Not This Time Read online

  “I’m sure they did.” Jeff’s lip curled. “What would you have done?”

  “Removed his power of the pen on everything financial, and then threatened to rip out his heart and feed it to the fish.”

  Jeff didn’t look surprised. “That’s what I’m talking about. A woman with true compassion.”

  “I’ve got tons of compassion, just no patience with people who put me in embarrassing situations.” Beth took a swig of her drink. Max taught her well.

  “I hear you.” Jeff straightened the pale blue tie pressed against his once-crisp white shirt. “Why not use SaBe funds?”

  “It’d take too long to do the paperwork. Our senior attorney is a hybrid accountant—corporate law. He’s as brilliant as Churchill but a stickler about paperwork. Way too cumbersome for our purposes.”

  “Are you saying he wouldn’t do it—for Sara?”

  “Henry Baines would die for Sara. He adores her.” Beth leveled a look that spoke volumes. “But this isn’t for her.”

  “Ah, so Henry doesn’t like Robert either.”

  “I don’t speak for anyone but me.”

  “But off the record?”

  “I suspect with constant nagging, Henry would round up the cash for Robert in about two weeks.”

  Jeff rubbed at his jaw. His beard stubble made a light scratching noise. “That’s a little past the dawn deadline.”

  “Just a tad.” Resignation settling into her bones, Beth grabbed the phone off its cradle. “That leaves the funding to me.”

  “I’m sure Sara will appreciate it.”

  Punching in numbers by rote, she glanced over at Jeff. “She’d expect it. And if I didn’t do it, she’d never forgive me.”

  “So you’re doing it to keep the peace with her?”

  “No,” Beth said. “I’m doing it to keep you from putting Sara back in ICU by asking her for it. She might not recover next time.” Beth paused. “I know her, Jeff. No matter what the doc says, she won’t be stable until Robert’s safe at home.” Beth stilled, then added, “And because she’d do it for me.”

  “The money could be lost. You should know that up front.”

  “I figured.” Beth crooked the receiver at her ear. “No guarantees and all that.” The idea of losing two million for Robert made her queasy, but the idea of having to tell Sara she wouldn’t risk it was worse. The guilt of wishing Robert gone a million times didn’t help. But it was her words to Darla that most haunted her. Refusing was cowardly. She could be obedient and pleasing or not. It was that simple, and that complex.

  A woman answered the phone. “Green Enterprises.”

  “Beth Dawson for Darla Green, please.”

  Kyle came in and Jeff passed him the ice chest. “Lab’s ready and waiting. Tell the others Beth’s working on getting the money.”

  “Yes sir.” Kyle lingered to listen to Beth’s call, unabashedly curious.

  “Hi, Beth,” Darla said. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I’m glad you called. We not only met but exceeded Sara’s fund-raising goal. Tell her we raised $2.7 million.”

  “That’s great news. Thank you, Darla.”

  “So I heard down at Ruby’s that Sara’s out of ICU.”

  Gossip grapevine was fast today. Probably because the rain had everyone inside. “She is.” Beth rubbed her pounding forehead. “Don’t shoot me, but I need another favor.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “An emergency, but please don’t ask its nature.” All any of them needed was for a society rag to get a hold of this information. Or worse, Robert’s friends. The repercussions to SaBe could be significant.

  “Can I help resolve it?”

  “Indirectly.” Beth rolled her gaze toward the ceiling and got down to business. “I need two million dollars in cash in twelve hours. I have the assets, but I can’t liquidate that quickly.”

  “Hold on.” Music flowed through the phone. A long minute later, Darla came back on the line. “Dennis Porter’s conferenced in with us, Beth. Dennis, Beth needs two million in cash in twelve hours. As VP of Community Bank, will you please handle that?”

  “Twelve hours?” He stammered. “Is that what you said, Darla?”

  “Yes.”

  “But—but I can’t get two million to the village bank in twelve hours. I need a couple days.”

  “Beth doesn’t have a couple days. If she did, I wouldn’t be asking for it in twelve hours.”

  “Darla’s right, Dennis,” Beth interrupted. “I know making this happen won’t be easy.”

  “Beth, allow me,” Darla said. “Dennis, Beth is up to her earlobes in alligators. This isn’t a debate. She has the money. We both know it, so get her the cash.”

  “It’s not that simple, Darla.”

  “If it were simple, I’d handle it myself. Now, I have every confidence that when Beth steps up to the bank’s front door at three o’clock in the morning, you will be there with the money, ready and waiting for her. I’ll be there to see it. Have I made myself clear?”

  “I—I can wire it out of your STAR fund immediately, Beth,” he suggested.

  That was her mad money, and the kidnappers wouldn’t take a wire. “It has to be from my personal accounts, and no wire or cashier’s check. I need real money. Cash.”

  “You can’t walk around with that kind of money in cash.”

  “I need cash.”

  “I don’t have that much on hand.”

  “Dennis,” Darla cut in again. “You’re not hearing me. Handle it—and never tell a woman what she can and can’t do with her own money. It’s offensive.”

  “I was just trying—She has no protection, Darla.”

  “A fact she surely knows since she was bright enough to earn every penny.”

  “But—but—”

  “Twelve hours, Dennis. Front door. Cash. Good-bye.” A click sounded, then Darla added, “Sorry about that, Beth. He’s protective.”

  He was right. “Will he have it?”

  “Definitely. Dennis would never disappoint me.”

  He wouldn’t. She’d buy the bank and fire him. “Thanks for the assist.”

  “Any time.”

  Beth hung up, then looked at Jeff. “Okay, that’s done. What’s next?”

  He frowned. “It isn’t done. No bank in the village has that kind of money in its vault. Porter will have to get—”

  “Dennis Porter will have the money at the bank’s front door at three o’clock.”

  “He’ll want to, he’ll try, but there’s no way he can do it.” Jeff raised his hands and clasped his face, dragged his fingertips down to his chin. “You’ve asked the impossible.”

  “No, I didn’t. Darla did.”

  “You’re not hearing me, Beth. He can’t do it.”

  “He can and will. Dennis Porter was John’s best friend his whole life. He’ll find away.”

  “That’s why you called Darla. Widow of his best friend had better odds of success.”

  “Yes.” Beth brushed off his impatience, studied him closely. “You don’t have much faith in people, do you?” The reserve would deliver to the local banks in the morning. Porter and the other banks worked together, and if he had to wake every banker in town, he’d get the money. Jeff was right. No village bank vaulted that much cash, but competitors—especially those in small towns—helped each other because next time they might be the one needing help. Jeff didn’t seem to get that.

  Well, it was a little opportunity for him to grow as a person. For something good to come from all this bad stuff.

  No answer.

  “I said, you don’t have a lot of faith in people, do you?” she repeated.

  He looked exasperated but kept his tone civil. “What’s that got to do with this?”

  “Everything.” Her soda was warm. She filled a glass with ice and drained the can into it. It fizzed and the ice cubes crackled. “I have faith in some people, and Darla Green is one of them. Dennis will get the money. Not for me, but for her.” />
  “He can’t perform miracles. Neither can she.”

  “We’ll see how it works out at three o’clock.”

  Jeff frowned. “You know I arrested her for John’s murder. I mean, you do understand that Darla’s guilty and her former sidekick Johnson’s taking blame covering for her, right?”

  “I’ve heard the gossip.” The village grapevine hadn’t missed a thing.

  “It’s a lot more than gossip.”

  “Then why isn’t she in jail?”

  “I’m not a lawyer or a judge. Maybe they know she killed the mayor but can’t prove it. Or maybe they botched the prosecution and with Johnson’s confession the conviction wouldn’t hold up on appeal. Or maybe they cut her loose to see what she would do, who she knows, and if she was acting with just Johnson or with a larger group. Maybe with NINA.”

  “Oh, please. You think Darla-the-Airhead-Green works with NINA?”

  “She’s not an airhead, Beth. She’s shrewd and ruthless.”

  She wasn’t an airhead. “She was John’s trophy wife. And she can’t be that shrewd or ruthless or she’d go to someone a lot smarter than me for business advice.”

  “You’ve done well.”

  “With computers. Business is a maze I crawl through on my knees.”

  “Think, Beth. Who better to sting you than someone you never see coming?”

  Roxy and Lisa, Mark—Joe—none of them shunned Darla. “I don’t believe it. Those in a position to know welcome her in their circle. Roxy invited her to the ceremony, for pity’s sake. They’re not stupid.”

  “No, they’re not stupid. They’re watchful.”

  Someone would have told Beth, unless they didn’t trust her either. She couldn’t accept that; she had access to all of the Crossroads computers. That required a high level of trust. Still … “You may have a point.” Beth sighed. “But Darla’s been kicked hard. If the evidence proves she’s guilty, okay. Just don’t ask me to condemn her without it. I won’t do that.” Doubt seeped in. Giving Sara the property on Airport Road and making a sizable donation could have been a manipulative move to get back into the villagers’ good graces. It wasn’t impossible. Oh, Beth hated doubting Darla. They weren’t close friends, but it was just unfair.

  “I was involved in that investigation. I saw. Just keep what I said in mind.” Jeff tossed his empty can in the trash with a little extra force. “Meantime, we need a backup plan. We can’t go to that river empty-handed.”

  “Will you quit and move on to whatever comes next? The money issue is resolved.” She spoke more sharply than she intended, but Jeff kept pushing, knowing she was frazzled and worn-out. Dennis Porter would handle it. Why couldn’t Jeff give her credit for knowing it?

  He shoved a fisted hand into his pocket. “You’re asking a lot—and betting someone else’s life on it. A man you dislike.”

  “Now you’re crossing the line. I know cops have to be suspicious, but you’re insulting me.” Her temper flashed. She struggled to leash it. “I’ve done what needs doing, which means I’m asking very little. Why is trusting me difficult?” That raised her hackles. “I’ve done nothing to earn your doubt.”

  “You hate the victim.” Jeff looked away. “Bottom line, this is about saving his hide.”

  “Disliking a man is not hating him or wishing him dead.” Jeff should know that. “But whatever. Just wait and see what happens. Dennis Porter will be on the bank steps with the money.” Beth tilted her glass toward Jeff. “You’re forgetting that to me this isn’t about your victim, it’s about Sara. I thought I knew you. I thought your priorities were in order. But I don’t know you at all. That’s fine. I don’t need to know you. I know me. And I never take unnecessary risks with my family.”

  “Don’t make this personal.” A muscle in his jaw ticked.

  “I didn’t. You did.”

  “I can’t afford the luxury of waiting and seeing. It’ll be too late to do anything else.”

  “It’s already too late to do anything else. That’s the kicker. Whether you don’t see it or won’t admit it doesn’t matter—though, I have to say, both tick me off. But here’s a deal you’ll love. If I’m wrong and Dennis is a no-show, then just shoot me.” What else could he possibly want from her? “That’ll make us even.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” His face burned red and he clamped his jaw.

  “Save your outrage for later,” she said, taking a tip from Joe. “Right now, we need to address a couple concerns, if you don’t mind.” Putting up two million to get Robert back should buy her that much goodwill. If Sara made it through this ordeal, she’d reimburse Beth. Robert wouldn’t even consider it.

  “Fine.”

  Beth backed up to the bar and snagged an apple. “First, your concerns.”

  “Okay.” Jeff circled around to the table, then clasped the back of a chair. “When the kidnapper put Robert on the phone, he said he knew Sara was upset with him. Was that upset about the bounced check?”

  “Doubtful. The check incident happened months ago.” Beth washed the wax from the apple at the sink, snagged a napkin, then sat at the table and took a crunchy bite. Her stomach was full of acid and rumbling.

  Jeff sat opposite her. “Then why was Sara upset with him?”

  “I don’t know.” Beth recalled the nagging feeling she’d had earlier. “But something was off with her all day yesterday. If she and Robert were at odds, that could have been it.”

  “You guys are close. If there was trouble, wouldn’t she have told you?”

  “We talk about everything but him. Sara knows I tolerate him for her. That’s not a sympathetic ear for airing your troubles.”

  “Reasonable.” Jeff pulled a peppermint from his pocket and unwrapped it. The cellophane crinkled in his hand. “So who would she talk to about him?”

  Beth chewed an apple bite and thought. “Maybe Margaret.”

  “Who?”

  “Our personal assistant, Margaret McCloud. Though that’d be a stretch.”

  “Let me guess.” Jeff slid Beth a deadpan look. “Margaret doesn’t like Robert either.”

  “Actually, she doesn’t, but that’s not why. Margaret lives in a world of her own and just kind of drops out of the clouds to work for us. She’s an excellent assistant, don’t get me wrong, but she has her own brand of relationship reality.”

  He popped the mint into his mouth. “I don’t understand.”

  He couldn’t, could he? Beth squirmed. She didn’t like talking about Margaret this way, but the last thing she wanted was for Jeff to get it in his head that Margaret could be a suspect. “Let me give you an example,” Beth said. “Three years ago, Margaret married a musician. He danced to his own drum—you know what I mean.” When Jeff nodded, Beth went on. “When she got tired of supporting him and his habits, she moved him out. A few months later she fell in love with this mechanic and married him.”

  Jeff shrugged. “What’s odd about that? People remarry all the time.”

  “They usually get a divorce or an annulment first. Margaret didn’t.” Beth cocked her head and shrugged. “That’s how Margaret thinks. If she wants to get married, she gets married. She doesn’t bother with the details, like divorcing her current spouse first.”

  He nearly choked on his mint. “So she’s a bigamist?”

  “You’re getting sidetracked,” Beth warned him. “My point is that Margaret loves being a bride but she’s not crazy about being married. She might have a dozen husbands out there. I don’t know. But there hasn’t been any trouble. Every now and then one of them shows up at SaBe. She’s glad to see him, and he’s glad to see her. It’s weird, but it works for Margaret. I’ve tried and tried to get her to go to Crossroads for counseling, but so far, she’s not interested. At the office, she’s a powerhouse—great work, totally trustworthy, and no trouble. I can’t make her personal choices for her.”

  “Is that a woman thing, or what?”

  “It’s a faith thing.” Beth frowned. “I’m a work-in-progress,
especially where Robert’s concerned. I’m not fit to judge anyone. Margaret’s stuff is between her and God.”

  Jeff thumbed the place mat. “Sara wouldn’t go to her. No common ground.”

  “That was my thinking, but you make your own call.” Relieved that he got it, Beth sifted through other possibilities. “Sara used to come home for dinner once a week—Robert nixed that—but she and Mom had lunch fairly often.”

  “What do they talk about?”

  “Probably all the things girls and their mothers discuss that is of no interest to anyone else; you know, the mundane and significant.”

  “They’re that close?”

  “Closer.” Beth nodded. “But don’t waste your time there. Their chats are private. Neither will tell you a thing. There just isn’t anyone else.” Sara had lots of acquaintances but only one really close friend. If Beth could have been thrilled about Robert, it would have meant the world to Sara. Things should have been so different. Guilt swam through her, settled in her heart. It wasn’t warranted—he was a user. But she regretted the situation for Sara.

  “What’s troubling you?”

  “It’d be easier to answer what isn’t.” Beth bit the apple, enjoyed its tart crunch, and focused on what she would next say. “During the kidnapper’s call, something odd happened.” Surely Jeff had noticed. It was his job to notice things like that, but he hadn’t said anything. “It’s nagging at me.”

  “What?”

  Keep your mouth shut. Things get twisted … “You know, it was probably nothing. Forget—”

  “No.” He lifted a hand, still holding the wadded mint wrapper. “Tell me.”

  “Robert called me Sara.”

  “So?”

  “So the man talks to his wife a dozen times a day. He’s terrified anyone else will influence her.”

  “What’s your point?”

  Palms on the table, she leaned toward him. “My point is a question, Jeff.” She almost regretted bringing this up. Almost. But something warned her not to drop it, that it was significant. “Things important to women don’t always register with men.”

  “Granted, though we do have other redeeming qualities.”

  Clyde Parker would have belly laughed at that one. “You do.”