"No. I have to follow policy, and I will to the letter. The corporate investigators will nail this person and anyone who helps her is going down too." She pointed a finger at him, her face stern. "Stay out. I mean it. You won't help or protect Christine Howell by meddling."
"It's not meddling if I can prove the truth." He picked up his phone. "Let me call her and hash this out, clear it up in a matter of minutes. There's a reasonable explanation. You've made a mistake somehow." The girl he'd dated became buried in the professional she always appeared as Peg straightened. Damn, he shouldn't have said she made a mistake. She could say the sky glowed green and the corporation heads would believe her.
"On the record, you are expressly forbidden from discussing this matter with anyone, especially Ms. Christine Howell, on penalty of immediate termination. Do you understand this directive, Mr. Jergens?"
Shit. Peggy's furious ice queen tone. Damn. "Yes, I understand." Which do I want more: Christine and the promise of what we started or this promotion I worked most of my life to get? "I appreciate your time meeting with me personally. If I can assist further, please don't hesitate to contact me at any time."
"Thank you." Peg walked to the door, hesitated, and glanced over her shoulder. "I really am sorry, Charlie. Please take care of yourself."
"You too. Hello hugs to Eric and the kids."
After Peg departed, Charlie paced his office. The colors of light blue and gray, designed to help him relax, did nothing to calm him now. The huge windows maximized the beach views, but as he leaned against one to watch the waves, he felt more unsettled than the choppy surf. Jesus, what a tangle. There must be a simple solution, yet after reviewing the invoices and talking with Peg, he'd reach the exact same conclusion the corporation had if he weren't so familiar with Christine and her code of honor. So if neither he nor Christine could be the criminal, then who?
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Home and fine. Talk soon. He punched her direct dial button then paused. What should he say? 'Glad you're back, and by the way, the corporation thinks you took nine hundred thousand dollars and tried to hide it as false orders.'
He had to find the answer, corporate directive or not. He'd be damned if he'd sit by and let some bastard frame him or Christine. She didn't return to her office for a couple of days; he had time to clear their names. He took her scarf from his pocket and held it to his face. He had to protect her, couldn't let her be hurt, not after all she'd been through. He saw her in the half-light smiling as their bodies joined and she whispered his name. Everything she felt shone in her face. She was the most open person he'd ever met.
And yet he couldn't read her when she left. Guarded, something he'd never known from her. Uneasy, unable to gaze directly at him, she hid something, emotion, secrets, what? He rubbed the silk against his cheek and refused to believe the woman who shared every inch of herself with him could be capable of stealing nine dollars, let alone nine hundred thousand, and then hiding it from him. He believed in her.
But how could he solve this without talking to Christine? He'd start where the accounting department had: trace the invoices from their source. Peg may have taken the originals, but he'd scanned the dates and knew which ones to look up. Charlie stuffed her scarf back in his pocket and sank into the chair behind his desk. He'd deal with the professional then with the personal. Damn anyone who said history repeated itself.
***
Christine drove to work the next morning with serious exhaustion dragging her every movement. It was jet lag, pure and simple, adjusting back into daily routine, and had nothing to do with Charlie not returning her text, email, messenger greeting, or not being on Skype last night. What would it be like when she called him later for the week's orders? Would their conversation be the usual friendly and flirty? Or awkward? She parked and headed inside. No time to worry; her desk no doubt overflowed with work.
"Hi, Christine." The soft greeting came as she entered the building.
She smiled at the IT guy whose phone extension she knew by heart and stepped into the elevator with him. "Hi, Tom. How are you? Have a good weekend?"
Tom nodded and returned her smile with a shy one. At twenty-one, he would soon be head of the IT department, the youngest ever. "I redid a friend's system matrix so it zips along. Did you enjoy Oz?"
"I loved it. I've got loads of pictures." Christine laughed. "I'll probably have to call on you to help me fit them into emails so I can annoy all my friends."
Tom adjusted his dark glasses. "The program I recommended before you left will help make them into thumb nail size, but you'll lose clarity. I'll work on something for you, research some programs."
"Oh please don't go to any trouble." Christine felt guilty. Tom must have dozens of people calling about time sheets, email problems, and server connections. "I haven't even tried to download any. They're all on my camera memory card."