out of her car to the side door. Liz opened it after a few brief knocks.
Liz carefully watched Diane as she entered. Her dark eyes carried the same scrutinizing expression she almost always wore, almost hawk-like in its intensity. Despite being several years older than Diane, Liz had remained single and lived alone, completely immersed in her career, foregoing a soc
ial life to pursue her lifelong goal of becoming a well-known journalist. She became, in those few seconds that followed, an aloof, critical interviewer, not a close business associate. Diane felt some concern about her attitude but tried to remain calm. “Have a seat on the couch,” Liz ordered.
Diane walked into the front room, uncomfortable under the bright, glaring lights above her. Liz followed, her arms folded tightly in front of her, her posture rigid. “I need to be honest with you about something,” Liz said. “I have a hard time believing your story when you claim even your grandfather doesn’t.” Liz’s dark black eyes, darker than her short black hair, continued their scrutiny as Diane took a seat on her beige leather couch. Liz sat across from her, the couch giving way before her slightly heavy form.
Diane sat deathly still, uncertain of Liz’s next move. Had she called the police already? Were they on their way? “What are you trying to tell me?”
Liz paused, the ensuing silence almost deafening. “My only association with you has been with the paper and that’s only been for a couple of years. Yet your grandfather raised you, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t believe you’re innocent but you expect me to?”
Diane looked directly at her. “All I want from you right now is your help. Even if you don’t believe me, help give me a chance to prove my innocence. That’s all I’m asking.”
Liz sighed heavily, uncertainty outlining her features. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you are guilty. Where does that leave me?”
Diane stared at Liz, her eyes deadlocked on her grim, businesslike features. “It’s a choice you’re going to have to make. But if you’re not willing to help me, please let me find someone who might.”
Liz got up from the couch and started pacing the floor, her mouth set in a thin, determined line. She abruptly stopped, looking over at Diane. “I’ll consider helping you if you agree to something yourself. I’ll let you stay here with me for a week—one week—during which time I’ll do everything I can to help you. If by the end of the week I can’t find any evidence that might vindicate you, I’m turning you over to the police.”
“But…”
“It’s the only way I’ll even consider it,” Liz said.
Diane let out a thin, shaky breath, her throat dry and constricted. “What other option do I have?”
“As far as I’m concerned, none. I think what I’m offering you is fair considering the fact that I’m putting my own career and reputation on the line.”
Diane set her face in her hands, deeply exhausted from the strain of the past two days. Liz’s offer meant only a thin, tiny pinprick of hope—one with perhaps disastrous consequences—but she didn’t have anywhere else to turn. She had to accept what Liz was offering. “All right,” Diane reluctantly replied, her tone almost hollow. “I’ll agree to that.”
Liz nodded slowly before she settled her large form on the couch, her actions once again businesslike. “I’m going to need some background to go on so tell me your side of the story.”
Diane stiffened at the blanket expression “your side of the story,” but she brushed it off as best she could. “I’m not sure where to begin. Where do you want me to start?”
“You obviously had some association with R & J Enterprises in the past. Tell me about that.”
Diane hesitated as she struggled inwardly with the events of the past, events she’d so often repressed after Rick’s leaving. “You’re aware that I worked at the R & J before I began working at the paper.”
Liz nodded.
“I used to be an office manager over their insurance department. I helped with claims, records—things like that. I didn’t like the work but stayed because Rick Embleton and I began dating. I wanted to be near him.”
“You dated Rick Embleton, the new owner?” Liz asked, surprised.
Diane nodded.
“For how long?”
“A little over a year. We were serious—very serious. I would have married him if he’d asked. Then it ended. Suddenly. He left town and went to where his father ran another branch of the business. I didn’t know why he left. Then.” Diane dipped her eyes away from Liz’s critical ones. “Now that I know about the charges brought against me, Rick must have left because he believed I stole money from his company.”
“If you were as close as you say,” Liz countered suspiciously, “why didn’t he confront you before he left? Two people ready to marry are usually quite open with each other.”
Diane lifted her hands in a helpless gesture, her brows furrowing with unexpressed hurt. “I don’t know why he left like he did. He must have felt deeply betrayed. My grandmother passed away during the time I worked there and Rick believes I took money to help her. I’m sure it hurt him to think me capable of stealing from him.”
“That’s something I don’t understand. Why would both Rick and your grandfather believe you took money to help your grandmother when both of them were close to you?”
Diane lifted her eyes, realizing the question was more a suspicion of guilt rather than an objective query, but she still answered it. “I did help my grandmother before she died. I used some of my personal money from my own savings account to help her, money that came from my father’s life insurance policy. But that’s the only money I used. I never took any money from the R & J to do it.”
“You did spend money on her,” Liz concluded.
“I took her on a few trips. I bought her some gifts. It was my way of saying I loved her and my way of saying goodbye. But I wouldn’t have stolen money to do that.”
“Yet it would certainly make it easy for someone on the outside to believe that you did,” Liz observed haughtily.
“Maybe. But I didn’t,” Diane insisted, gazing warily at Liz.
“Did your grandmother’s death occur after Rick left you?” she asked her.
“She died before he left town. He even accompanied me to the funeral.”
“Then he was dating you during the whole time you were allegedly taking money from the R & J?”
“Yes.”
Liz looked contemplative for a moment. “Did you work for the R & J after Rick left?”
“For about two months. I left as soon as I found my job with the paper. I had no reason to stay with Rick gone.”
Liz raised her brows. “Why…? Hmmm. No charges were brought against you then. Is that right? Rick believed you were guilty but no formal charges were pressed. He even let you continue working for his father’s company despite what he believed you’d done.”
“Yes.”
The information seemed to puzzle Liz. “How did Mr. Keaton become involved in all of this?”
Diane shrugged. “I don’t know. The only news I have regarding him is from the article on the website.”
“Mr. Keaton never brought charges against you, either,” Liz said, more to herself than Diane. “That does seem odd since he claims he knew about it. What was your past relationship with him?”
“He was my supervisor. We rarely talked about anything except claims or new accounts. I’m surprised Mr. Keaton would even remember the death of my grandmother except for the fact that I took time off for the funeral.”
Liz’s brows had furrowed in thought. “Was there anyone else besides Rick who knew you well at the R & J?”
“I didn’t have any close friends,” Diane said. “I knew Rick’s father well but other than that I was too involved with Rick to form anything more than a passing acquaintance.”
They both fell silent. Liz’s features had become brooding and somber as she stewed over the information. “This is a lot to think about,” she admitted, “Mr. Keaton’s relationship with you especially. I can’t promise anything but I’ll do my best during this next week to uncover what I can. I’ll work from the basis that you are innocent. But one thing I’m going to insist upon: I don’t want you to leave this house, make calls or do anything that might give me reason to distrust you. The second that happens, I’
m calling the police.”
And you’re working from the basis that I’m innocent? Diane wanted to ask. Instead she answered, “Fine.”
“Did you bring any clothes?”
“I didn’t have time to get any.”
“We can’t risk going to your place,” Liz said. “You can borrow some of mine. They’re big but they’ll have to do. Do you mind sleeping on the couch? My guest bedroom is not made up.”
“No.”
“Then we’d better turn in. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. I’ll get you something to sleep in.” Liz got up stiffly from her position and marched toward her bedroom, only stopping at the sound of Diane’s voice.
“Thanks for giving me this chance, Liz. I know you won’t regret it.”
Liz only turned half way toward her, not meeting her eyes. “I hope not,” she replied as she pivoted once more and slipped into her room.
The following week slipped into a montage of restless apprehension and unceasing anxiety for Diane. She spent the days alone, feeling like an un-welcomed intrusion, as she waited in anxious anticipation for any feedback from Liz. She didn’t hear anything. In fact, Diane scarcely saw her. Even in their brief encounters during the evenings, Liz remained distant, silent and aloof. Not once did Liz reveal anything substantial about what she was doing. She would only question Diane occasionally—almost abrasively—and then leave her alone. Diane hardly knew what to read into Liz’s uncertain actions. One afternoon Liz brought some of her work home from the office for Diane to do “so I can keep up,” she had said. Although Diane at first resented the thoughtlessness of the gesture, the work did end up becoming a healthy escape during the turbulent times she could not control.
As the week neared its end, Diane’s emotions began bordering the despair point. Liz had stayed out late the evening before and had not called. Diane had not seen her come in and she still had no inkling of what was transpiring. For all she knew, Liz was speaking to the police and was helping them set up a time to take her in. Diane’s hopes of any breakthroughs were slowly ebbing away and she hardly dared think of what might happen.
Where Lies End Page 4