Warren drove on the wrong side of the street to get out away from him, and then pulled down a one way street, crossing over several blocks before he slowed down. “Who was that?”

  Celeste frowned. “The kink in the chain.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They found another parking garage and Warren pulled into it, jumping out to inspect the damage. They stood together, looking it over. Celeste paced. “We’ve got to go see Sanders.”

  “What? Why? Right now?”

  “We’ve got to find something out. He’s the one with access to the information.”

  “Can we trust him? I thought he was the one that drained the money from the accounts.”

  Celeste walked to the back of the car, pacing again and putting hands over her face, rubbing away the feeling of wanting to just stop. She was exhausted. This was crazy. “Come on.”

  Warren shook his head. “I’ve got to report this. Insurance is going to freak.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You stay here. I’ll deal with it.” She left him as he continued to look at his car, mumbling.

  On the top floor of Logan Tower, the Doberman secretary was typing away at her computer. She saw her enter and lifted a hand up toward her in a stop motion, “Mr. Chandler is not here.”

  “I’m not here to see Mr. Chandler.”

  She looked at me. “You’re here for Mr. Sanders? He’s busy.”

  “He’s not that busy. I’m going in.”

  She stood to face me, trying to configure how much trouble she’d get in if she made the wrong decision. Then she went stone faced and lifted the receiver on the telephone. “I’ll just warn him you’re here.” She said it with a sly smile, and she knew that if Celeste got into trouble, it would be the last time she’d ever let her in. Celeste smiled brightly at her as she started toward her father’s old office.

  Celeste hadn’t been inside her dad’s office in months, but a lot had changed. The light tan carpet was brand new, the furniture was new, and even the fake runt sized palmetto trees had been changed out for a huge Jade plant and a few bonsai trees. The expansive office took up a quarter of the floor, with enough space for a desk off to the back surrounded by a double row of bookshelves and floor to ceiling windows along one wall overlooking Charleston. There was a small conference table to the right, where Mr. Sanders hunched over the table, next to a gangly, dark haired man in a gray suit. Suit guy had bright gold rimmed glasses, that sat on the edge of his nose as he and Mr. Sanders looked over some papers.

  She felt the hot air that had been bubbling inside of her deflate as she entered. It was one thing to confront Sanders alone, another when he was with a stranger. Who was that guy?

  It was too late to turn around. The guest had already spotted her. It took a few moments for Sanders to realize he wasn’t paying attention to him and turned his head around. “Celeste,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…,” she couldn’t remember what she wanted to say. The smashed window, Warren, Leah, and everything was starting to come together in her head. Her hands started to shake. Then she thought of her father, who had so many people depending on him. She thought of Kris and how she had treated her so unfairly. It was this whole mixed up situation. It was enough. “You’re fired.”

  Mr. Sanders groaned. The guy, however, smiled at her. “This is Celeste Logan? She looks different from that commercial.”

  Mr. Sanders put two fingers at the bridge of his nose, he rubbed there as if he had a headache, and nodded. “Celeste, I don’t have time for this.”

  “You’ve been shutting down companies. Small businesses. Destroying lives. How many people have you fired from here? Have you counted them?” She had meant to be brave, but her voice began to crack a little. She sucked in some air. “There’s been retribution, and it’s going to get somebody killed.”

  The guy stood up. “Maybe you can help,” he said.

  “No,” said Mr. Sanders. He raised a hand toward the guy and made nixing motions across his neck. “Don’t. Celeste, please go. Really.”

  “We could go a lot faster with our investigation if you will finally let me talk to her.”

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Bryan Wolsey. I’m a forensic financial investigator.”

  “You’re the one looking in on those financial errors in the accounting department,” she said.

  He smiled, pushing his glasses halfway up his nose, but they slowly slid back down again, hanging precariously at the tip. “You could probably help us with gathering information. It would make this go more smoothly.”

  She looked at Mr. Sanders. “What is he talking about?”

  “It’s nothing, Celeste,” Mr. Sanders waved his hand at Wolsey. “Don’t bother her. She doesn’t know anything. She was a little princess and wasn’t involved with the business. She spent the money; she didn’t care where it came from.”

  It took everything she had not to throw something at him, as it was, she didn’t have anything in hand. That’s all he thought she was? He had made her feel useless for years. It was that belittling, know-it-all attitude that she had despised. “I did no such thing. I worked when I turned 18 and lived off my own income. Yes, I was privileged and no, I wasn’t interested in being in real estate but I was no brat.”

  Wolsey raised his hand up in a stop pose. “If I may? I don’t think she was lazy. After looking over the financial records, there were very rarely checks written to her. He spent a lot on birthdays and Christmas gifts, but it certainly looks like she took care of herself.” He smiled sympathetically her way, but it was the same smile a crocodile gives to a sick gazelle, promising to be harmless but really waiting for the right moment. “Why don’t you tell me, though, your father spent a lot of money himself, didn’t he?”

  She blinked. She wasn’t too sure where he was going. “He loved antiques. Mr. Chandler said he spent a lot of money on that.”

  “Did you know if your father talked about starting other businesses? Did you know of any reason why he would take money out of this company?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Sanders glared at Wolsey. “Don’t start. There’s no point.”

  “Your father,” Mr. Wolsey said, “was really funneling money out not only of his savings and his house, but from this company. He spent it on businesses that folded, pyramid schemes that collapsed. He got involved with some bad people, and they’re willing to testify. We’re talking millions. And if you were in on it, you could go to jail. It’s fraud to take money to scam other people, into fraud investment accounts. Money was taken from employees here, like promised retirement funds, health benefits that weren’t paid for. All of that is gone. If you don’t tell us your part in it, it could mean big trouble. I don’t think you had anything to do with it of course, but if you did, it’s best to talk about it. If you tell me, I might be able to help you.”

  She couldn’t believe a single word of it. “My father would never do such a thing. He loved this company.”

  “He loved it so much that he nearly brought it to bankruptcy. Maybe he didn’t mean to. Many he meant well and if his plans went right he would have put all the money back. But that’s the problem with business investments. They don’t always work out.”

  “That’s enough,” Mr. Sanders said. He got up and placing both palms on the table and leaning over it. “Wolsey, don’t talk to her any more. She had nothing to do with it. I don’t even know if what you’re saying is accurate. Your investigation isn’t complete. You’re throwing accusations around without getting the facts.”

  Mr. Wolsey’s hand drifted to the bridge of his glasses. “If we could get information from a source involved, it would make my investigations a lot quicker.”

  “She doesn’t know anything!”

  “It’s all lies,” she said. They both looked at her. “All of it. My father would never start other companies, scams. He may not have been very good with money, but that’s because he was generous to others and he spent a lot on things he loved. Besides, he had no time. “

  “What do you mean?” Bryan asked.

  “He never had a day off. He was either in the office or out with clients. His downtime was spent at antique stores and with me. “

  Bryan smiled again, and this time his teeth looked as sharp. “I think you know your father spent a lot of time at the office here, but that doesn’t mean he was here always working on this company. It only takes a few phone calls to the right people to start funneling money out of a company and into others.”

  She was shaking her head when Sanders stepped in between them. “That’s it. Mr. Wolsey, please leave the room for a few minutes. I’ll talk to Celeste. You’re not to talk to her unless I’m here.”

  Mr. Wolsey nodded, recognizing he was crossing the line. He picked up some folders and then left, looking at Celeste the whole time as he was leaving, his eyes burning with questions.

  After he was gone, Celeste shuddered. How could this happen? Her father couldn’t have done those things. Was Sanders the scammer and he was blaming it on her father? She wouldn’t let him.

  Mr. Sanders turned on her, his usual disappointed frown on his face, the same one that had followed her since she was little and he had first worked with her father. “Celeste, I warned you before. You were supposed to stay away.”

  “I don’t intend to stay away. I came here to ask you directly. I’m tired of all of this.”

  “Me too,” he said. “I’m tired of being questioned. I’m tired of lies. I’m tired of seeing you running around with accusations as if I really am trying to be the bad guy and bring everything down. Don’t you see?” He picked up the paperwork that he and Mr. Wolsey had been going over. “This! This is what I’ve been doing since your father passed on. Banking errors and money missing from accounts. Millions of dollars gone and not coming back. If I don’t raise rates, every person working here goes, the tower goes and everyone loses. It’s either raise a few lease rates or go out of business.” He dropped the paperwork at her feet, the pages scattering around the floor. “And then there’s you, snooping around, making Leah crazy thinking I’m cheating on her. I’ve had nothing but trouble since your father died.”

  “Karma sucks, don’t it?” she said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She sucked in a breath, and held it. While holding it, it felt like she was sucking in her bravery. She, too, was tired. She was tired of running around clueless. She was also tired of Sanders. “Maybe if he hadn’t been killed, he could have…”

  “What do you mean, killed?” Sanders recoiled as though she had physically punched him. For once she surprised him.

  “Maybe you should tell me.” Now that it was here, she wasn’t turning back. “You were there when my father died… or perhaps just before. I haven’t been able to figure out the details in between just yet.”

  His face changed, it was distorted and hard to read. The room ached in silence and for a second, she wished she had stayed with Warren. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

  Mr. Sanders rocked back on his heels. “Celeste.” He shook his head, and then his whole body shook harder. “I don’t know what you think you know...”

  “Did you?” she asked. “Did you kill him?”

  His face changed then, this time it was pure anger. “That’s enough. Get out, Celeste. You’re not to come here again. Ever. I’ll have you thrown out.”

  “I’ll prove it soon. Then it’s your butt that will get thrown out,” her voice shrieked. She felt a drip on her arm before she realized she was crying. She choked back a sob. “You wanted this so bad, didn’t you? And now there’s problems and the only one you can blame it on is my father. Well, if he were still around, he’d never do this. He would have never scammed anyone. I’ll prove it was you.”

  “You’ll never! Out!” He came after her then, hands raised.

  She stepped back, and then ran for the door. He came after her, down the short hall and out to the round room where the secretary, seeing the wild eyes of Mr. Sanders, stood up and backed away.

  “Get out,” Mr. Sanders shouted. He pointed at the elevator and then pointed at Celeste. “Don’t you dare come back here. I’m warning you.”

  “You try it,” she said, choking through her tears so much, she hardly recognized her own voice. “It’ll just prove I’m right. I thought for a moment that I was wrong about you. But to spread these lies. You know my father would never do this. All these years, all the time he worked with you. All the times he defended you when people said you were too harsh. And here you are, trying to come up with something to defile his name. I won’t let you.”

  “John,” she heard a voice and turned. Mr. Chandler had his door open and was peering out at them. “Celeste? What’s going on?”

  “It’s none of your business, Gary. Go back to work,” said Sanders, steaming and turning his finger on him. “Go.”

  “What’s wrong? Celeste are you OK?”

  “Don’t go near her,” Sanders said. “Don’t or I’ll fire you.”

  Mr. Chandler looked at her then, but remained quiet. She didn’t blame him. She didn’t want him fired over this. She waved her hand, cutting through the air with her palm. “Don’t yell at him. I’m going,” she said. She punched the elevator button and the door sprung open and she lunged into the elevator.

  “You should leave her alone,” Mr. Chandler said as she was waiting for the door to close. “She’s in enough trouble. Didn’t you see the news?”

  “I’ll make sure security holds her so the police can collect her.”

  The elevator closed. Security met her at the first floor. They grabbed her by the elbow, and she didn’t fight them off. She was too weak to fight any more.

  Beau leaned back with his head against the wall of the detective’s office. He’d been caught up for hours with paperwork and presenting evidence against Mr. Johnson. The paperwork had been much more demanding than what he had been used to as a cop in Virginia.

  He heard footsteps approaching the room and he straightened up in the chair.

  Celeste was plunked down in the chair next to him. She blinked at him and that hurt look crossed her already exhausted looking face.

  “What happened to you?”

  Her mouth twisted into a frown and she shook her head and then focused her eyes on a spot on the floor.

  The detective walked in then, went around to his side of the desk. “Well, your stories matched, which is more than I could say for half the people coming in here today.” The guy put thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose, holding it there. “I guess I have to drop the charges. But you’ll probably be pulled into court.”

  Celeste looked up, blinked and looked at Beau.

  “Is it okay if I take her home?”

  “Sure. If you see this guy again, though, call us. We’ll handle it.”

  Celeste’s mouth parted in silent shock. She stood up. “You brought me here to tell me you’re letting me go?”

  “I brought you here to get you out of the building, since you were causing trouble,” he said. “But since you probably own the building, it was just a public service, not an arrest.”

  Beau gently reached for her arm to guide her out, but she took it away from him. She did allow him to lead the way toward the exit.

  “What did you do?” Her body ached. She wanted to sleep. She couldn’t take any more. “How long have you been here?”

  “A million years,” he said. “You managed to get into much trouble?”

  She harrumphed.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Wouldn’t have been as bad if you’d never entered my life. I can’t believe you have the nerve to talk to me right now.”

  He sighed and as they exited the building, his phone rang and he answered it. She wasn’t trying to pay attention, and they were still walking across the parking lot, but he stopped suddenly, plugging up his free ear with a finger. She stopped walking, dropped her hands into her pockets and waited.

  Beau hung up a minute later. “We have to go.”

  “I thought that’s what we were doing,” she said.

  Beau grabbed her arm and nearly carried her across the lot. He broke into a trot to get to his car and she nearly tumbled trying to keep up.

  “Stop it! Let me go. I don’t want to go with you.”

  He spun on her. “Kris was hurt. She’s in the hospital.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  They arrived at the university hospital and Celeste asked at the desk about Kris. When they said something about being family, she lied and said claimed was her sister relation. They lead her and Beau through a different set of corridors from her previous visit.

  When she realized they were being directed to the ICU unit, she felt her legs wobbling underneath her and her head started to spin. She held on to Beau for support, her anger with him temporarily subdued with need. They were stopped in the hallway to identify themselves. She tried hard not to sob but she couldn’t help it, and she let out a cry. She was too distraught to be embarrassed. She couldn’t believe Kris had been hurt. It was hurt fault. She was sure of it.

  Beau wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her close. “Don’t worry. She’ll be OK. She’s in ICU now because she’s recovering from surgery. Hang in there.”

  “You didn’t tell me?” She meant to just ask, but it came out as a wail. It was too much to believe without seeing her and she didn’t want to see her. Like if he didn’t look at Kris, it wouldn’t be real at all. She could pretend Kris was back in her home, playing WoW, eating fried chicken out of a bucket.

  “I didn’t want you blaming yourself.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was hit in the head. She managed to call the police from her cell phone after the guy left. That’s all I know.”

  “Someone broke into her place?”

  “No…” his pause held for too long and she knew the answer before he said it. “She was at your house. Someone broke in while she was there. She was setting up those security cameras.”