Gut clenching, he took his seat beside her under the trees and waited, all thoughts of sex a distant memory.

  “Yeah, hang on a second,” she said, standing, motioning for Joe to precede her inside.

  He knew when she put the phone on speaker and sat on the couch that Sierra’s Web had more news for them. Weight settled upon him, as it did anytime his fraud case was involved.

  Would his innocence ever be proven? Or would he go to the grave thought to be the man who’d cheated Bellair Software and its investors?

  He had to believe in himself.

  Believing was all he’d ever had, and he’d used it to climb out of some pretty deep hellholes.

  “We’ve got a list of time stamps of fraudulent activity,” Glen said as soon as McKenna let him know he was speakerphone. “Since we can’t email, Joe, I’m going to read off the list for you to take down.”

  His laptop already on in front of him, Joe opened a new document.

  And typed quickly, efficiently, as Glen read off names. Some known to him, some not, waiting for one to pop out. Just one. That was all they needed. A clue to who. Or to why.

  When Glen finished, Joe looked back over the list. Nothing stood out. Not a single name on the list represented anything untoward.

  “All of these people have better-than-average technical skills,” Glen said. “Working with a tech company, one would expect that, so it’s not surprising that the fraud was done with electronic modifications.”

  Yeah, but he wasn’t a techie. He was an accountant. The boring guy behind the scenes crunching numbers so they could all create and sell innovative software solutions.

  “Our problem is the timelines.” Glen broke into his thoughts. “Based on what we know about the software updates for sales and narrowing down potential times the returns virus would have had to be loaded, based on when it hit, cross-checking with employee time cards, interviews and social media posts, we’ve determined that not one person on this list could have done this.”

  And they were back to him.

  He was the one person who’d had access to his computer any time of the day—or night, if he accessed it remotely. Yada yada. He’d heard it all in court. Over and over.

  “Hud’s team is looking at the theory that there’s more than one employee involved.” Glen’s words came like all the others he’d shared on that call. Professional to the point of prosaic. Yet they hit Joe as an avalanche.

  Looking back at the list, he read it again, not for any memories of anything that could have been considered questionable—even someone getting caught trying to cheat on overtime—but rather, for associations.

  Others at Sierra’s Web, like the personnel manager, would be better equipped to know who hung out with who—or had a beef with who, for that matter.

  “Anyone on there you knew personally?”

  As in, someone who’d been his accomplice?

  “No.” Again, not a techie. But he kept the thought to himself. Could be, probably was, that the experts were looking for someone with an axe to grind against Joe. He’d already been down that road long ago and had come up blank.

  Back to square one.

  The only way to get his name cleared was to find out who’d framed him.

  Joe looked at the list in front of him so hard his eyes hurt. He could feel McKenna’s presence on the other end of the couch as she listened to the conversation.

  He needed to find something.

  Anything.

  That needle in the world’s largest stack of hay...

  “Colin Emerson and Jerry Webb worked on Stellar’s lay down,” he said as the two names seemed to meld together in front of his eyes. “They were team leaders during the trial period, given special overtime. And bonuses...”

  And their names on that list meant they’d been present during the fraudulent activity...

  “Got it,” Glen said. “We’ll dive deeper with them. See what we can find.”

  A flood of relief sailed through Joe. Even if the names brought nothing, he felt as though progress was being made.

  “One other thing,” Glen said and, steeling himself, Joe waited for the here it comes news. “A couple of people on my team are leaning harder and harder toward the Bellairs. I know they were completely cleared from the very beginning, but it’s worth another conversation. I’d like to know your take on them.”

  “James, CEO, father to Julius and uncle to Mark, who are both VPs, and have seats on the board.” Opening his mind to the trio wasn’t easy. He’d spent months trying to wipe out the years’ worth of memories he’d thought they’d built together.

  If they’d framed him, though, he wanted to know. Had spent many, many sleepless nights going over facts and records, schedules and functions, more so than the investigators had done, and had come up empty.

  As had all financial forensics regarding their bank accounts and spending habits.

  Glen had Joe’s notes on them, as well as the investigative case files.

  He was asking for Joe’s personal opinion. Everyone knew he’d hung with Julius and Mark like family.

  “It makes zero sense that it would be them,” he said, clearing his mind to find the facts—unhampered by pain of rejection. “Their company took a big hit over the scandal. They stood to make much more money just by continuing to do what they were doing.”

  If the teams were throwing out theories... “It seems to me that whoever did this felt as though they weren’t getting their fair share of the wealth. Why else would you sabotage your own employer?”

  “It’s an angle we’re looking at.”

  “And you’d see me, right?” Joe said before Glen could come right out and point the obvious finger. He’d asked the company to give the case a complete look—with carte blanche to investigate him as well. He’d figured it was the only way to prove what he hadn’t done.

  He’d never figured for having a woman he intended to bed sitting there hearing it all.

  “You weren’t being paid commensurate to CFOs of other Fortune 500 companies.”

  “I was young and new—they gave me, a nobody fresh out of college, a chance. The opportunity to excel and advance, and I did so more quickly than most in my field. They paid me far more than I’d have been worth anywhere else.”

  “In the beginning, yes, but where you were when all this went down?”

  “I wanted stock options beyond what I could afford. That’s what I asked for and what I got. What I still have, actually. I bought and sold Bellair stock with my own funds but never touched the shares the company gave me.”

  Glen, McKenna and the other Sierra’s Web experts would believe him or not.

  “I became quite wealthy working at Bellair. It makes more sense that whoever did this—you know, to take so many risks, tampering with various departments...it’s like they went overboard to make the company look...vulnerable.”

  “It made a dent in their earnings, but they’ve already bounced back,” Glen pointed out. “Notwithstanding whatever might happen in civil court with investors who lost millions.”

  Another fact he couldn’t refute.

  “All I can tell you is that James, Julius, Mark—they were like family to me, treated me like a son, a brother. They were always checking in to make certain I was happy, to be sure someone else wasn’t going to steal me away from them...”

  And it appeared that he’d burned them.

  Hard as he tried, he couldn’t show the lie to that image.

  And was starting to wonder if he should just accept what was, cut his losses and get on with the rest of his life. He had his freedom. He had his health. He had his wealth. He had his degrees.

  From there, he could choose any multitude of endeavors that would support the lifestyle that made him happy.

  He just wouldn’t have the respect that he’d fought tooth and nail to earn.

  And McKenna would leave thinking she’d protected a criminal. Believing she’d been turned on by a thief.

  The thought kept him glued to the fight.

  * * *

  Joe stood as McKenna disconnected from Glen’s call. Phone reports were good, so far. There didn’t seem to be any activity tracking their lines.

  And while the #wheresjoenow hashtag was growing ever more popular, the Sierra’s Web experts had found no credible recent photos or mentions of sightings that were close enough to their true location to be of concern.

  There were more details surfacing about the game console Joe had stolen as a kid, along with new private sale listings of the type of games that he’d had on him when he’d been arrested. And an upsurge in the search for those old games. Some thought the key to where he’d be, and to proving what he’d done, would be found in the games he’d played.

  As if he’d actually had a chance to play them before his father sold them for cash.

  McKenna found the entire witch hunt excruciating. People didn’t seem to care that Joe had been found not guilty, didn’t even afford him the reasonable doubt he’d had before and during his trial. The hunt for Joe was a game in and of itself. A dangerous, debilitating game for the man whose life wasn’t a game at all.

  Sierra’s Web had verified that Joe’s father’s last known residence was Alaska. Verified employment records for a fishery, and a Sierra’s Web expert would be arriving in the little village to investigate further yet that day, under the guise of vacationing away from it all.

  Before they’d ended the call, Glen had given Joe time stamps on various computer activities that his crew had compiled with the list of names, and Joe had agreed to go through them with the hope of finding a solid alibi for himself during any of the times mentioned.

  Some of it was information that had already come out in court. Some of the times were newly discovered. Glen’s team had already marked off the times coinciding with proof that Joe had been in the office. His list, the times they couldn’t verify, was shorter.

  And there he stood, open computer in hand, leaning against the counter as he studied the screen.

  Feeling caged?

  She would be.

  Though, ironically, with him there, and in light of their recent conversation, she wasn’t feeling at all shut in. Or trapped.

  She was yearning to connect with him. To be there not just to protect him from death or physical harm, but to help with the mental/emotional tension if she could.

  To protect his overall health as well as his life.

  Not her job description. And yet...not entirely a stretch, either. Compassion was as much a part of the human experience as breathing.

  “You’re free to go if you’d like.”

  Startled, not in a good way, she looked up to see him watching her. “I thought we were through with all of that.”

  His shrug didn’t seem to carry a lot of oomph. “Every report seems to sink me further,” he pointed out. “I know you’ve never been convinced of my innocence, and with what happened out there... I just want it clear that you don’t have to stay.”

  “I’m always free to quit my job,” she said. “Or to take myself off a case.”

  She wasn’t going.

  “You’re okay with sleeping with a thief?”

  Those words, even given the circumstances, sent fire to her crotch.

  “Okay, well, we won’t be sleeping together. Rule number one. And beyond that, I’m attracted to your bod, Joe, not to...”

  She wanted to keep it light. For both their sakes. But she couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “I know what I see,” she said then. “The choices you’re making, to pursue this case when you could take your money and run. The calm and control you exhibit every single time the phone rings with more inculpatory news. The way you thought of William—a total stranger—before yourself. The way you—a powerful, wealthy, self-made man—follow orders without question or complaint...”

  The tender yet undeniable hunger in his kiss. She had to stop. If she didn’t, she’d convince herself to fall in love with the guy.

  “You said the Bellairs were like family to you...” His voice had changed when he’d mentioned the three men with whom he’d worked. There’d been...real emotion there. Hurt?

  Sorrow?

  For their betrayal?

  Or his own?

  The facts definitely pointed to the latter, but she couldn’t put stealing from the family who’d given him his opportunities on the man she’d come to know.

  “Yeah, they were like family.”

  “Just at work?”

  Shaking his head, he glanced at his computer for a long minute, then set it down. And sat down in a chair pulled out from the kitchen table. Turning sideways, he leaned his hands on the back of the chair and faced her.

  “You grew up in that world,” he told her. “You know how the holidays go, the celebrations. There aren’t many small family gatherings.”

  He was right, to a point.

  “But you always have your inner circle.”

  He nodded. “I was invited, by James Bellair, CEO and others, to pretty much every gathering—didn’t always choose to go.”

  But he went to all the big affairs. So not her. Completely opposite of her, in fact.

  “James’s wife died when Julius and his sister, Priscilla, were in grade school. He remarried when they were starting junior high. Sheila’s nice, kind—she’s just much younger than James and is a jet-setter. She’s gone more than she’s home. But then, he lives at the office. It works for them. Not so much for Priscilla. Julius and James both said she was a handful through high school—drugs, drinking...as she got older, her antics got more sophisticated, but last I knew, she was still out drinking all the time. The pertinent thing here is that she found it a fun pastime to flirt with me whenever Sheila wasn’t around. Sheila would have called her out for it because she knew how hard I fought to be accepted on my own merit – not as the love interest of the daughter of the company’s owner. So I avoided any smaller functions when Sheila was gone.”

  Wondering how Sheilia knew what mattered most to Joe, swallowing back the instant flash of jealousy, she asked, “Was Priscilla older or younger than Julius?” Hoping she sounded kindly interested. And nothing more.

  “She’s a year older.”

  She’d gone to school with a Bellair but didn’t remember a girl. Or a Priscilla among any of the crowd she knew.

  “I’m sure you know what I’m talking about,” he continued. “The entitled, spoiled girl who thinks she can do no wrong, gets into trouble and generally makes life hell for her parents.”

  “I knew a few uppity kids, male and female, but there were a lot of nice kids at the club, too,” she said.

  “The Biltmore Country Club?”

  “Yeah. Some of those kids grew up to be philanthropists, educators. One girl I knew fairly well is a neonatal specialist at one of the largest children’s hospitals in the world, and another founded a Doctors Without Borders–type foundation, sending doctors all over the world to help communities that don’t have regular medical care...”

  Standing, he went to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, nodding. “You don’t have to sell me on the all the good done by society people in Phoenix.”

  Of course not. He was one of them.

  And...it occurred to her, for a few minutes there, they’d been almost like normal people who could have met at the club. Chatting about things they knew. A society they both understood.

  Except that she hadn’t been to the Biltmore since she was fourteen.

  More, she had absolutely no desire to ever go back. To that club, or any other part of that lifestyle.

  Chapter 18

  By late afternoon, Joe was not only accepting of what was to come that night, he was champing at the bit to get to it. Every time McKenna moved, he thought about moving with her. Watching her face as he filled her with pleasure.

  Mostly, he tried not to watch her at all. With his back to her, he spent most of the afternoon at the kitchen table, plugging times into various spreadsheets, all organized differently to give him clear, simple looks at situations. A spreadsheet for the returns virus, one of the sales program change, another for inventory changes—all cataloging times, employees on duty and ones with known technical skills who could have completed the job, whether they were on duty or not. After his call with Glen, he added Julius, his cousin Mark and James onto all three spreadsheets, just to compare timelines with times he knew for certain the three of them had been occupied at social gatherings.

  Golf games.

  Fishing expeditions on the yacht.

  Just before the sun started to set, he added another spreadsheet for timelines. Listing all fraudulent activities across the top and filling in all applicable time frames into the rows below.

  And then added one that listed all the downloaded online banking transactions he’d amassed that did not match up to ones the prosecution had collected after his arrest. James, Julius and Mark were on those, too, along with him. That one was blankest of all. Only the four of them ever accessed online banking for the company.

  Which meant that the only thing that made sense was the theory that whoever had defrauded Bellair had had an accomplice at the bank.

  “Can you call Glen and have them check to see which employees have known association with Bellair’s bank?” he called out without turning around to see what McKenna was doing.

  “Yep.” Her reply came right away, and he forced himself not to turn around.

  Dusk had fallen, and McKenna had pulled all the blinds and turned on the lights by the time he found something. An anomaly he hadn’t seen before.

  Because he’d never seen timelines side by side on one sheet.

  McKenna had put a plate of fresh-cut veggies with some ranch dip in front of him at some point. He’d munched away and turned to see an empty plate on the coffee table in front of her, too. He should have thought about dinner.