Page 11 of Armed ’N’ Ready

She didn’t know anything, not for sure. They’d lied to her at her old job, and she hadn’t known until it was almost too late. A sob rose in her throat. Maybe Joe’s been lying to me for years.

Then something else occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes on Sgt. Houston. “Aside from me being in his house, why do you seem so certain that I’m involved in whatever Joe is doing?”

Without hesitation, he grabbed a folder from the table and pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to her. As he did, his eyes were as hard as shards of gray ice. She took the document and began reading. It was a wire transfer from her bank dated less than a month ago. Her name was listed as the account holder, but she couldn’t recall making any wire transfer from that account. Ever. And was that… “A hundred thousand dollars?” She jerked her gaze first to Houston’s then Cox’s. “What is this? I didn’t authorize this transfer. I couldn’t have. I don’t have a hundred thousand dollars.”

Since the day she’d opened the DPC—the Dog Park Café—she’d been struggling to bring in new customers and stay in the black. The most she’d ever had in that account at any given time was about twenty grand, and that was used to pay all the restaurant’s monthly bills, salaries, and the mortgage.

Houston stared her down. “If you didn’t authorize that wire, then who did?”

“I don’t know.” She looked away, her mind reeling with how this could possibly have happened.

A memory popped into her head, one of Joe sitting in her office at the DPC while she’d been writing monthly checks. Could he have somehow taken note of her bank account information? But how could he have gone so far as to authorize the transfer of so much money without her knowing it? It had never shown up on any of her monthly statements.

Or had it?

“Something you want to tell us?” Cox looked at her with raised brows.

“Last month my bank statement didn’t come in the mail.” She liked paper, so had opted for hardcopy delivery. “I realize I could have checked my account online, but I was so busy with the restaurant, I didn’t bother. I’m meticulous with my money, and I balance my checkbook to the penny, so I wasn’t worried about missing a transaction.” Clearly, she’d missed one. A very, very critical one.

Her heart began beating faster. Numbly, she handed the document back to Houston. “I swear I didn’t authorize this. Someone had to have deposited a hundred grand into my account and wired it out right away because I didn’t see it in this month’s statement, and my account balance has always been correct.”

Sgt. Houston pursed his lips. “The money was wired in, then wired out less than twenty-four hours later.”

“Then there should be a record of where it came from and where it went, right?” She held out her hand in question.

Cox adjusted his chair to face her directly. “As for the source account, we don’t have that information yet, but we will. The money was transferred to an offshore account in Belize.”

“Look.” She fisted her hands. “This is ridiculous. I have nothing to do with this, and I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Sgt. Houston sat on the edge of the table, too close to her for comfort. “We froze your bank account.”

“What?” she whispered, praying she’d misheard him.

“Yesterday, we served your bank with a court order freezing all assets in that account.” Sgt. Houston nodded to the document in his hand. “Because of this wire transfer, your entire account is now considered tainted. You can’t touch anything in it until we say otherwise.”

“You can’t do that.” She stared in disbelief at the crumpled paper. Panic spread through her like wildfire. “That account is all I have for the café. It’s how I pay my bills. All my bills. We’re hanging on by a thread as it is, and if I can’t pay the bills, I may have to shut down.”

To her dismay, neither Houston nor Cox showed anything resembling remorse or an iota of understanding.

This is not good. This is beyond not good. Someone—Joe?—had used her bank account without her knowledge, and right now she couldn’t prove it. She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

“Talk to us,” Sgt. Houston said. “Could Myer have initiated this wire?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.”

“What are you thinking?” Houston asked, clearly picking up on her hesitancy.

In an effort to put more space between them, she leaned back in her chair and let her hands drop to her lap. “He helped me set up that account when I moved here. He introduced me to one of the managers, a personal friend of his.” Could he have used that connection to access her account?

“I want to call Joe.” She pressed her lips together, growing angrier by the second. “I need to talk to him. If he really did this—and I’m not saying he did—then he’ll clear my name. I’m sure of it. My phone is upstairs. If you let me get it, I’ll call and ask him directly.”

The two men exchanged looks.

“Nick? What do you think?”

“Can’t hurt,” he said to Cox. To her, he added, “As long as you put the call on speakerphone, so we can hear what he says and record the conversation. Will you consent to that?”

“Don’t you need a wiretap or something?” Even she knew the police couldn’t just listen in and record phone conversations anytime they wanted.