Eric in accounting—the wormy little guy with bad breath who asked me about the Scotch. But he never came to me about the others. And now he’s throwing me under the bus to cover his own ass. I inhale. How do I explain without making myself sound more suspicious?
“I don’t recall ever speaking with Eric,” I lie. “He must be confused.”
She laughs nervously. “It’s funny, because it seems that just before all that money was left on Sue’s desk last week, someone withdrew a large amount in cash from the company card listed on these reports.”
“Okay.” I play dumb, unsure what else to do.
“And your name is on some of those charges. Specifically these. So, you can see how we’d draw a connection here. And that’s all we’re doing at this stage, Jude—connecting the dots.”
I smile flatly, playing along. “Well, is anyone else’s name connected with purchases on that card? Another dot you’ve overlooked, perhaps?” Maybe I can spoon-feed it to her. Calvin is bound to be in a lot of those reports.
Her laugh is short this time, more like a bark. “Due diligence, Jude. We’re just coveringallour bases. I can assure you we’re speaking with everyone involved.”
“Yes, but I’m not involved, Jessica. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Maybe check with whoever was originally given the card. Maybe they withdrew the funds.”
Her leg begins to kick aggressively. “That’s the other funny little piece of this puzzle. It seems the card has gone missing. Just vanished.” She releases a high-pitched laugh and her eyes fall to my purse. “Anywho, I thought we could clear some things up with this little chat.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I tell her. “I really know nothing about these.”
She rises, gripping the papers chastely in front of her skirt. Her knuckles, I notice, are whitening around the edges. “Okay! Well… I guess it’s back to the drawing board.”
I nod encouragingly. “I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“We will,” she says with more force than I’m used to from her. “We’ve already requested footage from the bank’s ATM.”
I feel the color draining from my face. Arla protected me once. Can she do it again? Like her or not, I need her right now.
“And the background checks are nearly finished. Just plugging a few holes, filling a few blanks. Know what I mean? It’s only a matter of time, really.”
I force myself to smile up at her. Background checks? I can think of an enormous hole in mine that anyone with more than a little curiosity will notice, starting about ten years ago, before Iswitched to the name Clark. If they find out my real name, they’ll find everything else that goes with it—the misdemeanor assault and drug-possession charges when I was fresh out of the system, the sketchy foster care family before that, articles and news reports on the mystery fire at Solidago, my questionable family history and my grandfather’s wealth and reputation, maybe even my hospital records—declared dead.
“Well, good luck or whatever.” I smile primly to hide the terror.
She reaches out and lays a well-meaning hand on my shoulder. “Jude, if there’s anything you decide you want to talk to me about—anythingat all—my office door is always open.”
I shift away from her touch. “Thank you, Jessica.”
“I mean it,” she says before turning and walking away. “Anything at all.”
IFINDBRENNAN,hair a mess, looking utterly pleased with himself in a wide, white bed at the Four Seasons after giving the receptionist Aaron’s name. I snuck out for lunch early while Aaron was preoccupied so I could get to Brennan before he pulled any more magic rabbits from his fucking hat. He opened the door thinking I was room service bringing orange juice and waffles, and upon seeing me, rolled his eyes and threw himself back onto the bed.
I notice even his underwear and T-shirt are black. “Do you dress like Arla’s watching all the time?”
“Ha ha,” he says flatly, sitting up. “Why are you here?”
“You know why,” I tell him. “Aaron is a fount of information after a good orgasm. Apparently, so are you.”
He pulls on his pants and stands up to button them, putting some half-melted ice from the bucket into a glass and then running the tap from the bathroom sink. He stands there, clinking it angrily at me after taking a sip. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, Jude. You think I don’t know Arla sent you to spy on me?”
“Uhh, I don’t—”
“Don’t deny it,” he says, irritated, plopping into a cushy hotel chair. “I know Arla better than you do. She has a way of getting to people.”
I take a breath, lowering myself into the adjacent chair. “You’re right. You know her better than me. So why bring my friend into this game you two are playing? You could have just had a few drinks and left, then there would be nothing to tell.”
His expression is wary and jaded. He studies me as if deciding whether Arla has gotten to me. “I didn’t mean to,” he confesses. “Aaron isn’t like anyone I’ve met before. He’s spectacular. Sometimes, when my emotions get the better of me, the magic just happens.”
“And all the stuff you told him about us and the club? He thinks we’re practicing sex magic, Brennan. All of us.”
