she was small for that kind of work. As often as she bemoaned her petite height she was thankful for it. People tended to underestimate small women, a bias she had used to her advantage more than once.

“My ultimate role was going to be advance fieldwork.

Investigating the financial status of potential hosts. I was also doing financial investigation of hosts.” She saw no reason to tell Sterling that she’d met all the physical requirements, including marksmanship. She wasn’t going to explain about the simulators either.

9


“Their loss was our gain.”

Though she found it quite fulfilling chasing white-collar criminals—and there had been so many of them the last several years—she still felt the sting of the failure to serve and protect.

As her father routinely sneered, she was the reincarnation of her grandfather.

“And you have no intention of telling me why you left.”

It was a statement of fact, so Kip said nothing. The last thing she would do was inform the head of the company why she had been allowed to resign from the Secret Service.

Sterling’s vexed sigh was brief, but heartfelt. “There are a few other conditions you should know about before you say yes.”

“And they are?”

“You’ll have to carry this in addition to your other duties.

Woo can’t know you’re working on something else. I want quick results. If this account is missing a half million, there might be more and whoever it is could be preparing to leave the country and we won’t recover a cent. I want the funds back.”

“I’ll do my best.” She said it with all sincerity and the quick nod said she was understood—they had made a pact. At SFI they took agreements very, very seriously. “My resources and investigative reach will be limited if I can’t have authorized access to certain kinds of files, however. It will take me longer than a team.”

“I understand. Even if all you can do is ETO, it will be a good start. If a senior officer is involved our fidelity bond won’t cover the losses, so I’m anxious to know if it’s any of them.”

Eliminating the Obvious was always the first and easiest step.

Kip nodded again.

“Thank you,” Sterling said quietly. “After this meeting we shouldn’t see each other at the office. If you need to talk to me, leave a message on my private voice mail.” She pushed a business card toward her.

“Of course.” As she tucked the card in her pocket, she noted the home address and private phone numbers written in standard SFI lettering script.

“I also have a lot of materials to give you. I thought I could 10


do this on my own, but I am traveling too much to do an effective job.”“How can I get them from you?”

“I have to be on a plane out of SeaTac at ten. An appointment in New York came out of the blue, and that’s when I realized I needed help. Can you come by my home around eight thirty?

I’m on the Hill.”

“Eight thirty will work.” So much for a leisurely birthday dinner with Jen, Luke and their pals. She could hear the conversation already over birthday cake. Her friends were all starting to sound like her ex.

“Good.” Sterling’s tone indicated their meeting was over. Kip took the bank statements she’d been given and stood up.

Tamara Sterling rose as well, and came around her desk to shake hands. Her touch was cool. “I think I’ve made the right decision.”

It was Kip’s turn to twitch her lips. “It’s an SFI motto—hire the best.”

“You’re not the most modest of people,” she said, but for the first time the smile seemed genuine.

Kip arched her eyebrows. “People tend to praise modesty, then overlook you.”

She turned to go and could feel the gaze on her back as she walked to the office door. When she got there she turned to salute smartly and made what she hoped was a dignified exit.

Sterling’s assistant was still not at her desk, and Kip wondered if the formidable Mercedes Houston was elsewhere so Kip wouldn’t be seen coming and going. Probably. A successful investigation was conducted in the utmost secrecy, not that anyone would get anything out of Mercedes Houston. People had tried. They had always failed. Mercedes’ considerable wit was company legend.

Her boss had IT’S A LAW OF PHYSICS—YOUR FOOT

WILL ALWAYS FIT IN YOUR MOUTH tacked to his office wall.The office door opened just as she reached it. She stepped back to let in the lanky, sandy-haired man. She recognized him 11


immediately and turned the bank reconciliations so the faces were hidden against her chest.

“The old girl in?” He smiled at her with boyish charm. Ted Langhorn was Director of Client Relations and Tamara Sterling’s longtime friend. And a suspect until she cleared him. “Where’s Mercedes? Are you temping for her?”

Kip was mildly irritated by the question, and peeved by Langhorn’s disrespectful use of “old girl” to describe the CEO.

He might say it to Sterling’s face, but Kip was a subordinate. He’d always struck her as a glib deal-broker. Essential, but incapable of doing the work he was selling to clients.

“Ms. Sterling is in. I was just dropping off something. And picking up.” She indicated the stack of papers she was clutching against her stomach.

“Oh, sorry. Don’t I know you? You did that Big Blue investigation last year didn’t you? Barrett, right? Great work.

Clients mention it all the time.”

Kip nodded, sorry she hadn’t been out of Sterling’s office thirty seconds earlier. Besides, she thought she’d been over-praised for that case. Fourteen million dollars was a lot of money, to be sure. But it had been stolen by a clumsy cocaine addict who had drawn a lot of attention to himself with conspicuous spending. He’d even ordered tickets to Brazil in his own name with his company credit card. Kip had seen the transaction on their tap of his credit card records just a few moments after he’d made it. The companion programmer working with her had laughed out loud. Stupid criminals made life easy.

It had felt good, arriving at the idiot’s office with two agents.

They’d done the arresting, and she’d pointed out the evidence they would need to take, including the laptop. That afternoon she’d helped the Fed’s forensic accountant hack into the guy’s system, though “hacking” didn’t really apply when she’d suggested they try his middle name for his password and had been right.

Local law enforcement had been delighted to receive the names and phone numbers of several cocaine suppliers. Yes, that had felt good, even the tedious preparation for her own testimony. It had 12


been too long since she’d had a moment quite so fulfilling.

Tamara Sterling’s office door opened abruptly. “Thought I heard voices. Come on in, Ted.” Looking at Kip, she added,

“Glad I was able to catch you. There’s one more folder for Woo.”

She looked annoyed that Kip had forgotten something.

Turning back to Ted, she said, “How’d you make out in New York? Oh, and the Seahawks lost a squeaker while you were gone.”

She waved vaguely at Kip as though she’d already forgotten her existence. Kip made a speedy exit.

“Don’t tell me about the Seahawks,” Ted was saying as the door closed. “They were supposed to beat the spread...”

In the elevator she looked into the folder she’d been given.

A dozen blank sheets of paper. That meant Sterling had waited to find out if Kip was going to be seen leaving. Since Sterling had misled Ted Langhorn about Kip’s reason for being there, it meant that she hadn’t dismissed Ted as a suspect.

She sat at her desk in a daze, overwhelmed. Her cubicle neighbors were tapping out another homage to the Kit Kat bar.

She had to get away this weekend. Everyone, even her, had their limits. She’d been working weekends for so long she wasn’t sure what day of the week it was unless she checked her cell phone.

She hunkered down over her work for another hour, carefully double-checking everything because she was so tired. The papers Sterling had given her were tucked into her satchel, out of sight, but to her they were glowing like neon. When the clock told her she had to leave right then or completely miss Jen’s birthday party she packed up her running shoes, coffee travel mug, paperback she’d been trying to finish for two months and a half of a banana that was probably going to be her dinner.

Cafe C’est Bon had been chosen by the birthday girl for the crepes, and by the time Kip pulled into the parking lot she was sure that dessert was already flambéed and served. She could linger for thirty minutes. The only break she was catching was 13


that C’est Bon was most of the way to the Queen Anne Hill address Sterling had given her.

On the walk from the parking lot she spied Jen at a table for seven. The chair to Jen’s left was conspicuously empty. Jen had cut her long, blond hair—it only brushed her shoulders now. Her boyfriend, Luke, was in his usual black tie on a black shirt, but instead of the customary glower that Kip was used to seeing he was laughing at something Jen had just said.

She threaded her way through the crowded cafe and slid into the empty chair after dropping a kiss onto Jen’s forehead. If she had a best friend, Jen was it. “Sorry—work, as usual.”

“It’s always work with you,” Jen muttered. Her schoolteacher you-flunked face was in full evidence.

“It’s a living,” Kip answered, hoping to change the subject.

It was also a calling, something that nobody ever seemed to understand. Certainly not Meena, whose parting words had been,

“I moved out two weeks ago and you just noticed.”