Final Deposit

No, God. No…

His chest constricted. The ambulance shot by, casting eerie flickers of light across his dash. He moved back into the lane and picked up speed, waiting to see if it was headed for Lindsey’s father’s house. He tried to block the flood of images that flipped through his mind. What were the chances of her fending off an attacker before the police arrived?

The emergency vehicle whizzed down the road, passing Mr. Taylor’s street. Kyle felt the rush of adrenaline shoot through his heart. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t her.

Slowing down at the third turn, he swung a sharp left and began searching for the house. Thirty-three…thirty-five…He stopped two houses short of her father’s one-story brick house and pulled his rented Mazda against the curb.

Please, God. Let her be okay.

He steadied his breathing. Half a dozen people stood talking on the front lawn, but the street lamp didn’t cast enough light to clearly make out who they were. One or two officers and a couple of neighbors? Squinting in the darkness through the windshield, he caught a glimpse of Lindsey’s pink dress and let out a sigh of relief.

Thank you, Lord.

He got out of the car and approached the scene slowly. The last thing he needed was to be marked as a possible suspect.

One of the officers stepped toward him and held out an arm. “I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there, sir.”

Kyle froze in his tracks, holding his hands away from his sides. “I’m a friend of Lindsey—”

“It’s all right, Officer.” Lindsey came up beside the uniformed man. “This is Kyle Walker. I was talking to him on my cell when the attempted break-in occurred.”

The officer nodded and moved aside.

Kyle pulled her into his arms, overwhelmed with relief. Once again, his reaction to her caught him off guard, just as it had when he’d first seen her at the wedding.

He’d felt more like a college sophomore than a thirty-three-year-old. She’d been the reason he hadn’t been able to fall asleep at the hotel, and he’d decided to take a chance and call her despite the late hour. Lucky thing he did.

The problem was, he hadn’t planned on this distraction. Not this weekend. He needed to focus on his upcoming meeting with one of his biggest clients.

But no matter how busy things were, Lindsey’s situation wasn’t something he could dismiss. And neither was Lindsey.

Taking a step back, he shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “You okay?”

“Yeah. The guy scared me to death, but he never made it inside the house.”

“You didn’t try to play superhero, did you?” Kyle asked, looking her straight in the eye.

“Are you kidding?” She cocked her head and met his gaze. “I was heading for the front door before I hung up the phone with you. Unfortunately, I didn’t make a very graceful exit,” she said, a tinge of mischief in her voice.

“What do you mean?” His interest was piqued.

“I smashed into my father’s ten-gallon fish tank on my way out of the kitchen and knocked it over. Made enough noise to wake the dead.”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, but apparently the crash scared away the would-be thief.”

“And the fish?”

She hesitated briefly. “Dumped them in the toilet.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Wait a minute. You did what?”

She shrugged, giving him one of her wide smiles. “What can I say? They’re freshwater African cichlids from Malawi. My father loves them.”

Kyle didn’t try to stifle his laugh. “But you stuck them in the toilet?”

“I know. It was a crazy, stupid reflex. They probably won’t make it, but what else was I supposed to do?”

Two policemen stepped out of the house and took the steps leading down to the front yard. The tallest officer approached Lindsey, his fists planted solidly on his hips. “We’re finished inside, Miss Taylor. Were you planning to spend the night here?”

“No, sir. Like I said, I’d just dropped by to feed my father’s cat. Do you think it’s safe to leave the house empty?”

“I’d board up the back window. That seems to be the only vulnerable place.”

“I’ll help you,” Kyle offered. “Is there an alarm system in place?”

Lindsey nodded. “Yes, I had it turned off while I was inside.”

“More than likely the guy isn’t coming back tonight,” the officer continued, “but you still need to alert the security company that the door was damaged. And make sure you turn the alarm back on when you leave.”

She stood beside Kyle as the four officers made their way to their squad cars and the lingering neighbors trekked across the lawn toward their houses.

A balding man with bifocals and slippers stopped on the sidewalk and then turned to address Lindsey. “I’ll be back with the tank water in a couple minutes, Miss Taylor.”

Lindsey waved her thanks. “I appreciate it, Mr. Vasquez.”

“Tank water?” Kyle folded his arms across his chest.

“I can’t exactly leave the fish floating in the toilet all night.” She grinned and her eyes sparkled in the yellow light of the street lamp. “He’s getting a plastic bag filled with water from his tank so he can bring the fish back to his house.”

“That’s a good idea,” he admitted.

“Why don’t you come inside. I’ll let you help me board up the window as long as you promise not to laugh at the ten gallons of water I dumped on my father’s floor.”

His brow furrowed. “What kind of deal is that?”

“One completely to my advantage.”

Kyle resisted the urge to push back a curl that had fallen from her pinned-up hair and now brushed against her cheek. If only she didn’t look so appealing in her silly ruffled dress and bare feet. But instead of giving in to his impulse, he followed her up the front stairs.

His shoes squished as he stepped onto the soggy carpet. “I never would have imagined ten gallons of water could make such a mess.”

“Tell me about it.” She shook her head and maneuvered around the shattered fish tank into the living room. “I’ll have to send for someone to dry out the carpet tomorrow.”

Except for the fish tank and a pile of glass beneath the broken windowpane in the back door, the house was spotless.

Kyle took in the details of the room. While everything was neatly kept, nothing looked new. Half a dozen framed photos on a file cabinet, a few healthy plants and a worn leather lounge chair and matching couch from another era, flanked by heavy wooden side tables. Even the television looked at least twenty years old.

He cleared his throat. “What did the police do while they were here?”

“Besides ask a lot of questions?” Lindsey pointed to the door. “I showed them where the guy tried to get in, and they dusted for prints. But I’m guessing the prints are my father’s or mine—the burglar probably used gloves. And he never set foot inside the house, so they don’t have much to go on.”

He studied the solid-wood door with its nine, etched-glass windowpanes on the top half. The pane closest to the door handle was shattered. The fact that the door had been locked with a key had probably been a deterrent. If Lindsey hadn’t been here to scare him off, though, he would have found a way in eventually. But why? What had he wanted?

“Kyle?”

He turned to look at her. “What is it?”

She had a hammer in one hand and a half-dozen nails in the other, and she was staring at his feet. “I thought the chocolate-covered tux shirt was a unique fashion statement, but this…”

He followed her gaze. One brown shoe and one black shoe stared back at him.

“It’s my fault once again, I suppose.” She let out a chuckle and handed him the hammer. “Have I thanked you for rushing to my rescue once again?”

He quirked his left brow. Was she flirting? If she was, he liked it. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I should.” She glanced up at him beneath long, dark lashes. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Nothing like a beautiful woman to turn his world upside down in the course of an evening. “You know you’re welcome.”

“I’ll be right back. I think there’s a piece of plywood in the laundry room that we can use.”

He watched her disappear around the corner. Washington, D.C., suddenly seemed a lifetime away.

He glanced around the living room again and his grip on the hammer tightened. Something wasn’t right here. If George Taylor had been buying enough stuff to not only lose his entire life savings but unleash a pack of bill collectors, there was no evidence of the man’s material indulgences. Everything in the house Kyle had seen so far was cared for but far from new. There were no fancy stereo systems, laptops or flat-screen TVs in sight. If anything, Mr. Taylor’s surroundings corroborated Lindsey’s descriptions of a thrifty and frugal man.

And there were holes in Lindsey’s identity-theft theory. Mr. Taylor was an educated man. If he believed someone had stolen his identity, why wouldn’t he have gone immediately to the authorities? It didn’t make sense. Add to that the missing porcelain pieces and tonight’s break-in—

“Kyle?” Lindsey’s fingertips brushed against his sleeve.

She held out the board to him, smiling.

“Sorry.” He hadn’t heard her come back into the room. He looked down at her, wishing they were standing here under different circumstances. This wasn’t the way he wanted to get to know her again. “I was just trying to see if I could make sense of any of this. The collection notices, the missing curios and now the attempted burglary…”

Her smile disappeared. “Any theories?”

“At this point only conjectures. I’ll need your father’s permission to look through his financial statements and computer files.”

“Kyle.”

He swapped her the hammer and nails for the board and then set it against the door frame to cover the hole. “And I’m following you home when we’re done here.”

“I know I asked for your help, but you don’t have to do any of this. Just because we were friends years ago—”

“I might not have to, but I want to.” He pounded in the first nail. His gut told him this was something that went beyond an ugly case of identity theft. A vision of his brother lying in a casket flashed before him. There was no way he was going to let her handle this alone. “I want you to call me tomorrow once you talk to your father. With his help we can get to the bottom of this.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, I do.” He turned to her and this time couldn’t resist the urge to brush back the loose curl that rested on her cheek. “You know, you’ve hardly changed at all. I remember a beautiful young woman who cared so much for her parents that she left school to help them during a difficult time. Today, I see a woman who’d do anything for her best friend, including wear a pink ruffled dress she probably hates, with three-inch, back-breaking heels. And—” a blush spread across her face as he talked “—who’d risk her own life to save her father’s beloved African cyclops.”

Lindsey brought her hand to her mouth and laughed. “They’re African cichlids, and you’ve now completely embarrassed me.”

“Cichlids. Okay.” He matched her grin. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re quite a woman, Lindsey Taylor. You always have been.”

FIVE

Lindsey shifted in the metal hospital chair, wishing she could find a more comfortable position. She stared over the stark white bedsheets at her father’s determined gaze and tried to stay calm. She’d always hated hospitals, but today the pale green walls of the room seemed to close in on her. She shut her eyes for a moment, wishing she could block out the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the endless influx of nurses that reminded her of her mother’s last days. Except now it was her father in the hospital.

She wondered if the nurses could give him something for his obstinacy.

“Please, Dad. I know this isn’t easy for you, but you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. I just want to help.”

Her father jabbed with his fork at a piece of pear on his breakfast tray and shook his head calmly. “I’ve already told you that there’s nothing to tell.”

Her stomach clenched, and she held back the angry words on the tip of her tongue.

“Dad—”

“Lindsey, please.” He held his plastic fork up as if to emphasize what he was about to say. “I told you there’s nothing to worry about.”

Nothing to worry about? Right. She gripped the arms of the chair. After Kyle ensured she’d gotten home safely last night, she’d made a cup of tea and tried to get back into the book she was reading, but even the absorbing storyline couldn’t pull her away from reality. Next, she’d turned to the Bible—where she probably should have gone first—but even that had done little to ease her concern. She was worried. There was no getting around it.

She took a sip of orange juice from a plastic cup, in no mood to accept his insistent rebuttals. If he wouldn’t agree to help her get to the bottom of the situation, she’d call Kyle and search through every last piece of paper in her father’s house until she found out the truth.

“Dad…” She sighed heavily, determined to try one last time. “You can’t 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 of ‘insufficient funds.’ And he claims there’s nothing wrong.”

Her purse smacked against the wall as she tromped over the still-wet carpet. She slung it down on the floor, away from the mess. A Siamese cat rubbed up against her leg, but she ignored its obvious ploy for attention. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my entire life.”

“Hey,” Kyle said, setting his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve got to calm down. We’ll find a way to work this all out.”

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