Jingle of Coins (12 page)

“Let’s hope not. We have enough to worry about without people passing fake money.”

Emily breathed a sigh of relief as she rode the elevator back to the first floor. The shop was empty, and Sara immediately bombarded her with questions. “You’re lucky you got off so easily,” she commented in a low voice. “I got my butt chewed out royally.”

“I’m sorry I got you into this,” Emily apologized.

“It’s my own fault; don’t worry about it. Clarise came by a few minutes ago and said she’ll be tied up all day. She’ll get with you tomorrow. I’m supposed to escort you to orientation.” Sara glanced down at her watch. “You still have enough time to grab a sandwich.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me; I’m used to eating late. Do you know where the food court is?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you in a little while. Thanks.” As Emily walked toward the buffet area, she reviewed the day’s events. Things were not going well. First she’d overslept, then taken the fake money, and now she had to talk to a Secret Service agent. For somebody who didn’t want to make waves, she certainly wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping a low profile. She realized that she was going to have to do a better job of staying under everyone’s radar so they didn’t find out about her talent. In her case, familiarity not only bred contempt—it also meant possible capture and a long prison sentence.

She thought about her upcoming discussion with the Secret Service agent and decided to tell him everything she knew about the counterfeiter. All she had to do was answer his questions truthfully, and she was home free.

Chapter Twelve

At one o’clock, Emily joined thirteen other new employees in the Human Resources Conference room. She signed dozens of forms and then spent the next three hours watching films on safety, sexual harassment, and gaming regulations. As the crowd scattered for a much-needed break, a man carrying a briefcase entered the room and paused at the table in front of the podium.

She studied him out of the corner of her eye and wondered if he was the Secret Service agent Keener said she’d have to talk to. If so, he hadn’t been in Vegas for long. Anybody who stayed in Vegas for more than a week quickly acquired a tan. This guy was so pale, he looked like he spent most of his time indoors.

After he placed a stack of handouts on the edge of every table, he walked over and glanced at her nametag. “Hello. I’m Agent Dozer from the Secret Service. You must be Emily Sane,” he began.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied with a wry smile.

He patted her arm. “Don’t feel too bad about accepting bogus money. Even the pros have trouble sometimes spotting the fake stuff.”

She hung her head. “I was so embarrassed when they escorted me to security,” she confided in a low whisper. “I’m lucky I didn’t get fired.”

The rest of the group filtered back into the room. “We’ll talk later,” he promised as he returned to the podium. He tapped the microphone a few times to get everyone’s attention, and began his lecture.

Dozer droned on for an hour about how to check for counterfeit bills, then compounded everyone’s boredom by moving on to other security precautions. Emily was relieved when he finished, and once the session was over, moved to leave the room, but he signaled for her to stay.

She watched him repack his briefcase. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Let’s go to my office,” he replied, walking past her.

She was surprised when he escorted her into a small, windowless room that looked more like a storage closet than an office. A metal desk and chair occupied one wall, and dark brown carpet lent an air of gloom to the already dreadful space. She shook her head as she sat in the single visitor chair. “What did you do, tick Keener off, and get assigned to the dungeon as penance for your sins?”

He glanced up. “Let’s just say we don’t see eye to eye. I think he resented my asking him questions about the three agents who disappeared.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Two FBI agents and a counterfeit specialist from the Secret Service were brought in to find out who’s behind the counterfeit ring that’s operating in Vegas. Right after they started talking to some of the Emerald Lagoon security guys, they disappeared. I’ve been assigned to find out what happened to them. That’s why I’m so interested in your description of the man in the shop.”

“I see. What can I do to help?”

He took out a small notebook. “Just answer my questions and try to remember as much detail as you can.”

Ninety minutes later Emily returned to her car. She glanced down at her watch and realized that it was six forty-five. Glen was supposed to pick her up for dinner fifteen minutes ago! She backed the Jeep out of the parking lot and rushed home. Hurrying to her apartment, she spotted an envelope with her name on it stuck to her door. She tore it open and removed the note inside. Glen was sorry he missed her and could be reached at his apartment. A nearly illegible number was scrawled under his name.

Damn it, he could’ve at least had the decency to be late picking her up! She wondered how ticked off he’d be about being stood up, then decided to risk calling him to apologize. Her heart pounded and her hand shook as she dialed his number. When he answered, she panicked and struggled to find her voice. “Sorry. Today was my first day at work, and I got stuck in a meeting.”

A lengthy silence stretched between them. “That’s okay,” he replied. “I figured you got held up. That’s why I left my number. It’s not too late; we can still go out.”

“Can you give me twenty minutes to change?”

“Sure.”

Emily raced to the bedroom, grateful that she’d been given a short reprieve. She pulled her favorite black cocktail dress off its hanger and tried to think of something positive to say about her first day at work. It was bound to come up. She’d already given her word not to discuss the day’s events, and Agent Dozer probably wouldn’t be very understanding if she broke her promise just to keep a date happy.

Oh well, she thought, what was a little white lie between friends? Surely Glen would understand a little fabrication. Hell, he’d probably told a few white lies himself.

After Emily’s car disappeared into traffic, Dozer hurried back to his office so he could place his weekly conference call to his boss. As he walked down the narrow hallway, he heard the phone ringing. He quickened his steps and managed to grab the receiver on the fifth ring. “Dozer.”

“It’s Patrick. You okay? You sound out of breath,” his boss commented.

“You caught me coming down the hall. What’s up?”

“I’ve been stuck in Washington in meetings with the Director of the Secret Service and the new Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security, Matt Beaumont, for the past three days. My boss sent me because he’s in the hospital with a broken hip. Evidently Homeland Security’s got a big push on for inter-agency cooperation, and they’re working on setting up a series of meetings between all the strategic divisions that fall under their umbrella.”

Dozer chuckled. “Sounds like you’ve had your hands full. Better you than me. Maybe you ought to hit him up for some additional manpower and a couple days use of that crack helicopter search team we’ve been trying to bring in.”

“I tried, but Beaumont cut me off when I suggested it,” Patrick Fulcrom replied. “He’s supposed to be coming to Reno in a couple of weeks for an inter-divisional kickoff meeting. If you don’t have any new developments by then, I’ll talk to him about the helo. What’s going on with you?”

“We’ve had a break in the counterfeit case. One of the hotel employees got a good look at the man passing the phony money and was able to give enough details for our sketch artist to make a drawing. I’ll fax over a copy of the drawing with my report. This guy’s probably a little fish, but at least it’s something.”

“Good. What about the missing agents?”

“Working on it. I’ve managed to enlist somebody on the inside of Mike’s organization. We’re moving forward, but there’s nothing concrete.”

“Lean on your insider if you have to. You’ve got to come up something. You been working on this for months, and you don’t have squat. My boss’s been breathing down my neck because we haven’t found them yet.”

Dozer sighed. “I know, boss. Believe me, I’m working on it.”

“All right. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

After Dozer hung up the phone, he leaned back in his chair and reached for his copy of Emily’s personnel file. He studied her background information for a few minutes, then phoned one of his men.

“Nick? It’s Dozer. Got a special assignment for you. Get with your contacts in the records division and have them run an in-depth check on a woman named Emily Sane. See if you can dig up anything.”

“Sure thing, boss” Nick Pernger replied. “You gonna be in your office?”

“I’ll be here until eight o’clock,” Dozer replied. “Keep your inquiry low key, and call my cell phone when you’re done. I’ll swing by and pick up the info.”

“Okay. I’ll get right on it.”

“Thanks.” Dozer gave him the particulars from Emily’s file, then disconnected the call. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at Emily’s identification photo for a moment, wondering if she had any connection to the counterfeit ring or if she was simply an innocent bystander caught off guard. He decided it didn’t really matter, because once Nick finished his investigation, he’d know everything there was to know about Miss Emily Sane, including any dirty little secrets she might be trying to hide.

Chapter Thirteen

When Glen rang the doorbell, Emily coaxed her lips into her best apologetic smile. “Hi. Sorry I’m so late.”

He stepped inside. “No problem. I understand about getting caught up at work. It happens to me all the time.”

She tried to keep the drool she felt pooling in her mouth from dripping down her chin. God, he looked good enough to eat, dressed in that charcoal gray suit. Talk about eye candy! Yeow! And—he was nice, to boot, giving her the benefit of a doubt about being late. She tried to direct her attention away from his mouth and back to the conversation. Pay attention. You don’t want him to think you’re an idiot, do you? Focus, girl, focus. She blinked a few times and tried to make sense of his words.

“They have a great restaurant. Is that okay?”

Since she didn’t have the slightest clue what he was talking about, she nodded and smiled.

As they approached the parking lot, a sleek white limousine slid to a halt in front of them. “Don’t tell me you rented a limo,” Emily blurted out, eyeing the vehicle.

“Wasn’t me,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I wonder who it’s for.”

“It’s mine,” said a laughing voice.

They spun around to find Kate walking up behind them. “Nice wheels,” Glen remarked, trying to keep his eyes focused on Kate’s face.

Kate laughed again, but this time her laughter was more sarcastic. “Paybacks are such fun.”

Emily snickered. “Let me guess—the ambassador thing!”

Kate’s eyes twinkled and she flashed Emily a wicked grin. “Yep. Not only is this limo mine for the next two nights, I even have a new designer outfit.”

“You did good.” Emily eyed the woman’s aqua blue dress, which clung to Kate’s hourglass figure like a second skin. A spider-web lace overlay covered the top half, gradually fading away as the silky material flowed toward Kate’s feet. “You have exquisite taste, Kate. Remind me to come see you when I want to get even with somebody,” Emily teased.

“What’s the joke?” Glen asked, puzzled.

Kate and Emily laughed in unison and shook their heads. His frown deepened, and Kate reached out to pat his arm. “Sorry, Glen, private joke. You wouldn’t understand if I told you,” she teased as she glided toward the waiting limo.

The driver remained behind the wheel. “Looks like my driver needs a few lessons in limo etiquette.” Kate turned to stare at the two of them. “How about a lift? I’m going to the Devil’s Lair, but the driver can drop you off.”

“No, thanks,” Glen answered quickly. “See ya.” He escorted Emily to his Tahoe, then slid behind the wheel. “Care to explain the joke?” he asked in a tone devoid of humor.

Emily shook her head and smiled. “It was one of those ‘you had to be there to enjoy it’ things. We weren’t laughing at you, honest.”

He remained silent, and she turned to stare out the window, realizing that the ambiance between them had somehow taken a downward turn. Typical, she thought, shaking her head. Let two women share a private joke, and every male in sight thinks they’re laughing at him. What is it with men, anyway?

The glass panel between the driver and the rear of the limo slid down a few moments after Glen and Emily walked away. “That was a close call,” the driver said.

Kate filled her glass with champagne and placed the bottle of Dom Perignon back into the ice bucket. “What on earth are you talking about?” she asked, leaning back into the overstuffed leather seat.

“The woman. It was Emily Sane, right? She knows me.”

Kate glared at the back of his head. “So? What the hell did you think you were doing? The least you could have done was hold the door for me.”

“Sorry, Ms. Avrill, but I couldn’t chance being recognized.”

Suddenly suspicious, Kate narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, staring at his reflection in the rear view mirror. “How do you know Emily? She’s not a Fed, is she?”

“No. I met her through the Emerald Lagoon’s Employee Orientation. Part of my cover is that I give lectures on how to spot counterfeit money.”

“Oh yeah, right.” She eased back into the seat. “Since Emily knows you work for the Secret Service, won’t that put a kink in your posing as my limo driver?”

“Not if she doesn’t spot me. I’ll think of a good cover story in case she sees me.” He tilted the mirror so that he could watch her. “How well do you know her?”