Authors: Sandra Orchard
Tags: #FIC022040, #FIC042060, #Counterfeiters—Fiction, #Family secrets—Fiction, #Commercial crimes—Fiction
Blind Trust
© 2014 by Sandra J. van den Bogerd
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
Ebook edition created 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâfor example, electronic, photocopy, recordingâwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-4506-9
Scripture used in this book, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, is taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.⢠Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.
www.zondervan.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
“
Blind Trust
is a fun, sometimes quirky whodunit, full of everything a mystery lover is looking for, including a dash of romance. If you enjoy mysteries as much as I do, you won't want to miss Sandra Orchard's second installment in her Port Aster Secrets series.”
â
Lisa
Harris
, Christy Award finalist and author of
Dangerous Passage
“Sandra Orchard weaves a clever web of suspense in this story of secrets, betrayal, and small-town intrigue. Seasoned with a sweet romance; a gripping, intelligent plot; and a few heart-touching surprises,
Blind Trust
will keep readers on the edge of their seatsâand impatient for book three!”
â
Susan
May Warren
, award-winning,bestselling author of
It Had to Be You
For my parents-in-love, Greta and Peter, for their supportive encouragement of my writing and their penchant for nutmeg.
D
IAMOND
H
EIRESS
E
SCAPES
M
URDER
C
HARGES
.
Kate Adams snatched a copy of the
Port
Aster Press
from the newsstand next to the grocery store checkout. How could they drop the charges when Molly Gilmore confessed?
Kate's throat squeezed at the memory of finding Daisy's cold body.
The young clerk pointed to the newspaper. Tears stung Kate's eyes as she dropped it on top of the groceries she'd picked up for her elderly neighbor. Her dear friend and mentor was dead because of Molly Gilmore. If not for the sting Kate had devised, the police would still be calling Daisy's death a suicide. As if she would have killed herself when they'd been on the verge of a breakthrough in their herbal research project.
The clerk placed the newspaper on the other side of the register. Kate shifted so she could read the article as the teen scanned the groceries.
Insufficient evidence.
How could they say that?
Kate studied Molly's photo. No hint of the crazed glint
that had flashed in her eyes when she lunged at Kate with that syringe. Kate shuddered at the thought of how close Molly had come to killing
her
too.
Now that the syringe had conveniently disappeared, she prayed the judge didn't drop the attempted murder charges against Molly on grounds of insufficient evidence too. If attacking her with a hypodermic full of poison wasn't attempted murder, Kate didn't know what was.
Except the attempted murder charge was not enough to keep her behind bars. They let the woman out on bail, even though she practically had flight risk emblazoned across her Dolce pantsuit. In the photo, her face showed no trace of concern. And why should she worry? By trial time, her five-hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyers would have the charge whittled down to jaywalking.
Kate cringed at her negativity. Only Molly wasn't the hardworking young woman struggling to make ends meet that Kate had once thought. Molly hadn't shown a speck of remorse when her fatally flawed plan to poison Daisy and pin the crime on her ex was exposed. And sadly, with how powerful Molly's family money was proving to be, Kate feared Molly wouldn't be held accountable for her crimes either.
“That's $28.37,” the clerk said, bagging the last of the groceries.
Kate handed over the three tens her neighbor had given her to pay for the items and continued reading: “A source close to Molly Gilmore claims the incident involving Kate Adams was a setup and that Gilmore was the victim of police entrapment.”
“Ma'am.”
Kate reached for the two bags of groceries, her gaze still pinned to the article.
Entrapment?
Molly was no victim.
Someone tugged the bags back.
“Whatâ?” She looked up into cool gray eyes.
“Ma'am, could you come with me please?” The voice belonged to a security guard. At least that's what was embroidered on his crisply ironed shirt with chevrons on the shoulder. Since when did the store hire a security guard?
“Me?” she squeaked, sounding as guilty as a pilfering mouse. She cleared her throat and forced backbone into her voice. “Why?”
The line of customers behind her gawked, eyes rapt with morbid fascination. She recognized a couple of faces and felt her own face heat. In a town this size, whatever was going on would be common knowledge by suppertime.
The pimple-faced cashier held one of the ten-dollar bills she'd given him under a blue light and showed it to the towering guard who still had his hands on her groceries. “See? Counterfeit! All three of them.”
A collective gasp sounded behind her.
“Good work, kid.” The security guard released the bags to accept the evidence.
Heart pounding, Kate gaped at the bills. “My neighbor gave them to me to buy her groceries.”
The guard nodded, but he didn't look like he believed her. “If you'll follow me, ma'am”âhe shot a pointed look to the oglers behind herâ“we'll sort this out in the manager's office.”
“What should I do with the groceries?” the clerk asked.
The guard steered Kate toward the office. “Have a stocker put them back.”
“No.” Kate whirled around. “I need to take those to my neighbor. She's elderly and not feeling well. She needsâ”
“Okay.” The guard waved off the cashier, curled the newspaper
into the top of one of the bags, and hoisted them off the counter. “Follow me.”
Fevered whispers rose in their wake.
The guard closed the office door behind them and set the grocery bags on the manager's desk. From the front page of the newspaper, Molly's victorious smile mocked Kate.
Suddenly, she had the sinking feeling
she
was the one being entrapped.
Her breath came in gulps. What if the manager didn't believe her? Or worse, what if he did and the police went after Verna?
Kate dug around her purse for other cash, her credit card, something. She couldn't let her sweet old neighbor take the fall for trying to pass off counterfeit bills. How had Verna even ended up with a wad of counterfeit cash?
Kate zipped closed her purse. She must've left her wallet on the bed when she'd switched purses this morning. Chewing on her bottom lip, she eyed the guard. “Are you sure the bills are counterfeit? I mean, that cashier didn't look old enough to know the difference.”
“No, ma'am. I don't know for sure.” The guard positioned himself in front of the door, his expression impassive. “That's why we're waiting for the police to sort this out.”
“The police?” She swiped slick palms down the sides of her slacks. “Is that really necessary?” She'd never liked the police. Not since her father died in police custody when she was ten. “I mean, I can pay for the groceries . . . some other way. My neighbor will be worried.”
A loud rap sounded on the door.
Kate jumped at the sound, knocking a soup can out of one of the grocery bags. As she scrambled to stop it from toppling off the desk, the guard pushed open the door.
Detective Tom Parker strode into the room looking every inch her knight in shining armor, just as he'd been when he rescued her from Molly's attack with that syringe. Kate's knees went weak with relief. Tom was the one exception to her police aversion. Although he was not quite as tall as the security guard, with his dark hair, square chin, and piercing blue eyes, Tom's powerful presence dwarfed the younger man. And his warm smile loosened the knots in her stomach.
He'd never believe her guilty of counterfeiting. After how badly he'd felt about taking her into custody for her friend's murder three months ago, he'd make sure she wasn't falsely accused again.
Hopefully the fact that he wore his usual suit and tie instead of a police uniform would also stave off rumors of her being arrested. He glanced around the room, then turned back to the security guard. “Where's your counterfeiter?”
The guard hitched his thumb in Kate's direction.
“Miss Adams?” The surprise in Tom's voice reinforced the absurdity of the accusation against her, but a second later his face broke into a grin. “If you wanted to see me, you could have just called.”
Her stomach somersaulted at his gentle teasing and at the disappointment that she hadn't called vibrating beneath his words. If only he knew how much she'd wanted to agree to that second dinner date he'd been vying for. But his warning that Molly Gilmore's lawyer might attack her character in the upcoming trial had her too worried Tom's reputation would be ruined. She knew all too well what guilt by association felt like. She could never willingly subject anyone to that kind of ridiculeâespecially someone she cared about as much as Tom.
Suddenly aware of the security guard's scrutiny, she schooled
her expression. “Thanks. Next time I'll keep that in mind.” Tom being a cop made the risk of being romantically linked ten times worse. If Molly's lawyers didn't try to shred Kate's reputation in their effort to make her look less of a victim, they'd certainly question Tom's objectivity as the investigating officer.
“You know this woman?” the security guard asked.
Tom chuckled. “Yes, she's known to the police.”
The guard nodded, his expression smug.
“Because I was the victim of an attempted murder,” Kate blurted. “Not because I'm a criminal.” She knew Tom was making light of the situation to put her at ease. But he
wasn't
helping.
The guard's jaw dropped, and a smidgen of recognition lit his eyes.
Tom cleared his throat, wiping the grin from his face. “What do you have? I'm sure we can clear this up.”
The guard handed Tom the money. “I believe you'll find these are counterfeit, sir. They failed our light test. She used them to pay for her groceries. She claims she received them from her neighbor.”
Tom swung his attention back to her, one eyebrow raised.
“You can't think that I . . . ?” At the amused twinkle in his eyes, she let out a
humph
. “What kind of moron counterfeits ten-dollar bills? If I wanted to defraud someone, I'd at least go for twenties. More likely fifties or hundreds!”
The amusement in Tom's bright blue eyes intensified, but he held his mouth in a firm line. “You're not helping your case,” he murmured.
She rolled her eyes. He knew she was joking. Then againâshe slanted a glance at the guardâmaybe this guy didn't. She cringed at the idea of him repeating what she'd just said.
Tom studied the currency in his hands. “These
are
counterfeit. Who gave them to you?”
“Verna Nagy, but she couldn't have known. Someone must have palmed them off on her.” The newspaper poking out of the grocery bag drew Kate's attention. She passed it to Tom, Molly's picture face up. “Do you think she could be behind this? You warned me that her people might try to discredit my reputationâyou know, âtry the victim'âto bolster her defense.”
Tom scanned the headline, and the tick of his jaw muscle reminded her of how he'd blamed himself for Daisy's case unraveling.
The guard shook his head. “I haven't seen her in here.”
“Could you excuse us for a moment?” Tom said to the guard.
“Of course.”
After the door closed behind the guard, Tom turned her way, his expression empathetic but not encouraging.
Kate lifted her hand stop-sign style. “I know what you're going to say. It sounds crazy. But think about it. Molly tried to get back at her ex by poisoning someone. That's how she operates.”
“Sure, but have you bought groceries for your neighbor before? Because what else would make Molly's people think you'd end up with the phony cash?”
“No, I haven't.” Kate glanced out the office window toward the cash registers. “But . . . maybe the money didn't come from my neighbor. Maybe they got to that teenage clerk. I'm sure he's new here.” She clasped Tom's arm. “I was reading the paper as I handed him the money. He could have easily replaced the bills I gave him with counterfeit ones.”
“He just
happened
to have the exact denominations in counterfeit as you handed him?”
“No, I guess he wouldn't.” Kate blew out a dejected breath.
“He wouldn't!”
Her hope resurged. “If you search him or the register, maybe you'll find more.”
Tom cast a skeptical look out the office window. “Wait here.” He returned the newspaper to the desk, then let himself out of the room as the guard stepped back in.
Tom waited until the last customer in line exited, then showed the cashier his badge.
The teen nodded and opened the cash drawer.
Tom dug through the drawer, lifting removable parts. Now and again, he held a bill under the ultraviolet light. He said something to the teen, but the teen shook his head and turned out his empty pockets. Tom jotted something in his notepad, then stalked back to the office, grim-faced.
Kate's chest tightened. She knew Tom couldn't believe she'd counterfeit, but if the evidence pointed to her, he wouldn't ignore it. No matter how he felt about her.
Or didn't
feel.
After all, a guy could only handle so much rejection, no matter how well-intentioned her reasons. He still sat beside her in church, but he hadn't tried inviting her to lunch for weeks.
“Thank you for your alertness,” Tom said to the guard. “I'll take Miss Adams into my custody.”
Custody.
She tried to swallow but couldn't choke down the disbelief balled in her throat.
“What should we do with these?” The guard motioned toward the groceries.
Tom reached for a bag. “We'll deliver them. I want to talk to this neighbor of hers.”
“They're not paid for, sir.”
Tom pulled out his wallet and handed the guard a twenty and a ten. “Will this cover it?”
“Yes, I'll get your change.”
“Thank you,” Kate whispered to Tom as the guard left the room.
“Don't thank me yet. We've had a rash of counterfeit complaints over the last few weeks. The Gilmore reach may be long, but I doubt this counterfeit operation was a setup to destroy your reputation.”
“But you believe me, don't you? You know I wouldn't knowingly pass counterfeit bills.”
“Do I?”
She knew he was teasing, but that didn't arrest the rush of memories of others who hadn't been, or stop the ache in her throat. She felt ten again, in line for lunch at her school's hot dog day and accused of trying to pay with a fake ticket. Called a crook,
just like her old man
. Chilled by the frosty doubt in even her teacher's eyes.
“Hey.” Tom brushed his thumb across her cheek, compassion in his eyes. “
I
know you wouldn't.”