“Your innocence?” he said, his tone mocking. “Pretending to leave town and disappearing when you knew charges had been brought against you does not leave you innocent. Entering a building and going through files you have no right to tamper with does not leave you innocent.”
Diane clenched her teeth in anger as she looked at him. “What’s happened in the past is proof enough that you already believe me to be guilty of fraud but I’m not. It will only be a matter of time before I prove it.”
Rick stood silently, not moving, before he spoke again. “This other person you talked about, the one that believes in your innocence—is this the person you’ve been staying with?”
Diane hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously. “Yes.”
“Do you realize your staying there implicated that person, as well?”
“She only wanted to help.”
“At great expense to herself,” Rick said callously. He stood up, stepped away from his desk and began walking about the room. Diane watched him, inwardly gauging his next step. It was only a matter of seconds before he called the police. She could sense it from his stern expression.
“Rick,” Diane addressed him again, hating the pleading tone that had crept into her voice. “If you would give me the chance, I could show you what I’ve found out about Mr. Keaton. If what I’ve discovered doesn’t persuade you at all to believe in my innocence, I promise I will voluntarily give myself up. But you’ve got to at least give me that chance.”
Rick slowly turned his head, looking directly at her. She could sense the warring emotions inside him as he struggled with her request. “I’ll do it on one condition,” he finally said.
“What’s that?”
“That you let me meet this friend of yours.”
Diane inwardly winced. Agreement with his request would put Liz in a precarious position, one which she might not consent to. Rick certainly saw this as his chance to execute justice against them both if it came to that but Diane’s only hope lay in Liz’s cooperation.
After sitting quietly for a few moments, Diane got up from her seat and walked to the phone on Rick’s desk. She picked up the receiver, turning her back against Rick as she punched in Liz’s number. “Hello?” came Liz’s groggy voice after several long rings.
Diane roughly cleared her throat. “This is Diane.”
“Diane? Don’t you realize what time it is? It’s past two in the morning.”
“I called because I’m in trouble,” Diane said.
A long, tension-filled pause followed. “Where are you?” Liz asked.
“I’m at the R & J. I’m here with Rick Embleton.”
Diane could hear Liz’s audible moan as she absorbed the information.
“I told Rick what I found out about Mr. Keaton,” Diane explained, sifting meticulously through her words. “He agreed to let me show him the information as long as I let him meet you first.”
The silence that followed seemed deafening. “You realize what he’s doing,” Liz responded, her own voice tinged with fear. “Don’t you see it? He wants to frame me as an accomplice.”
“You could be right.”
“Have you told him who I am?”
“No.”
Liz’s breathing sounded shaky and tension-filled. “What happens if I don’t agree to meet with him?”
Diane closed her eyes, fighting the emotion that welled up inside her. “He’ll turn the matter over to the authorities,” she said. Diane clenched and re-clenched her hand about the receiver, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I know what I’m asking puts you at risk but please—please—give me this one last chance. I believe I’ve found something that will help prove my innocence. You’ve got to let Rick meet you. Please help me once more.”
Diane could have counted the milliseconds that passed as she waited for Liz’s response. “I’ll leave the door unlocked,” Liz said quietly. “Just walk in.”
Diane shakily set the receiver back in place before she turned to face Rick. “She’s waiting for us,” she informed him, forcing herself to meet his unreadable eyes.
Rick paused only a second before he answered. “We’ll take my car.”
Diane followed him out of the office, down the hallway and toward the parking lot. She held her aching arm tightly against her, trying to ignore its painful throbbing as she stiffly settled herself in the front of Rick’s car. It was the same car he’d driven when they had dated. She blocked her mind against the memories that surfaced and eddied about her, forcing herself to stare abstractedly out the window as she gave Rick directions to Liz’s home. Diane immediately exited when the car stopped in front of Liz’s home. Rick followed closely behind.
The house remained almost completely dark when they entered. As Diane turned on the front room light, Liz stepped out from the hallway covered in her huge, thick robe, her hair unkempt, her chin tilted in stubborn determination when she faced Rick. Diane watched Rick’s reaction as he took in the scene. His brows furrowed somewhat as he recognized Liz as the reporter he’d spoken to earlier but he remained silent, his features unreadable.
“Let me show you what I’ve found,” Diane confronted Rick before he could say anything. She gestured toward the kitchen table where papers were still scattered after her afternoon discoveries. Rick walked up beside her as she picked up the huge file she had kept on J. D. Keaton. His eyes widened involuntarily as he took in the immense mound but he still did not say anything. “I’ve been through the company’s records and gathered information sheets from each of the accounts Mr. Keaton brought in since I left the R & J,” Diane explained, lifting one of the pages so Rick could see it. “Each one, as you see, has been dated and signed by Mr. Keaton. I’ve filed each of these records in the order of when the policy period begins for each insured. I made a list of every account number on this sheet of paper.” She held it up for Rick to see. He took it, his jaw set, his gaze steady as he quickly scanned the contents. “If you’ll notice,” Diane continued, “on the right hand I made a list of a string of files interspersed throughout the rest. They begin with 200 instead of the 100 all the others start with, not in line with usual company protocol.”
“What we both think,” Liz put in bravely, coming up beside Rick, “is that Mr. Keaton has been the one all along who swindled money from your company. Diane was effectively used as a cover-up.”
The lines in Rick’s forehead deepened as he slowly, painstakingly read over the list. One brow had been raised but his features remained grim and hard. He set the list down, opened up the file beneath him and lifted out a few of the pages, openly scrutinizing them. His eyes went back and forth between the sheets and their assigned numbers, checking and re-checking them.
Liz stepped back from Rick’s side, coming closer to Diane so that she, too, could take a closer look when she suddenly noticed Diane’s injured arm. “Diane? What in the world happened to you?” she asked in amazement as she tugged the blood-tinged T-shirt away from her wound.
“I…”
“Go get it cleaned up,” Liz ordered immediately. “I’ve got a first aid kit under the bathroom sink.”
“I’ll be right back,” Diane said as she turned away from them both, going directly to the bathroom down the hall. When she turned on the light, she gaped in repulsion at her reflection in the mirror—her clamped and matted hair, her puffy, red eyes and her pale white pallor. She leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted, before she bent down to find the peroxide in the first aid kit. She found the small brown bottle and opened it, pouring the contents over her wound, grimacing as the dirt and blood were washed away. Some of the cuts were deep so she covered them with a thick salve and bandaged them up. She managed to work a brush through her tangled hair before she went to the bedroom to grab a pair of clean exercise clothes. She changed into them, carefully protecting her injured arm as she did.
By the time she walked back into the kitchen, Rick and Liz had the papers from the file spread across the ent
ire kitchen counter. All the lights were on, shining brilliantly above them. They were both studying the maze of white in silence. Rick’s head was bent intently over the last few sheets.
“Let’s separate the ones that begin with 200,” Rick suggested as Diane walked up to the end of the counter. Rick had been so caught up in his efforts that he didn’t notice her arrival. Diane glanced at his profile and for the first time felt a reluctant—if uncertain—hope. He had a look of such intense concentration that it could possibly mean he, too, had been taken off guard by what lay beneath him.
“Did they change the filing system since I worked there?” Diane asked, announcing her presence.
Rick didn’t even glance at her. “Not to my knowledge.”
“So you find this unusual, as well?” Liz hazarded the query.
“I don’t have enough information to answer that yet,” he responded evasively. He didn’t speak again as he concentrated on the task at hand, helping Liz pull out the questionable files. When they were finished, Liz walked over to the refrigerator, grabbed three drinks and then invited Diane and Rick into the front room to sit. Rick didn’t let the softened mood pervade. With the files in hand, he took the seat across from Liz and began to question her, setting his drink on the end table.
“This so-called evidence aside,” he said, indicating the papers they’d gathered, “Diane tells me you believe she is innocent.”
Liz, refusing to be intimidated by his behavior, matched his movements and set her own drink down. “I do,” she answered. “I had a hard time believing her story initially but after my own investigation, I find it impossible not to believe her.”
Diane watched the two of them, inwardly lauding Liz for her stalwart stance in her behalf.
“Whatever you’ve found, you believe you have enough evidence to let her stay here—under your roof—while the police are looking for her,” Rick observed.
Liz didn’t even flinch. “Yes. I told Diane when she first came that I would give her a week to help her investigate this. I agreed not to contact the police during that time.”
“She initially came to you for help?”
“She did.”
“During that week’s time,” Rick continued, “you believe you found enough information to let her stay here, despite the stories in the paper you, yourself, work for, despite the claims of the police and despite my statements when you interviewed me?”
“Yes,” Liz answered, nodding. “I did.”
“You also believe Diane hasn’t produced this evidence on her own to clear her name?”
There was a flash of anger in Liz’s dark eyes. “I pride myself in thinking I possess at least some sense of objectivity which obviously you do not possess, Mr. Embleton. Nor does her grandfather. Nor do company personnel who framed her. And if you’d care to listen for once instead of voicing your unfair prejudices, I could share my findings with you—that is if you can let your biases go for even one moment. I have to say this: How can Diane ever hope to win with you so predisposed against her? You haven’t even given her a shot at a fair trial and in your mind, she’s already tried and convicted.”
Rick sat impassively, studying Liz carefully. “Let me ask you one thing. Do you stand to gain anything by Diane’s acquittal in this matter?”
Liz squared her shoulders and leaned toward him. “I stand to gain the satisfaction of knowing I helped establish the truth. If you find that hard to believe, it’s no wonder that you left Diane a long time ago without giving her a chance to explain herself or clear her name. Even from the start, you never had the slightest doubt as to her guilt. You supposedly loved her but not enough to confront her and let her explain the situation. I certainly don’t envy that kind of love. Not at all.”
The subtle barb hit home. Rick’s eyes narrowed noticeably as her statement sunk in. Diane tensed awkwardly, cringing from the tainted memories of the past but she still kept her eyes on Rick’s face. “All right,” Rick finally said, leaning back against the couch. “Whatever you’ve got to say, I’ll listen.”
“Then let’s start from the beginning,” Liz said almost immediately. “You said you believed Diane swindled money from your company.”
“Yes.”
“You yourself mentioned that she probably used it on her grandmother. While you were dating, you remember no other items she bought other than those things she bought with or for her grandmother.”
“True.”
“Do you realize,” Liz told him with a callous edge to her voice, “that her parents died when she was younger, leaving her with money from her father’s life insurance policy?”
“Of course.”
“Did you also realize,” Liz continued, “that Diane put this money into an account, an account drawn on only during her college years and during the period shortly before her grandmother’s death?”
Rick looked skeptical. “How would you have access to information like that?”
“Walter Mitchell, Vice President of First Thrift. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”
“That doesn’t prove money was not taken by her from the R & J,” Rick countered.
“No, but it could cause reasonable doubt,” Liz shot back, “especially considering the doctor, who her grandfather claimed they secretly went to see, had no records of any visits by her grandmother—ever.”
Rick had been watching Liz carefully but she didn’t wait for his response. “Let’s move onto Mr. Keaton,” Liz continued. “He claimed concern for Diane, an ‘unwillingess to hurt an already grief-stricken young woman.’ Do you realize he spoke with me, a relatively unknown reporter, for forty full minutes naming dates, times, questionable activities—anything to substantiate her guilt? You call that concern?”
“His own reputation is at stake,” Rick put in.
“And it wasn’t before?” Liz countered. “If he’s so honorable, as you seem to think he is, then why didn’t he turn Diane in earlier? He worked with your father since the company’s formation. Why didn’t he think you or your father could handle the information on Diane, even without taking it to the police, if he truly was concerned about her welfare? Have you ever considered the possibility that Mr. Keaton was the one who might have had something to hide? He let his job go easily and with hardly a fight after years with your firm. Why would he do that? He left because, as the files Diane has found today indicate, he is the one who’s been taking money from the business and for a much longer period and in greater amounts than Diane has been accused of.”
Rick shook his head. “He would have been discovered long before now.”
“Not if there was another party involved who helped cover his tracks,” Liz said. “We believe there is another party involved. You need to face a few facts. One, you left the company because you believed Diane was guilty of swindling money from your company. Whoever it was that took the money was free to do as he or she pleased. If it was Diane who had been at fault, why did she leave the R & J two or three months after you left town? No one with such a sweet deal would end it, would they?”
“Her grandmother had passed away. She no longer had a need,” Rick argued.
“Or maybe Mr. Keaton, the man who is proclaiming Diane’s guilt, was able to continue to do what he had been doing and kept swindling money from your company. Don’t you see it? We’ve found substantial evidence in his files that indicate he has been up to something illegal and every single piece of evidence we’ve found is dated after the time Diane left the R & J. Doesn’t that cause any doubt at all in your mind? Doesn’t that give you some reason to believe that Diane is not the guilty party here nor has she ever been?”
A long, stressful silence followed. Diane couldn’t help but stir in her seat as she watched the influx of emotions across Rick’s features, emotions which ranged from blatant disbelief to reluctant suspicion. Diane finally turned toward him. “Rick,” she said, waiting until his dark brown eyes were fixed upon her. “I did not take any money from your company. I would never h
ave done anything like that. You or your father would have given me any money I asked for, if it came to that. I didn’t need to steal from you.” She stalled, taking in a fortifying breath. “Someone who knew us well, who knew us intimately enough to know about our relationship—that person set us up. He or she—or they—realized your emotional involvement with me would taint your reaction to the situation if you were persuaded that I’d been untrue to you. You must agree that it did—to the point where you left without even talking to me or confronting me about what you’d discovered. You believed me guilty and left.” Diane took her hand and ran it tensely across her brows before she spoke again. “For some reason, in your mind you are so deeply set in your prejudices against me that you won’t even let what you see in front of you, in black and white, persuade you at all to believe in my innocence. I am innocent. The truth will—and is—coming out.”
Rick stared at her. “Your grandfather believes you’re guilty.”
Diane forced herself to control the resentful anger that leapt up inside her. “He, like you, believes I wanted to help my grandmother. But you and I both know he relied heavily on your testimony and accusations. He, as you might remember, trusted and admired you.”
Rick leaned toward her. “If what you are telling me is true, then why did you run? Why did you skip town if you knew you were innocent?”
Diane’s hands fisted in her lap. “I was frightened about what was happening around me. Everything was snowballing out of control. Even my grandfather believed you,” she said. “I knew if he could believe this, anyone could. I felt helpless. And hopeless. I had nothing left to do but leave and try to find some way to prove my innocence.”
“How did you get into the R & J?” Rick asked.
“That was my idea,” Liz interjected. “I got her a position on the cleaning crew so she could have access to the company’s files.”
Rick hesitated, thinking intently. “The copies you left at the R & J tonight,” Rick went on. “Where did they come from?”
Where Lies End Page 7