Rebecca Zanetti - Forgotten Sins

Daniel stalked by her doorway, halting suddenly to lean against her door frame. “Rough day?”

She was too tired to spar. “Yes.”

He nodded, his dark eyes serious. “I meant it about helping if you need help. Believe it or not, I do understand the concept of teamwork.” Amusement lifted his upper lip.

Josie grinned. “That’s good to know. Though I still want the promotion.”

He nodded, the grin widening. “Ditto. But either way, I’m here if you need help.”

“Thanks.” Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy.

“Anytime.” He turned, whistling as he maneuvered back to his office.

Josie flipped back open the file folder for Hall’s Funeral Home. Something was just plain and simple bothering her about these accounts, and she couldn’t figure out what. The client had purchased several different types of coffins from different vendors, and the information was all misfiled.

She carefully cataloged them in the right place and then subtracted the costs from the operating budget. Days ago she’d meant to do so, but since she’d already thought she’d found the problem, she’d concentrated elsewhere. And of course, between finding bodies, being kidnapped, and trying to figure out her life… she’d been busy.

The number flashed on her calculator. There was a surplus of thirteen thousand dollars.

Exactly.

The exact amount that had been missing from Larson Corporation. Son of a bitch. She double-checked the figure, her mind spinning. Yep. Unlucky thirteen. Billy had been laundering money throughout several businesses. She hadn’t thought to compare the different accounts to each other. Excitement sped up her breath. She could solve this.

Vicki escorted a young woman inside. “Mrs. Ager from Agers Hardware is here.”

Josie took a deep breath, closing the file. She’d figure it out after the meeting.

She stood, a genuine smile sliding across her face. Hopefully Billy hadn’t stolen from Agers. But chances were looking good that he had. Should she tell her client or wait until she had it all figured out? She definitely had a duty to inform the client. Man, she was going to get the firm sued. “Madge. It’s good to see you.”

Madge grinned back, wiping her hands down dark jeans and taking a seat. “Thanks for seeing me. I’m not sure about taxes and whether or not we can write off the trip we took back East.” She’d pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail, and her face was free of makeup. Her husband, Sam, had inherited the family business along with his brother about two years ago. “You know we have to do everything just right since Sam’s brother is a prosecutor who owns half of the business.” Bloodshot brown eyes glanced at the walls. “Oh, I like your horse painting.”

“Thanks.” Western art had always been one of her interests. “So did you bring receipts?”

“Yes.” Madge dug into a large backpack, yanking out a stack of tattered receipts. “Uh, they’re not in order.”

“That’s okay.” Compared to the tattered papers from the strip club earlier, these were pristine. Josie tapped them into a neat pile. She needed to find the right words to tell Madge about the discrepancies in the files.

“So”—Madge leaned forward—“I, uh, have a weird question for you.”

So long as it didn’t deal with strippers or writing off golf clubs, it wouldn’t be the weirdest question of the day. “Fire away.”

Madge cleared her throat. “Hypothetically, if Sam and I split, do I get half the business?”

Josie sat back, mind whirling. The tick-tock of the antique clock on her desk sharpened. “Oh, Madge. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Madge crossed her legs and settled into the seat. “But a girl should always plan.”

Wasn’t that the truth? Josie smoothed hair away from her face. “Well, the short answer is no. Washington is a community property state. An inheritance is separate—not community—property, and since Sam inherited his half of the business, it’s technically not yours.”

Madge grimaced. “Yeah, that figures.” She rolled her neck. “So did they find out who broke into your offices?”

“No, not yet.” Josie kept waiting for the phone to ring or the police to show up. Somebody had to have discovered Billy by now. Didn’t a body start to smell really bad at some point? Not that he hadn’t already smelled.

Josie focused on Madge, trying to forget that terrible day. “But I want to reassure you that your file was with me that night, as was my laptop, so nobody obtained your financial records.”

“Thank goodness.” Madge leaned back with a sigh. “Things are so stressful between Sam and his brother, you know? I mean, if any of the financial stuff got out, we’d be screwed.”

Josie frowned. “So you’re aware that there are financial issues with your account.”

Madge nodded, reaching into her bag. “Well, yeah. That’s kind of why I’m here.” She lifted out a small silver handgun. Her nose wrinkled. “I’m really sorry about this.” Her elbow tucked into her stomach and kept the weapon hidden from anyone in the hallway.

Fear slammed into Josie’s stomach. She leaned back and away from the weapon. “What the hell?”

Madge’s eyes glittered. “Well, we were working with Billy, and everything was fine, until he went to rehab.” Her lips tightened white. “I guess he found religion. Or a conscience or something.” She stomped her foot and cackled out a laugh. “Moron.”

Josie shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, well… before Sam and me inherited the hardware store, we, uh, kind of were helping this guy named Max Penton with his business.” Madge’s eyes flashed a wild blue.

“Which was?” Josie could scream and duck under the desk, but would Madge shoot Vicki if she came running? Or Shane?

“He sells meth. A lot of it.” Madge picked at a scab on the hand holding the gun. “But not to kids. Never to kids.”

Was the woman on something? Josie forced anger away. She needed to focus. Shane wouldn’t have been worried by the sweet-looking Madge; he wouldn’t come check on her. Pudgy Madge looked softer than Josie. “So Billy helped you break the law?”

The gun wavered. “Yeah. The guy would do anything for meth. Actually, he showed us how we could take the money from helping Max and make it look like it came through the business. A way to keep the money from Sam’s brother.” She snarled. “You have no idea what it’s like working your ass off every day. Everything goes to his brother. The favorite one—the prosecutor. Asshole.”

Crazy. The woman was bat shit crazy. “So Billy taught you how to launder money.” How deep did Madge’s resentment go toward her brother-in-law?

“Yeah. Billy had the extra ledger so we could keep track and give the good receipts to his brother. We hid the extra money in off-shore accounts—and Billy used the accounts of his other clients without their knowledge.” Madge hissed and spittle bubbled at the corners of her mouth. “But then Billy went to rehab, and you got the ledgers.” Light glinted off the steel barrel of the gun as she gestured. “I’m due this money. I deserve it.”

Josie’s shoulders bunched with the need to duck to the floor. The knitting needles in her bottom drawer wouldn’t be enough protection from a gun. There had to be some way to reason with the lunatic. “You know Billy’s dead, right?”

“Yeah. Max shot him. Then George was supposed to get the files from you, but he didn’t.” She tilted her head, the gun settling to point at Josie’s chest. Dark circles of sweat stained her flowered shirt. “What happened to George, anyway?”

Josie’s chest pounded. “I’m still not sure about George.” She surveyed the empty hallway. “What’s your plan here?”

Madge sighed, regret flashing across her face. False regret. “I’m a good person, you know.”

“In my experience, people who spend time trying to convince people they’re a good person are actually trying to convince themselves.” Where was Shane? “You know you’re not a good person.”

Madge’s head jerked up, her eyes a crazy, wide blue. “We’ll see about that now, won’t we? Give me the files.”

Josie pushed them toward Madge along with the ledger.

“Thanks.” She shoved them all in the big bag. “Now here’s the deal. I’ll shoot you.” Her gaze hardened. “I really will.”

Josie believed her. “This won’t work.”

“Sure it will. We get up, go toward the conference room in the back, and head down the east stairwell.” Madge sneered as she stood.

Josie swallowed. “What then?”

“Then we meet Max and give him the ledger. He’ll figure out what to do.” Madge gestured for Josie to get up.

“He’ll kill me. You know that, right?” Josie edged around the desk, her gaze on the gun. Madge had about six inches and forty or so pounds on Josie.

“Maybe not. I mean, maybe we can convince him you won’t tell.”

If Madge got her out of the building, she was dead. “Okay.” Josie eased toward the door.

Madge grabbed her bag. “I have the gun right behind my bag. I’ll shoot you if I need to.”

“I know.” Josie stepped into the hallway, glancing toward the far lobby. God, please let Shane be on guard.

Shane sat, his legs out before him, a legal pad in his hand. He glanced up.

She tipped her head toward Madge and turned the opposite way.

Vicki glanced up from her computer screen. “How are things?”

“Great.” Josie kept moving. She couldn’t get Vicki hurt. “Madge and I are heading to the conference room to spread out.”

“Josie,” Shane said, suddenly right behind her.

She jumped, partially turning. “Hi, Shane.” She gestured toward Madge. Her breath caught. “This is Madge, my client. We’re heading to the conference room.”

Shane smiled, all teeth. He extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Madge.”

Madge eyed Josie and then Shane. With a hiss, she dropped the bag and pointed the gun at Shane. “Damn it.” She straightened her shoulder, gaze surveying Shane. “You look like danger.”

“Thank you.” Shane shifted his stance like a cougar about to strike.

Madge steeled her shoulders. “Yeah. There’s only one way to deal with a guy like you.”

Oh God. She was going to shoot! Without a thought, Josie shot a roundhouse kick at Madge’s hand.

The gun went off.

Shane bent at the waist, his hands going to his stomach. Blood oozed.

“Shane!” Josie gasped.

His eyes widened.

Madge grabbed Josie and pressed the gun to her neck. “You’re next.” She tugged Josie toward the elevator; backing away from Shane and a wide-eyed Vicki. Accountants and secretaries peered out of their offices, several with cell phones held at their ears. Calling the police, hopefully.

“Let her go and I won’t kill you,” Shane hissed through clenched teeth. His skin paled, yet he stood upright, one hand still covering the wound.

He’d been shot. How bad? Josie tried to halt their movements. Madge dug the gun in harder, and Josie winced.

Madge punched the elevator button. “If anyone comes near us, I’ll kill her. You know I will.” The door slid open and she yanked Josie inside.

Josie bit her lip. Shane stood near the door; his jaw set hard, a murderous glint in his eyes. Blood continued to soak through his T-shirt. How bad was the wound? Josie struggled to focus but couldn’t tell.

The door slid shut.

“You didn’t have to shoot him.” Josie tried to tilt her head away from the cold gun stabbing into her jugular as the elevator descended. Anger made stars dance in front of her eyes.

Madge shrugged from behind her. “Yes, I did. I could tell from one look at that guy—he’s a hunter. He’ll keep coming. Nice kick, by the way. Who do you think you are? Rambo?” She dug sharp nails into Josie’s arm, her extra six inches of height coming in handy.

Josie blinked rapidly. Her kick had been useless. Maybe Shane was right. Maybe she was a ball of fluff. Fear filtered through the anger. What if the bullet had hit something important? What if Shane was really hurt? Without a doubt he wouldn’t seek medical help while some crazy woman held Josie hostage. He’d come after her.

That’s what family did.

The doors slid open. Two security guards, their stances low, pointed weapons at them.

Madge yanked her toward the door. “Make a move, boys, and I’ll shoot her in the neck.”

They didn’t move, but a drip of sweat slid down the pudgy face of the man closest to them.

Josie hustled to keep up with Madge’s longer legs across the entryway and outside into the pelting rain, her neck afire from the scrape of the barrel. She wouldn’t think about it. If Madge tripped…