Chapter Twenty-Seven
Pounding on the front door woke me from my half sleep. I glanced at my alarm clock. Only three hours since I'd left the restaurant. Three hours since everything I thought I knew turned out to be a lie. The pounding sounded again, and I curled up on my side, pulling the covers up tight around my neck.
“Kimberly. Kimberly, I know you're in there.”
Beck. And by the sounds of it, he was right beneath my window. Great. The whole street could probably hear him. I gripped the covers tighter and held my breath. Hoping he'd go away. Back home to his wife.
“Kimberly. Please. I can explain everything. I know it looks bad, but I promise it's not how it seems.”
God, how clichéd was that line? I huffed out the breath I'd been holding. It was exactly how it looked. And I'd been stupid enough to believe he was different. That I could trust him. My eyes filled with tears and I squeezed them shut to stop them from falling. I refused to cry over him.
“Goddammit, Kimberly. I can't tell you like this; just let me in.”
I didn't want to see him, let alone hear the lies he'd try to spin to worm his way out of this.
“Okay. Okay, I'm leaving. But I'll be back. Every day until you let me explain. And if I have to do that at work, I will. Kimberly?”
I kept my eyes shut and pulled the covers over my head. No way was I doing this at the office. There was nothing he could say that would make this better. Nothing he could say that would stop the ache in my chest he'd caused when he'd ripped my heart out.
I'd thought he cared about me. About helping me with my baking. With that offer of help, he'd slipped right into my heart. Made me believe the business could be a success. Made me believe in myself.
Believe in him. In us.
A sob tore free from my throat and I buried my head into the pillow. Tears flowing freely then from behind my closed eyelids. I'd been so stupid. All the signs had been there and I'd ignored them. Didn't want to see the truth. Wanted to believe in Beck. That he felt the same way I did. That maybe he was falling in love with me too.
***
The following morning, I woke with a fuzzy head and scratchy eyes. The revelations of the night before hit me as I turned over to face the window.
Tony casually introducing me to Beck's wife. The look on Beck's face. His wedding ring.
Nobody in the office had ever mentioned he was married. Did Jaz know? He hadn't mentioned it when he'd told me Linda was throwing herself at Beck to get promoted.
Or did no one know? Except Tony. Did Beck only where the ring when he was out with his wife?
“Urghh.” I threw back the duvet, irritation heating my body. None of that mattered. He was married and he'd lied about it. That was all I needed to know.
It was only 6 a.m., but I wanted out of the dress I was still wearing and a shower. Then I'd ring work. No way was I going into the office. No amount of money in the bank was worth having to face Beck there.
After calling in sick to HR, I was at a loss for what to do. I wandered around the living room and into the kitchen aimlessly. The cake tins taunted me from above the fridge. I had an order for a birthday cake that I should start making. But just the idea of baking a cake, let alone decorating it, seemed too much like hard work. I sank onto one of the stools and propped my chin up on my hands. Except that reminded me of sitting in that exact spot next to Beck.
If I'd just left it alone—had not tried to find what I'd believed to be my biological father like Leo had said—I'd never have met Beck. Wouldn't be sitting there wondering why he had lied.
His wife was beautiful. My heart squeezed uncomfortably at the thought. They'd seemed to be getting along just fine when I'd seen them together at the restaurant so Beck couldn't use the whole “my wife doesn't understand me” excuse.
Three sharp raps on the door dragged my thoughts from wandering any further down that path. My heart pounded in my chest as though it was trying to break free. What if it was Beck at the door? I stood and in my panic toppled the stool over. Cursing as I picked it up because if it was Beck he'd know I was inside.
I let out a harsh laugh at myself. What was I going to do? Hide away in my house until he left me alone? Oh no. I'd done nothing wrong. What was I doing? I marched to the front door and yanked it open.
“I'm not interested in anything—” My hand waved around in the air until it finally connected with the doorjamb. Head swam as I held on tight and was overwhelmed by memories of another moment so similar to that one.
“Miss? Are you all right? Can we come in?” He didn't wait for an answer. He slid his badge back into his pocket as he brushed past me. The woman took hold of my arm, nudging me back inside so she could close the door.
Thoughts of my brother being hurt—or worse—kept my feet rooted to the spot. Memories of the two police officers on my doorstep, asking to come in, breaking the news…
Were they here with bad news about my brother? My heart pounded at the thought of him never coming home. Leo was all I had left.
“Come and sit down.”
At the touch of her hand on my back, I looked up into her sympathetic face. Then I took in her clothes. She wasn't wearing a police uniform. Neither of them was.
Confused, I let her lead me to the sofa and sank into the corner. I grabbed the cushion, wrapped my hands around it, clutched it to my chest as though it might protect me from whatever bombshell they were about to deliver. “What is it? What happened? Is my brother okay?”
They exchanged a puzzled look before the man turned to face me. “I'm Detective Bancroft and this is Detective Abbot. You've been working at Cooper Garson, or more specifically, with a Mr Tony Rutherford, is that correct?”
I stared at him, my brows furrowing, mouth open. Then I closed it and glanced over at Detective Abbot. This was about work?
“Miss Hardwick?”
I nodded as I looked back at him. “Yes…yes, I'm a temp there. I've been there just over a month. Tony asked me to stay on after my initial contract to work with him on a special account. I don't understand…”
Another look passed between them and Detective Abbot nodded. I had no clue what silent conversation they were having.
“And this special account. Can you tell us about it?”
No. Tony had told me not to discuss it with anyone. But he meant in the office, didn't he? He couldn't expect me not to speak to the authorities, could he?
I stroked the fleecy underside of the cushion. I'd tried to talk to Beck about it and that had got me nowhere. But this was different. They were asking me this time. But I didn't think answering was optional. “Erm, I can tell you what I know, which isn't a lot.”
And so I did. Detective Bancroft took notes as I spoke. As I told him about the secrecy, the unaccounted money, the bank account in the Cayman Islands. When I finished my tale, he stared at me long enough to make me uncomfortable. I squeezed the cushion tighter and tried not to squirm in my seat. That look made me feel guilty even though I'd done nothing wrong. Finally, he spoke.
“And you didn't find any of that strange? Didn't think there might be something underhanded going on?”
His questions had me dropping my feet to the floor and sitting up straight. Was he accusing me of something? Thought they could just barge into my house and…and interrogate me? “Of course I did.” His brows rose at my high-pitched retort.
“So you spoke to your supervisor about your suspicions?”
Oh crap. I was still mad as hell at Beck but I didn't want to get him into trouble. “No, um…I spoke to my boss instead. Beck. I mean Kyle. I spoke to Mr Robinson.”
Again, they exchanged a weird look and I got the feeling there was something else going on. Detective Bancroft scribbled something in his notebook before he looked up at me.
“And what did Mr Robinson say?”
I licked my dry lips and wondered how much I was going to have to tell them about Mr Robinson. “He—” I cleared my throat and started again. “He told me he would look into it. That he would deal with it.” God, I hoped he had. Hoped that I hadn't just thrown him to the wolves. But he had said he'd deal with it.
Then again, he had acted weird when I told him. I clutched the cushion tighter as a horrible thought hit me. What if Beck already knew what Tony was doing?
What if Beck was involved?