Standing Guard. Valerie Hansen
always.” Thad pointed. “Rob and Ellen used to have a house attached to their office on the far end of this long building. You can still see the foundation. I made my office in the warehouse instead of rebuilding after the fire.”
“So, you don’t live out here like they did?”
“No. I have a little place off Old Sturkie Road. It isn’t fancy. I don’t spend a lot of time there.”
She chose to open her own door rather than wait for Thad to do it. Ben had always made a big deal of holding doors for her and otherwise treating her gallantly in public, though he’d abused her in private, so Lindy now insisted on fending for herself. It wasn’t that she objected to a man showing good manners, it simply seemed intrinsically necessary for her to demonstrate self-reliance as often as possible.
If Thad minded her behaving so independently he didn’t give any sign of it. Smiling, he directed her to the rear entrance to the warehouse and caught the heavyweight metal door behind her as she passed through. The area was open and airy like a barn, yet bore the chemical odor of new plastic. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell but it was a noticeable change from the crispness of the February air outdoors.
“This is our shipping department,” Thad said, pointing to rows of bins and shelves filled with brightly colored kitchen tools and several long tables. “You probably know most of these folks better than I do. That’s Margaret over there in the brown sweater doing the packing and Louise Williams pulling orders. Vernon Betts looks after the factory and Angela runs the mail room.”
Lindy raised a hand to wave when Louise looked up and smiled. “I do recognize a few faces. We moved to Serenity a couple years ago but I really haven’t gotten out much.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve been so tied up in trying to salvage this business I don’t have time to socialize, either. If it wasn’t for church, I’d probably be a hermit.”
She followed Thad as he led the way to a rudimentary office located at one end of the cavernous, rectangular building. That area was anything but posh. The floor was concrete, the walls unpainted plasterboard. There were bundles of assorted cardboard boxes stacked in one corner. The massive, oak desk was so messy it looked as if someone had upended a carton of trash in the middle of it, then stirred the pile of paper with the blade of a shovel.
Lindy had to smile. “I love your filing system. How’s that working out for you?”
“Poorly.” One corner of his mouth quirked and his dark eyes sparkled. “I know I need help. I just don’t want to hire and then have to lay off somebody. Orders are sporadic since Rob died and I can never be sure how the cash flow will hold up. Ellen used to process orders while her sister, Natalie, kept the books.” He grimaced. “You probably heard how that turned out.”
“The embezzlement? Yes. I’m sorry.” Lindy’s fingers itched to get a chance to sort through the messy piles of paperwork.
“Tell you what,” she said, eyeing his desktop. “While you try to figure out what happened to my credit, why don’t I start sorting this stuff into some semblance of order?”
“I don’t know...”
“Well, I do,” she said flatly. “You’re helping me and I’m going to return the favor.” She pushed up the left sleeve of her jacket to check her watch. “I can stay until just before three when I have to pick up Danny at school.”
Thad nodded. “It’s a deal. Let me know when it’s time and I’ll run you back into town.”
“If you do that, I’ll owe you even more hours of work here,” Lindy said.
She was delighted to see him grin and hear him say, “Uh-huh. That’s kind of what I’d figured.”
* * *
Thad was so engrossed in his computer search he let Lindy answer the business phone. He had to smile at how professional her “Pearson Products. How may I help you?” sounded. It was good to have an accomplished executive assistant, if only for one afternoon.
She made a face as she covered the mouthpiece and held out the receiver. “It’s the sheriff. They’ve taken my car into town and parked it behind the station. We can pick it up any time.”
“Okay. Tell them I’m going to call Seth Whitfield at the garage and have him check it over first. You shouldn’t drive it until we know it’s safe.” To his surprise, Lindy looked anything but pleased.
She put the phone back to her ear. “Thank you, Sheriff. Mr. Pearson has suggested that I have the car examined by a mechanic but I’ll take your word for it that it’s roadworthy. We’ll be there before three.”
As soon as she’d hung up he questioned her. “What was that?”
“That was me, taking care of myself and making my own decisions,” Lindy said firmly. “I decided to skip the expense of taking the car to a repairman. The sheriff assures me the damage is only cosmetic.”
“Okay. I can see you don’t want car advice.” He swiveled in his chair and gestured toward the computer screen. “However, I think you should look at what I’ve found online.”
“What?”
Thad allowed her to look over his shoulder while he brought up screen after screen. Then, he ended with her official credit rating and heard her gasp.
“I didn’t know they went that low,” she moaned.
“Neither did I until I saw yours. What’s going on? This shows that you maxed out your credit cards and failed to pay the minimum so they were all canceled.”
“No!” It was nearly a shout. “I don’t use any credit cards unless I absolutely have to. What about my debit card? Did you check that?”
“I’ll need your account number and password,” Thad said. He started to get up so she could take his place at the keyboard.
Instead, she merely recited a short sequence of numbers. He typed them in. He could sense Lindy’s closeness behind him and hear her rapid breathing. The woman was clearly agitated. He didn’t blame her.
The checking account balance blinked onto the screen, accompanied by Lindy’s sharp intake of breath. “That’s impossible. I just transferred money into that account from my savings.” She leaned closer. “Can you check that, too?”
“Sure.” He paged down and clicked on the listing.
Lindy’s squeal of astonishment was so loud and unexpected it made him jump. He felt her hand rest on his shoulder only long enough for her to say, “Sorry.”
“I take it you didn’t know you were broke.”
“I’m not.” She left him and slumped into the only other chair in the room after clearing it of bundles of product brochures. “I have money. At least I did. The investment company my husband worked for has been depositing a portion of his unused sick leave in my account every month and there was a life insurance settlement, too. I paid off my mortgage with that so I wouldn’t have a lot of big expenses.”
Thad leaned back and turned his desk chair to face her. “Okay. Suppose I believe you...”
“What do you mean, suppose? It’s the truth.”
“Poor choice of words. Sorry. What I should have said is, given your belief that you had sufficient funds in your accounts and plenty of room to charge more purchases on your credit and debit cards, what do you think happened to all the money?”
“How should I know?”
He watched her get to her feet and begin to pace what little space the office afforded. He had assumed that he could solve her problems with a few swift keystrokes after he located a simple glitch. This was far more complicated than that. If he believed her—and he did—then she had been hacked. Big time.
“Who would want to falsify records and ruin you?” Thad