Final Deposit. Lisa Harris
tell me that a stack of letters from collection agencies, and the fact that all of Mom’s porcelain pieces are missing, is nothing. So what is it? Has someone stolen your identity? Or maybe…I don’t know…have you been gambling online?”
“Gambling?” He stabbed at another piece of fruit, clearly fed up with her questions. “What are you talking about, Lindsey?”
“What am I talking about?” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. They were going in circles. “I’m talking about the fact that there are attorneys bringing lawsuits against you for starters.”
“You shouldn’t have gone through my desk.” The lines on her father’s forehead deepened. “It’s none of your business, and I’m finished discussing it.”
“You’d have done the same if the situation was reversed and you know it. All I want to do is help.”
“How’s Sammy?”
She opened her mouth to respond and then shut it in frustration. How was Sammy? So that was it. Subject closed. All evidence denied. He was more worried about his precious cat than his imploding financial situation. Why wouldn’t he let her help him?
“Sammy’s fine.” She took another sip of her juice. She’d go along with the change of subject. For now. “When are they planning to let you go home?”
“Sometime this afternoon.” He smoothed out the edges of his white mustache with his fingers. “Why don’t you go home and sleep. You look exhausted.”
“That’s because I was up half the night worried about you.”
“I know, pumpkin, and I really do appreciate it.” He reached out and grasped her hand, smiling for the first time all morning. “I need you to trust me on this. Sometimes things aren’t what they seem, but everything’s going to be all right. I promise.”
She squeezed her father’s hand, wanting to believe him, wanting to believe this was nothing more than a big misunderstanding that would simply disappear. Her gut told her that wasn’t true, but arguing with her stubborn father was only making things worse.
He nudged her arm. “Go home, Lindsey. Get some sleep. I’ll call you when they release me.”
She was tired, but there was no time for a nap. The carpet cleaners would be at his house in an hour, and she still had to do something about the fish tank and the glass pane in the back door. Not wanting to upset him further, she’d decided to hold off telling him about the break-in. Plus, if he thought her life was in danger for any reason, he’d make her promise not to go back to the house. And that was a promise she wasn’t willing to make.
She tossed the empty juice cup into the trash can. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
He nodded. “Positive.”
She leaned over the bed to kiss him on the forehead. “I worry about you. I can’t help it.”
“I’ll be fine.” He cupped her face between his hands. “You look so much like your mother. She’d be so proud of you. You know that, don’t you?”
Lindsey nodded. She missed her mom so much. And if she were here, she’d know what do to.
“I love you, pumpkin.”
She blinked back a tear. “I love you, too, Daddy.”
Two minutes later she was downstairs in the lobby, punching Kyle’s number into her phone.
He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Kyle, it’s me. Lindsey,” she said, crossing the lobby.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to call.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” She stopped just before the automated doors that led outside, hoping her last statement didn’t make it sound as if she didn’t want to see him. Because she did. Very much.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that my father refuses to discuss the issue and denies there is anything wrong.”
He let out a low whistle. “I’m assuming that means he didn’t give you permission to search his house?”
“He didn’t, but that doesn’t matter.” Lindsey bit her lip, already feeling guilty about what she’d decided to do. “I have unlimited power of attorney. He signed all the papers after he was diagnosed with prostate cancer, in case something happened.” A young girl stepped through the doors, bringing with her a blast of Texas summer. Lindsey took a step back into the lobby. “You have to know that I’d never take advantage of his trust. But I think it’s appropriate for me to use my power of attorney in these circumstances.”
“I think you’re right.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. One day her father would thank her. They just had to figure out what was going on first.
“Can you meet me back at my father’s house?” she asked. “I’ll pick up lunch to sweeten the deal.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour. Is that soon enough?”
“Yeah.” She hadn’t expected the wave of relief that followed. At least she wasn’t in this alone. “I owe you big-time for this.”
Thank you, Lord, for Kyle Walker.
She hung up and walked over to the ATM on the other side of the automatic doors to withdraw money for lunch. Rummaging through her purse, she remembered she’d left all her usual cards in her dresser drawer yesterday so she wouldn’t have to worry about them at the wedding. She sighed, and pulled a debit card for her emergencies-only account from a zippered pocket.
Sliding the card into the slot, she wondered what she and Kyle might find. She noticed her hand was shaking and rested it against the side of the machine, waiting for the bank to process her request. The ATM spit the card back at her.
Card denied. Insufficient funds.
Insufficient funds? Lindsey smacked the machine with the palm of her hand and shoved in the card again. She didn’t have time for this.
Thirty seconds later…denied again.
She glanced around the lobby. A dozen people milled about the room and not one of them seemed to notice that she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Or that the room was beginning to spin.
This simply couldn’t be happening. There should be at least two thousand dollars in her account.
Or rather, their account. She shared it with her father.
Kyle jumped off Mr. Taylor’s front porch as Lindsey parked the car. The moment she stepped out, he knew she’d been crying.
He hurried toward her. “What happened? Your father, is he—”
“He’s fine. As far as the hospital is concerned, anyway.”
“What’s wrong then?” he asked.
“I don’t know what’s going on.”
She dug into her purse and yanked out the keys to the front door, forcing him to keep up with her as she marched up the walk. Her chin jutted forward, lips pressed into a thin line. It seemed that frustration had morphed into pure anger.
“Lindsey? What’s going on?”
“My father and I have a joint savings account. He set it up a couple years ago. Emergency money, he called it. If either of us got in a bind, we could borrow from it.” She stomped up the porch stairs and stopped briefly to face him. “I’ve used it from time to time, always repaying it quickly. I don’t think my father’s ever used it, because the balance has never dropped below two thousand dollars.”
She shoved the house key into the lock, opened the door and deactivated the alarm. “I needed cash for lunch, so I tried to use the card. It was denied because