Holding the Dream Page 0,24

IRS. The check drawn out of escrow was for this amount."

"I don't understand when or how the other copy was generated," Kate began. "All work sheets are filed, of course, but any excess forms are shredded."

"Kate." Bittle drew her attention with one quiet word. "The excess money was transferred via computer out of the client's escrow account in cash."

"In cash," she repeated, blank.

"Since this came to our attention, we initiated a check on all accounts." Bittle's face was grave as he watched her. "Since late March of this year, amounts that total seventy-five thousand dollars have been withdrawn from escrow accounts, seventy-five thousand in excess of tax payments. Computer withdrawals, in cash, from your accounts."

"From my clients?" She felt the blood drain out of her face, couldn't stop it.

"It's the same pattern." Calvin Meyers spoke for the first time, tugging on his bright red tie. "Two copies of the 1040s, small adjustments on various forms, to total excess on the client's copy in amounts ranging from twelve hundred to thirty-one hundred dollars." He puffed out his cheeks. "We might not have caught it, but I golf with Sid Sun. He's a whiner about taxes and kept after me to look over his form and be certain there was nothing else he could use to cut his payment."

Embezzlement. Were they accusing her of embezzlement? Was this some awful nightmare? They knew about her father and thought... no, no, that was impossible. While her hand flexed nervously in her lap, she kept her voice even.

"You examined one of my accounts?"

Calvin lifted an eyebrow. The last thing he'd expected from steady-as-she-goes Kate Powell was blank-eyed panic. "I did so to get him off my back, and in examining his copy, I found several small errors. I thought it best to look further and pulled out our file copy of his latest return."

She couldn't feel anything. Even her fingertips had gone numb. "You think I stole seventy-five thousand dollars from my clients. From this firm."

"Kate, if you could just explain how you think this might have happened," Marty began. "We're all here to listen."

No, her father had stolen from clients. Her father. Not her. "How could you think it?" Her voice shook, shamed her.

"We haven't come to any firm conclusion," Amanda countered. "The facts, the numbers, however, are here, in black and white."

Black and white, she thought as the print blurred, as it overlapped with visions of newspaper articles from twenty years past. "No, I - " She had to lift a hand, rub her eyes to clear them. "It's not. I didn't."

Amanda tapped one scarlet nail on the tabletop. She'd expected outrage, had counted on the outrage of the innocent. Instead, what she saw was the trembling of the guilty.

"If Marty hadn't gone to bat for you, if he hadn't insisted we search for some rational explanation, even incompetence on your part, we would have had this meeting days ago."

"Amanda," Bittle said quietly, but she shook her head.

"Larry, this is embezzlement, and over and above the legal ramifications, client trust and confidence have to be considered. We need to clear this matter up quickly."

"I've never taken a penny, not a penny from any client." Though terrified that her legs would buckle, Kate shot to her feet. She would not be sick, she told herself, though her stomach was heaving into her throat. "I couldn't." It seemed to be all she could say. "I couldn't."

Lawrence frowned at his hands. "Ms. Powell, money is easily hidden, laundered, spent. You've assisted a number of clients in investments, accounts in the Caymans, in Switzerland."

Investments. Bad investments. She pressed a hand to her throbbing temple. No, that had been her father. "That's my job. I do my job."

"You recently opened a business," Calvin pointed out.

"I'm a one-third partner in a secondhand boutique." Grief and fear and nausea swirled inside her, made her hands shake. She had to be coherent, she ordered herself. Shaking and weeping only made her look guilty. "It took almost all my savings to do it."

She drew in a breath that burned, stared straight into Bittle's eyes. "Mr. Bittle - " But her voice broke, and she had to begin again. "Mr. Bittle, I've worked for you for five years. You hired me a week out of graduate school. I've never given this firm anything but my complete loyalty and dedication, and I've never given a client anything but my best. I'm not a thief."

"I find it difficult to believe you are, Kate. I've known