Chapter Eighteen
The weather was warm, the humidity high, a typical late-September day in East Texas. Linc drove Carly to the truck yard that Saturday morning for her meeting with Donna Melendez. Earlier, Carly had phoned her office manager and asked her to come in. Then they were calling the sheriff.
Embezzling was a crime. Like the robbery Linc had attempted when he was a kid, there was no excuse.
Carly was sitting at her desk, Linc standing a few feet away, when Donna arrived. The door to the inner office stood open.
“Come on back,” Carly called out to her.
Silver-streaked black hair clipped at the nape of her neck, Donna smiled as she hurried into the private office. “Sorry I’m late. One of my grandkids has chicken pox. Her mother is frantic. I stopped to bring her some calamine lotion.”
She paused when she spotted Linc, leaning casually against the wall a few feet away. His height and build intimidated people. It was one of the reasons he was there.
“Oh, I didn’t see you, Mr. Cain. Good morning.” She glanced back and forth between him and Carly, took in their serious expressions. “What’s going on?”
Carly stayed seated, spoke to Donna across the desk. “I think that’s a question you need to answer, Donna. Why don’t you take a seat?”
The woman’s black eyebrows pulled into a frown as she sat down in one of the metal chairs on the other side of the desk. “How am I supposed to know what’s going on when I just got here? You aren’t making sense.” Her gaze shot to Linc. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You know about the loan I made Drake Trucking,” he said.
“Of course. That was very kind of you.”
“It was a business transaction. You gave me the profit and loss statement, but I also asked Carly for Drake’s account records. I had my CPA go over the books for the last five years, examine the records in detail.”
The color drained from Donna’s face.
“I bet you can guess what we found,” Carly said.
“I don’t . . . don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Linc pushed away from the wall. “I think you do. I think you know exactly what we found in those books.”
Donna shook her head, shifting her long dark hair across her back. Her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand you’re a thief,” Carly said. “That you pretended to be Joe’s friend—my friend—then stole two hundred thousand dollars and nearly bankrupted the company.”
“You worked for Joe for years,” Linc said. “He trusted you completely. Two years ago you started stealing from him. What happened? Or did you just get greedy?”
Donna leaned forward, her arms wrapped around her middle, hugging herself. She straightened, took a shaky breath. “I didn’t do it for me—I did it for Joe. I did it to protect him.” Donna burst into tears.
When Carly started to rise, Linc shot her a glance that warned her to stay in her seat. Now wasn’t the time for her to be softhearted.
“Stealing is stealing,” he said. “You took the money. Now you’re going to jail.”
Donna swallowed a sob. “I didn’t know what else to do. He wanted money. I knew Joe wouldn’t pay him. I had to do something. You don’t know what that man is like.”
“Who?” Linc pressed.
“El Jefe. Three of his men came . . . came to my house.” Donna inhaled a shaky breath. “They knew Joe was sick. They said El Jefe would take care of the people who worked here. He would ensure their loads would arrive safely. The drivers would not . . . not be harmed. He would provide protection, but it would cost money. Joe was a man of principle—I knew he wouldn’t pay.”
Carly leaned across the desk. “So you made the decision yourself—using Joe’s money.”
Donna wiped tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t know what else to do. One of El Jefe’s men gave me instructions. I was to open a bank account. Every month, I was to transfer money into the account.”
“Which added up to a couple hundred thousand dollars,” Carly said.
“Almost.”
“How did El Jefe get the money?” Linc asked. “I doubt he was writing checks.”
She swallowed. “The bank account was a way to keep the transfer secret. A few days after I transferred the money, I went into the bank and took it out in cash. I put the money in a paper bag, then set it beside a trash can in the city park, and someone picked it up.”
“You saw them?” Carly asked.
“No. They told me to put the bag down and leave, so that’s what I did.”
“And you never saw anyone,” Linc pressed. “You gave El Jefe two hundred thousand dollars and never saw a thing.”
She glanced up, her eyes wet and glistening. “It didn’t all go to him. Part of the money went . . . went to me.” She pressed her trembling lips together. “They insisted I take it so I would keep quiet. I would be part of it whether I liked it or not. Ten percent of what I stole.”
Linc should have been surprised but he wasn’t. “So you aren’t completely innocent in all this, are you?”
“I kept it. I didn’t know what else to do. I meant to give it back to Joe when he got well. But then Joe died and Miguel’s little girl got sick, so I gave it to him.”
Linc just shook his head. “Jesus . . .” Unbelievable. He sure as hell hadn’t seen that one coming.
Carly stood up behind her desk. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how much of what you’re telling me is true. I know twenty thousand dollars showed up in Miguel’s bank account. Apparently it went to a doctor for Angelina so some good came out of this. If I’d come home earlier, maybe I could have done something. Joe and I could have found a way to deal with the problem and maybe none of this would have happened.”
Linc’s anger began to build. “You’re not taking the blame for this,” he said to Carly. He focused his attention on Donna. “Whatever your reasons, it wasn’t your decision to make. Joe was a smart man. Over the years, he’d faced men as tough as El Jefe. He would have figured a way to handle things.”
It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from overstepping and firing the woman on the spot. Tossing her in jail? That was another matter. There was a good chance she’d actually thought she was helping Joe.
“Carly?” he said, hoping she would make the right decision.
“Whatever your reasons, you can’t work here anymore, Donna. I don’t trust you now, and in your job as office manager, that’s crucial.”
Donna started crying again. “I don’t want to go to jail. Maybe I can find a way to pay you back.”
Carly glanced over at Linc, but he stayed silent. The decision was hers.
“You have to leave Drake, but I don’t think you should go to jail. You were doing what you thought was best. You didn’t spend the money you got from El Jefe. You gave it to a sick little girl. Joe might have done the same thing.”
Donna made a sound in her throat. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“One last thing,” Linc said, regaining Donna’s attention. “After Carly took over, no more payments were made to El Jefe. Is that the reason Miguel Hernandez was murdered?”
Donna crossed herself. “Dios mío, I pray that’s not the reason, but I don’t know.”
“Pack your things,” Carly said. “I don’t want to see you when I come in here Monday morning.”
Donna just nodded. Tears in her eyes, she rose from the chair and left the office, closing the door quietly behind her.
Linc walked over to Carly and eased her into his arms. He could feel her trembling. “You did exactly the right thing. I’m proud of you.”
Carly buried her face in his chest and started crying.
* * *
Carly sat in Linc’s truck as he drove back to the ranch. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning and already she’d had one hellacious day.
Her gaze went to Linc where he sat behind the wheel. “When we were talking to Donna, I remembered something El Jefe had said.”
His eyes met hers. “What was it?”
“Something about money—that after I started working for him I wouldn’t have any more financial problems. He knew the company was in trouble, Linc. He knew because he was draining the profits, putting Joe in a financial bind.”
“He was trying to push your grandfather into a corner, leave him no choice but to cooperate. At least that was the plan.”
“Grandpa Joe would never have agreed. He’d have lost the business before he’d do anything illegal.”
“So you believe Donna’s story. You think most of the money she embezzled went to El Jefe and not to her.”
Carly glanced over. “I’m sure your investigator can find out, but I know what El Jefe’s like, how vicious he can be. I think Donna’s telling the truth. I think she believed El Jefe would kill Joe.”
“Miguel is dead, so maybe she was right.”
Carly thought of the crime scene photos, the pool of blood beneath Miguel’s head, and a shudder rippled through her.
“Donna cost you a couple hundred thousand dollars,” Linc said. “That’s not chump change.”
“I know. You may not believe it, but it’s partly my fault. If I’d come back when I should have, it might not have happened.”
“Carly—”
“It’s done. I’m here now and I’m starting where Joe left off. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the end of it.”
“Except for El Jefe.”
With a sigh, she slumped back in the seat. “Yes.”
Linc reached over and squeezed her hand. “We’ll deal with him together. You aren’t alone anymore.”
She didn’t argue, though it wasn’t really true. For now Linc was her ally. Once he fulfilled what he considered his obligation to Joe, he would be out of her life and she would again be on her own.
She felt tired just thinking about it.
She jumped when her cell phone rang, hurriedly dug it out of her purse. The phone was playing her ring tone, not signaling a text, so it wasn’t El Jefe, or at least she hoped not. She checked the screen but didn’t recognize the number.
“This is Carly.”
“Sheriff Howler here. Got some news for you on that break-in at your place. You need to come down to the department.”
She covered the phone. “It’s Howler. He’s got information on the break-in. He wants me to come in to his office.”
Linc slowed and pulled the truck over to the side of the road. “Tell him we’re on our way.”
“We’ll be right there,” she said to Howler as Linc started turning the truck around.
“You and Cain?” the sheriff asked.
Carly’s mind flashed back to Deputy Rollins’s report, which mentioned the night they had spent together. “That’s right.”
“You bein’ Joe’s granddaughter, I figured you had more sense. I’ll see you when you get here.” The sheriff hung up the phone.
Carly tried to ignore what felt like embarrassment mixed with uncertainty. Was she making a fool of herself with Linc? Was half of Iron Springs laughing at her behind her back or maybe feeling sorry for her?
She didn’t want to be another of Lincoln Cain’s women and yet here she was, sleeping with him while the whole town speculated on how long the affair would last.
There wasn’t nearly enough time to compose herself before Linc pulled the GMC into a parking space in front of the Iron Springs Sheriff’s Department. With a sigh, Carly climbed down from the truck and the two of them walked into the building. Silver-haired Daisy Johnson was at work behind the counter.
“Sheriff’s been expecting you,” Daisy said, dragging a pair of reading glasses off her nose as she rose from the chair at her desk. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Send ’em in,” the sheriff called out from his office, mostly out of sight behind the open door.
Howler kicked his boots from the top of the desk to the floor and sat up a little straighter as they walked in. “Take a seat,” he said.
They sat down in straight-backed wooden chairs across from him. “You told me you had information on the break-in,” Carly said. “What did you find out?”
“We got prints,” the sheriff said. “Plenty of ’em. Guy wasn’t trying to hide his identity.”
“Who is he?” Linc asked.
“Fella’s name is Raymond Jackson Archer. White male, thirty-six years old, arrested in Austin six days ago on a domestic violence charge. Beat the hell out of some woman he was living with. Got out on bail and took off. The break-in at your place is the first sign of him the law’s come across since he skipped town.”
“I don’t understand,” Carly said. “Why would Raymond Archer vandalize my house?”
“Good question,” the sheriff said. “We’re looking into it, getting all the facts lined up. I was hoping you might have something to add that would be useful.”
“Such as?”
He studied her down the length of his nose. “Maybe Archer was an old boyfriend. Or someone else who had a grudge against you.”
“No. I’ve never heard of him.”
“The thing is, destruction like that looks to be personal. You gotta figure there’s some kinda connection.”
“I’m telling you I don’t know him.”
The sheriff turned to Linc. “What about you? Appears you’re in the picture now. Whole town’s talkin’ about Carly staying with you out at your place. This guy got some kind of beef with you? Maybe he’s taking it out on the little lady?”
Carly’s mind slid past the irritating phrase to the news that the whole town was talking about her. But then she had known that already.
“I’ve got enemies,” Linc admitted. “None by the name of Ray Archer.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see.” The sheriff lumbered to his feet, hitching his pants up so they fit better over his belly. “Anything new turns up, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, till we find this guy and bring him in, you best keep your eyes open.”
Linc made no reply.
It wasn’t surprising that a man as successful as Linc had enemies, but obviously so did she.
Carly felt as if the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders. Who the hell was Ray Archer? Was the trashing of her house really personal? If so, why was his anger directed at her?