“They are copies of the information sheets from Mr. Keaton’s files, those that come after the sheets you have there,” Diane explained. “I wanted to see if there were any that fell into a similar pattern.”
Rick placed the papers back down on the couch before abruptly standing. “I’m going back to the office,” he said, looking directly at Diane. “I’m going to get those papers and bring them back here. Wait for me,” he said, his eyes full of warning. “I won’t give you another chance if you run.”
Diane’s gaze met his in open resentment. “Whether or not you believe it, I wasn’t planning on running.”
She didn’t say another word as Rick turned and left the house, intent on his cause. Liz followed him to the door and closed it behind him, letting out a tired breath as she sat in the seat across from Diane. “We’re on the right track, Diane,” she said. “I feel it.”
“How can you say that?” Diane said in astonishment. “Didn’t you see his reaction?”
“He hasn’t called the police yet,” Liz countered. “That tells me more than anything else.”
Diane forced herself to hold back the emotions she felt churning inside her. “I truly hope you’re right because right now Rick is the only chance we’ve got.”
Chapter Five
After Rick had gone to pick up the papers scattered on the floor at the R & J, Liz grabbed the sheets he had left on the couch and began going through them, her dark head bent to her chest as she studied them. Diane watched her for several minutes, fighting the weariness which threatened to engulf her. Minutes continued to tick slowly by but Rick still did not return. Diane felt too tired to question the reasons why. Her arm ached, her head ached and her eyelids felt heavy. She rested them, slowly closing her lids as she leaned against the couch. Hardly realizing what she did, she slipped almost immediately into an exhausted, escaping sleep.
She awoke some time later to the drone of voices coming from the kitchen. Rick had returned and was talking in low tones to Liz. Diane could hear Liz’s occasional replies, smooth and unemotional. She set her head back down on the couch and stretched out fully, too tired to join them.
When Diane finally opened her eyes once more, she had no idea what time it was. It was still dark outside but she thought she could make out the thin shadows of early dawn. She turned her head, instantly startled to see Rick sitting in the couch across from her, still searching through the papers in his hands. He didn’t notice her so she watched him inconspicuously, her eyes half-closed as she did. There seemed to be an aura of inescapable distress about his eyes, as if he were deeply troubled. His tie had been loosened and his hair remained unkempt. Thin lines of exhaustion accented his features. He thumbed through the pages, stopped to study one occasionally and then thumbed through them once more—over and over and over again. Diane finally pushed herself up to a sitting position, brushing away the strands of hair from her face. Rick looked at her then but there was still an aloof distance in his glance. “Have you found anything in those papers?” Diane asked.
Rick set down the stack, one hand running tiredly through his hair. He seemed reluctant to talk but finally answered. “I’m not certain yet.”
Diane exhaled slowly, still able to sense his unwillingness—or inability—to believe her. “What does that mean for me?” she said. She didn’t hide the brusque undertone that had crept into her voice.
For the first time, Rick looked directly into her face, the intensity of his gaze so forceful she felt as if he were actually trying to strip away the surface and expose the layers beneath, almost as if he were trying to fathom from her countenance the truthfulness of her claims. She met his penetrating eyes without flinching. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Rick finally said. “All I can say is that I don’t know where I stand right now.”
Diane pulled up her legs against her, sitting cross-legged on the couch. “What do you plan on doing with me?”
“Nothing, as yet.” Fatigue strained his voice, making it sound hard and uncaring. He gathered the sheets and then placed them in one neat pile. “I’ve got to go home and get some rest. I have an appointment in the office.”
“On Saturday?”
“Yes.” Rick stood, picking up the pages as he did. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere today—no trips or errands, no work at the office. Nothing. I’ll be in touch with you as soon as I possibly can.”
“That’s it?” Diane questioned crisply. “My future and life are on the line and I have to sit here and wonder what it is you’re thinking?”
Rick glanced at her again, his features softening. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now. That’s all I can tell you.” He didn’t reveal anything further but turned and walked to the door in a few long strides. Diane stared at the closed door after he shut it behind him. She still felt as if everything remained up in the air, as if nothing positive had been established. Everything could come crashing down upon her and she had no way of stopping it.
Liz poked her head into the room, yawning, her sleep-laden features indicative of the late night. “Did Rick just leave?” she asked.
Diane nodded. “He made sure before he went to warn me not to go anywhere today.”
Liz came and sat nearby. “I don’t know what his plans are but he is unsettled about what we’ve found in Mr. Keaton’s files. There were three questionable files in the papers you copied yesterday. He knew you’d had no time to mark or change them, if that had been your intent. It’s the first time I could see him beginning to change his mind about you.”
“Where do we go from here?” Diane asked, upset. “Do we sit around and wait for Rick to contact the police?”
Liz looked sympathetic. “Rick won’t tell me much. He’s still reserved, as you can imagine, but you’ve got to remember something. It’s going to take him some time to get used to the idea that you might not be guilty.”
“I hate all this waiting,” Diane said impatiently. “I hate all the uncertainty. I don’t know how much longer I can withstand it.”
“I know it’s hard,” Liz acknowledged. “But think about it this way. If Rick changes his mind about your guilt, he has a lot to face. For one thing, he’ll have to realize that he left you, someone he used to love, because of someone else’s lies. That would not be an easy pill for anyone to swallow. For a man like Rick, there will be a lot of pride at stake.”
“At this point,” Diane interjected, “I don’t care one bit about his pride. I need to get my life back. I need to see my grandfather and I need to get my job back.”
“It will take time,” Liz reminded her. “Right now, we’ve got to get much more evidence against Mr. Keaton or they still might have reason to try and convict you of taking the money. Rick told me he’s been through the phony claims and it’s pretty hard evidence against you. He believes we’ll have to find a way to actually prove that you’ve been set up.”
Diane shook her head in unhidden misery. “How could we ever go about doing something like that?”
Liz watched her, her usual harsh, businesslike features filled with a tugging compassion. “We’ll find a way. If we can get Rick on our side, the task will be much easier. Don’t you see that?”
“If Rick could ever change his mind about me,” Diane countered with a note of despair. “His opinions are too deeply rooted. He’s held onto them for years.”
“Don’t give up on him yet,” Liz prodded. She went to the hall closet, grabbed a pillow and blanket and then threw them to Diane. “Here. You look exhausted. Get some more sleep. I’m going to rest awhile longer myself.” She went back to her room, closing the door behind her.
Diane bunched the pillow beneath her before lying back down on the couch. Despite the troubled thoughts that bombarded her, only moments passed before she felt her eyes growing heavy. She fell back to sleep, easing into the comfortable nothingness that had become her only escape.
When Diane awoke, heavy streams of li
ght blazed boldly through the opened window. She slowly dragged herself off the couch and to the bathroom, immediately noticing the note placed on the mirror: “Gone shopping. Be back soon. Liz.”
Instead of showering, Diane took a long, steamy bath, relishing the feel of the hot water on her skin as it washed away the grime and unpleasant memories of the evening before. Her arm felt somewhat better. She re-bandaged it after her bath, inwardly debating what her attire should be for the day. Liz had loaned her a few outfits from her belongings but Diane could scarcely go through them, yearning more than ever for her own wardrobe.
After she dressed, Diane meandered back to the kitchen, feeling almost caged. She wished she knew she could escape the stifling atmosphere of the house. Circumstances seemed even worse when she knew she couldn’t leave. She ate a small breakfast before wandering back to the couch where she picked up some of the papers Rick had left lying there. Then it struck her. Why wait for Rick’s approval to begin to investigate the information on the files? She could do it right now.
Diane went back to the kitchen and cleared off the table before she set the papers on it, scanning the addresses of each of the clients. Most of those insured lived nearby so she picked up Liz’s home phone and began with the first name, a George T. Benyon of Brown Cliffs Drive, punching in the number written beneath the address. A woman answered after a few rings. “May I speak with Mr. Benyon please?” Diane questioned immediately.
“Who?” the woman countered.
“Mr. Benyon.”
“I’m sorry. You’ve got the wrong number.” The phone clicked off.
Diane chewed her bottom lip in uncertainty. She looked online for anyone in the vicinity under the name of Benyon. She found a G. Benyon listed but the address and phone number were different than those indicated on the file. She immediately called the new number but it had been disconnected. She marked the file sheet before starting on the next one.
Day, Martin L.
Diane called the home number listed; no one answered. She checked his business phone, the number for a small used furniture company she’d often passed in her travels through town. “Martin Day?” came a surprised voice after her greeting and question. “I’m sorry but no one works here by that name.”
“Do you mind me asking how long you’ve worked there?”
“Over seven years now. Do you want me to ask anyone else if they’ve heard of him?”
“No, thanks,” Diane said. “That’s all I needed to know.” She hung up, making a notation on the file sheet.
Again and again it happened. The numbers listed on the information pages were either non-working or the people living there had never heard of the named insured. Though Diane found some matching names online and called the phone numbers assigned to them, not one of those people had heard of a Mr. J. D. Keaton or had ever taken out a policy with the R & J. When Liz walked in later, Diane had called on over half the files and had determined to call every other person listed. She had become so engrossed in her calls that she hardly lifted her head when Liz walked in with two bags overflowing with groceries. “What are you doing?” Liz questioned, coming up beside her after she’d set the bags on the counter. Diane lifted one hand, silencing her as she finished marking one of the files before holding up the sheet.
“Listen to this,” Diane said breathlessly. “I’ve called the people listed on each of these files. No one exists by these names. They aren’t even real people.”
“These are the files you pulled out from the others?” Liz questioned.
“Yes.”
“How in the world would someone get away with making files on non-existent people?” Liz asked. “Does Rick know you’ve been making these calls?”
“No. He said he’d be in touch with us later,” Diane informed her.
“Try calling him now,” Liz prodded. “We’ve got to let him know about this. Do you think he’s home sleeping?”
“He said something about meeting someone at work this morning.”
“Then try calling him at work right now,” Liz said.
Diane sighed reluctantly as she complied, punching in the number she’d long before committed to memory. After a couple of rings, Rick answered. “Rick,” Diane said after his brief, emotionless greeting. “Liz and I have found something you need to see.”
“I’m with someone right now,” he responded in a monotone. “I’ll be done in a few minutes. I’ll drop by.”
“All right,” Diane said. After she turned off the phone, she told Liz of Rick’s plans and then began phoning the others listed in the files. She had completed ten more calls by the time Rick arrived a short time later. He had dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt, somehow less intimidating than he had seemed the night before. Diane showed him the papers she had marked when he came up beside her. “These,” she said, “are file sheets on nonexistent people. Mr. J. D. Keaton has been dealing these past few years with clients who are only names on a piece of paper.”
“Diane called every number on these pages,” Liz added. “Not once has she been able to trace the number to an actual person.”
“I looked up several of the same names online,” Diane went hurriedly on, “but those people have never heard of a Mr. J. D. Keaton or taken out a policy with the R & J.”
Rick had not said a word but stood motionless, trying to absorb the information. “How many files have you called on?” he asked.
Diane quickly thumbed through the sheets. “Over thirty.”
Rick shook his head, his dark eyes narrowing into hard, unforgiving lines. “We need to go to the office and see what kind of action has been taken on these. Would you come with me, Diane?”
“Right now?” Diane asked in disbelief.
“Now would be best. Do you have any dark glasses you could wear?”
Diane glanced at Rick in astonishment. She had almost been leery of his request to accompany her until he’d mentioned the dark glasses. He was willing to let her continue this charade until they had more of the facts pieced together? Was he finally beginning to believe her?
“I’ve got some glasses she can wear,” Liz put in after Diane’s surprised hesitance. When Liz walked out of the room to get them, Diane stood and followed her, pulling her hair back and securing it before she took the glasses from Liz. “This is the best sign yet,” Liz whispered. Diane could only acknowledge her statement with a slight nod, giving her a tentative yet hopeful glance.
Diane walked with Rick out to his car, carefully avoiding his direct gaze. She remained quiet, struggling with the array of emotions that filtered through her heart. She felt grateful for the subtle changes in him yet a hidden part of her could still not let go and relax in his presence. She wanted to trust him but she felt too unsure of his feelings. The new aura his gesture had evoked remained too new, too breakable to discuss so they rode in silence to the R & J.
Rick had Diane wait in the car while he temporarily scouted out the complex. He came back a few minutes later. “Empty,” he told her. “We’ll be fine.” Diane followed his tall frame as they wound their way through the building. He let her lead him to the place she had been working. To her relief, he locked the door behind them. It was only then that she removed her glasses. “Let’s go through each of the files one by one,” Rick said as he began opening the first drawer. “I want to see what claims have been made.”
Diane began to work at his request, doing what she’d been doing during over the last several weeks. Rick seemed surprised at the dexterity and speed in which she conducted her search but she didn’t let his reaction inhibit her. She brought out the list of questionable files one by one until they had a huge stack. They then sat on the floor and began sifting through each of the folders. The process went slowly but they searched through paper after paper, file by file, until they had completed the ones Diane had called on earlier that day. Not one claim had been submitted on any of them. Rick tore into the financial records on each one, shaking his head. “All the premi
ums have been paid,” he said, his tone uncertain, “but not one claim has ever been filed. Why?”
“They’re all current,” Diane said. “Not one of these policies has been canceled.”
“To not have one claim for this many accounts is impossible.”
“Do you know what Mr. Keaton could be doing here?” Diane suddenly said. “He could be setting up these phony accounts solely to get commission on them.”
Rick thought about it for a moment. “He has enough accounts to bring in thousands of dollars commission but no one notices they’re not real because he’s not reporting any claims,” he observed, his features hardening.
“Someone would have to be aware of his huge volume of clientele,” Diane countered.
Rick glanced sideways at her. “I’m sure people noticed but who would suspect a supervisor of foul play? My father was always pleased with Keaton’s performance. He never questioned Keaton’s abilities—or ethics.”
Diane furrowed her brows. “How could he get away with it that easily? When anyone brought in an account when I worked here, those accounts were always turned over to the assistants to bill and set up. Every account was handled the same way, even Mr. Keaton’s.”
“I’m beginning to see why Liz insists there is another person involved,” Rick said.
Diane stared at him, wondering if she dared ask the question she needed to ask. “Do you think that other person was me?”
Rick’s gaze slowly fastened on her features. He didn’t answer.
Diane didn’t let his hesitance deter her. “If you don’t believe it was me, who could it be? Would it be the person who led you to believe that I had been stealing money from the business in the first place?”
Rick looked startled after the question. Diane could see she’d struck a sensitive nerve. Having him suspect someone else was her only hope. If Rick somehow still clung to the idea that Diane had also behaved fraudulently, she could still be in trouble. “Who was the person who turned me in?” Diane finally asked. “I’ve always wanted to know.”
Where Lies End Page 8