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“For what?” the deep male voice demanded.

“What do you mean, for what? I want to…I need to get some dirt…some information on someone,” Lin said.

“We dig dirt. Pardon the pun,” the deep voice replied.

Lin smiled. A sense of humor was good. “I’ve never done this before. I’m not sure of the proper protocol.”

“I can tell.”

“Really?” Lin asked.

“Sure. After all, I am an investigator.”

“Of course. Do you ask the questions, or do I just…I don’t know….” Lin hesitated. “Do I tell you what I want you to do?”

“That’s usually the way it works. But if it’ll make it easier, I can ask a few questions.”

“Yes. I think that would work. Go for it.” Lin took the cordless phone into the kitchen, where she put on a pot of coffee. This could take a while.

“Are you in New York State?” the deep voice questioned.

“Do I need to be?”

“Look, lady, if you keep answering my questions with a question, we’ll be here all day, and frankly, I don’t have all day. If Mabel Dee hadn’t called in sick, you wouldn’t be speaking to me now. By the way, I’m Jason Vinery.”

“Then you’re the one I need to talk to. You see, I am looking to…investigate a businessman located in your building. And I live in Georgia.”

“I thought I detected a Georgia twang. So who’s the unlucky bastard?”

“Nicholas Pemberton.” There, she’d said it.

A cackle of laughter came from Jason Vinery. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, of course I am, unless there’s a conflict of interest. On your Web site I saw the kind of work you do, and it occurred to me that maybe you had done work for Pemberton Transport. Is that going to be a problem? Should I go somewhere else?”

“Look, if I didn’t need the money, this’d be pro bono. The spying business slows down when the economy is bad.”

“Does that mean you’ll take the job?” Lin asked.

“Absolutely.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “Thank you.”

“So, Georgia lady, what do you want to know?”

Lin wondered for a moment if she should give him a phony name, but then realized if he was half as good an investigator as it said on his Web site, he’d find her out in a heartbeat. “I’m Lin Townsend.”

“Okay, Lin Townsend, now that we’ve got that critical information out of the way, what would you like in the way of
dirt?
”

Lin took a deep breath. Something told her she could tell this man exactly what she wanted, and he’d comply. From what he had said, it sounded like he was not at all fond of Nicholas. She wondered what that was all about. “Before I tell you, is there some kind of confidentiality agreement you have? Something to assure me that you won’t go running to the cops when I tell you what kind of ‘dirt’ I’m after?”

“You’ll have to trust me, Lin. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. In this business, that’s not always a bad thing. To answer your question, you have my word that our conversation stays between the two of us. Now, if my lines are bugged, which I doubt because Mabel Dee does a sweep daily, or if you’re recording this, then I can’t guarantee squat.”

“I’m not recording anything, nor is my phone bugged, at least not as far as I know,” Lin said.

“Then you trust me?” Jason queried.

Lin didn’t have a choice. Besides, she’d felt that kick in her gut that she swore by. It had gotten her through some major decisions in her life. There was no reason to stop relying on it. “Yes, I believe I do.”

“Then let’s hear it.”

Okay, here goes.
“I want to tie up his…credit, his bank ac counts, his stock accounts…make it impossible for him to access his money. Make him sweat. I want to make him squirm. Be clear about this. I do not—repeat,
do not
—want to steal any of it. Just tie his hands so he can’t get to any of it. I want the bastard to pay for his s—” She’d almost made a fatal mistake. Whatever she told Jason, she could not reveal that she had a son by Nick. That could ruin everything.

“So you want me to steal his identity? You do realize that he’s a very prominent businessman? Not just in Manhattan, but around the world.”

“I don’t want his identity. I just want him to suffer. Wonder where his next meal is coming from. I want him to know what it’s like to have to put cardboard in his shoes to keep his feet warm, those kinds of things.”

“Hmm. This is serious stuff you’re talking about.”

“If you don’t want to take the job, I understand,” Lin said, even though she didn’t.

“Slow down. I didn’t say I didn’t want the job. I just want you to know if we’re caught, we’ll both be in a heap of trouble. Stealing one’s identity is too easy to trace. If I were looking to ruin a man of Nicholas Pemberton’s stature, I’d go for something else besides his pockets or the state of his shoes. I would suggest this….”

For the next thirty minutes, Jason Vinery mapped out his plan for Nick’s fall from grace. Lin loved the detective’s plan and couldn’t wait to get started, but it was going to take some maneuvering on her part. She prayed she’d be able to convince Sally to take part in what was to come.

She’d start immediately. Hurrying before Sally could question her, she whipped up a batter for the blueberry pancakes Sally loved. Thank goodness she had all the ingredients. She found a pound of bacon in the freezer. She pried the slices apart with a fork and tossed them into her favorite iron skillet. She made a fresh pot of coffee since she’d drained the last one while she was on the phone with Jason.

Sally still wore her Tinker Bell nightshirt when she meandered into the kitchen. The look on her face almost made Lin burst out laughing.

Lin turned around to the stove so she could flip the bacon. “Why don’t you go take a hot shower? By the time you’re finished, break fast will be ready. I’m making your favorite blueberry pancakes.” Lin stalled by stirring the batter. When Sally didn’t say anything, she turned around. “What?” Lin asked in an innocent voice.

“You
never
make breakfast, Lin. What gives?”

“Can’t a girl do something nice for her best friend?” Lin stated.

“Go on, get in the shower.”

Sally eyed her suspiciously but did as she was told. Ten minutes later she was back in the kitchen in the same nightshirt, but her hair was dripping wet.

“You can use my hair dryer,” said Lin.

“I don’t want to dry my hair. I want coffee. And those pancakes.”

Sally sat down on one of the oak bar stools placed around the is land in the center of the kitchen.

“Coming right up.” Lin placed a bright red mug filled with steaming coffee in front of Sally and a plate piled high with pan cakes. The microwave beeped. “I heated the syrup, too. That Vermont stuff you like so much.” She took the mini-pitcher of syrup from the microwave and poured it over Sally’s pancakes.

“I’m going to drink this coffee, eat these pancakes. Then I am going to get up, go to my car, where I will proceed to drive the three blocks to my house.” Sally took a bite of her pancakes. A sip of coffee.

“What are you trying to say? You don’t like my gesture of friend ship?” It was all Lin could do to keep a straight face.

“I’ve known you too long. I know when you’ve got something up your sleeve.” Sally forked another bite of her pancakes.

Taking a deep breath, Lin burst out laughing as she held her hands up in defeat. “You’re right. You know me too well. Actually, I’ve come up with a plan. Well, I didn’t personally come up with the plan. It was Jason Vinery’s idea. He’s the JV of JV Investigations. I spoke to him while you were sleeping.”

With a slight smile on her face, Sally asked, “So what is this big plan that has you hopping around the kitchen like Martha Stewart on crack?”

“Promise to hear me out rather than rushing to judgment?” Lin requested.

“Just spit it out. You know I don’t make rash decisions.”

While Sally took the last bite of her pancakes, Lin retrieved the coffeepot from its burner and refilled their cups. Lin explained Vinery’s plan and what would be required of her. She described Sally’s role and waited for her to respond.

Amazed, Sally asked, “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Lin said flatly.

“If,
and it’s a big
if,
I decide to take part in this insane idea, what about the diner? Someone has to be here to run the place.”

“Actually, I’ve already thought that out. You know how Irma says Jack’s being underfoot all the time is driving her to drink? I thought it would be perfect if we asked him to act as temporary manager for a few weeks. The remodeling is basically finished. All the dishes and flatware are in the stockroom. Everything that I’ve ordered has been delivered on time. That shocked the crap out of me, too. I know there are some cracks here and there, but we can fill them in as we go. So, am I crazy or what?”

“One hundred percent certifiable.” Sally closed her eyes for a minute, then opened them, looking Lin squarely in the face. “If we screw this up, we’re all going to be in a very large heap of…of you know what. Maybe even jail,” she said ominously.

“Yes, those were Jason’s exact words. That’s why I want to make sure you’re up for the challenge.”

“There is Lizzie to think of. But then again, she’s an adult. If I went to prison for a year or two, she’d be okay. I’m sure she’d never speak to me again, but I’ve said that so many times, I’ve lost count. So, I guess you can count me in. You’ll have to make arrangements for Clovis,” she added with a smile.

“Done. Irma loves cats. She’ll take good care of him.”

“You’re sure? Of everything?” Sally inquired.

“As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road, Lin.”

Monday, October 1, 2007
New York City

I
t was Nick’s first day back at the office since he’d been diagnosed with leukemia. He’d lost fifteen pounds since beginning the treatment. His hair was thinning by the minute. For the moment, his energy level had rebounded some, and before he had to undergo another round of treatments, he had Herbert drive him to the office, explaining that he had to check on the staff. Not that he owed Herbert any explanation. He never gave explanations. Another one of his new quirks. He wasn’t sure if he liked the change or not.

Herbert must have alerted Rosa that he was coming, because as usual she had several newspapers spread out on the large coffee table and a pot of coffee waiting. The thought of drinking coffee made Nick gag. Even his taste buds were rebelling.

“Good morning, sir,” Rosa called from outside his office door. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Nick thought she sounded like one of the phony nurses at the hospital. “Yes. I’d like a pot of chamomile tea with honey and lemon. This coffee is disgusting.”

“But, sir, you always drink cof—”

“I don’t drink coffee anymore. Now get the goddamned tea, like I asked.” Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him? One minute he was being considerate of old Herbert, and the next minute he was chewing out Rosa. He winced as he realized he was starting to sound more and more like his father every day. The bastard.

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Rosa bolted out of the doorway as though she’d seen a ghost. The way her boss looked just then, maybe she had. None of the staff had been told the nature of his illness, only that he was sick and was expected to make a full recovery.

Nick bit down on his lower lip as he tried not to think about the looks on the faces of his staff as he walked down the long hall to his office. They’d been shocked to see him. That was a given. More than likely they were shocked at how terrible he looked. As one, they’d looked away or just given him an airy wave. What was that old saying? If you don’t acknowledge something, you can pretend you didn’t see or hear it.

Not bothering with the newspapers laid out on the table, Nick immediately went to his desk, where he booted up his laptop. Ever since he’d cut off Chelsea’s lines of credit, he’d received several notices from his bank, a bank he’d borrowed millions from in the past—a bank that was now putting a temporary freeze on his line of credit and his personal accounts. What was up with that?
When the cat’s away, the mouse will play, or something like that.
Where the hell did that thought come from? Surely his wife wasn’t smart enough to…What? He had to admit, he didn’t know.

Not wanting to alert Chelsea that he knew what she was up to, he’d been acting as though nothing were awry. He didn’t want to call the bank from home or send them an e-mail, fearing she would find out he was onto her. No, he was going to play it nice and slow. Too bad he had the damn treatments to contend with. He was the first to admit he wasn’t firing on all cylinders.

He pulled up his accounts from the Bank of Manhattan, punching in a series of security codes. Nothing came up. He tried a second time. Still nothing.

“Rosa!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Get in here right
now!
”

The dumpy little woman came flying around the corner with a tray in her hands. “Sir, I’m working as fast as I can. Here is your tea. We didn’t have any lemon, and I had to send out for some.”

“Has Chelsea been in my office? I swear, if you lie to me, I’ll fire you on the spot.” Nick stood up, even though he felt wobbly and unsteady. He wasn’t about to allow his authority to be undermined by a damned illness. No way.

“Sir, you told me she wasn’t allowed in your office. I have respected that order. Mrs. Pemberton was here, but I followed your orders. In fact, sir, I kept the key to your office in my purse. She did
not
enter your office. Sir.”

Nicholas looked into the frightened woman’s eyes and decided she was telling the truth. Rosa was almost a saint, but he knew how persuasive Chelsea could be when money was at stake. “You’re positive?”

“Absolutely, sir,” she said. Hesitantly, she placed the pot of tea on the coffee table, where the newspapers were scattered about.

“Has anyone else been inside my office?” Nick demanded. “Anyone at all?”

“Again, sir, I did just as you instructed. I didn’t even let the cleaning crew in to clean. I’m sorry about the dust.”

Nick nodded. “It’s all right, Rosa. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nick closed his eyes. He needed to get a grip on things. He’d just made his secretary cry and practically accused her of conspiring with his wife to do him in. Yes, sir, he was definitely in line for the Boss of the Year Award.

Suddenly weak, he sat down. He’d done just what Dr. Reeves had told him not to do. He’d felt fine that morning, but at the moment he wasn’t even sure if he had the energy to summon Herbert. Nick allowed himself a moment to relax. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he carefully typed his pass codes into the computer. Again, he was denied access to his accounts. He chewed on his lower lip as he contemplated his next move. He gave his head a slight shake and dialed the number of Andrew Miller, his personal investment banker and the chief financial adviser for Pemberton Transport.

The investment banker picked up on the first ring. “Miller,” the voice said curtly.

“I’m being denied access to my personal accounts. What’s going on, Andrew?”

“Nicholas! Good to hear from you. You must be feeling better. I heard you were a bit under the weather. Yes, I’m aware of the problem, and I sent you a couple of letters advising you of the fact. Possibly your mail piled up, or you just didn’t get to it. It appears that someone other than you has managed to change your security codes. We put a freeze on all your accounts until our fraud team can trace that person to the originating source.”

“How long is that going to take?” Nick asked in a shaky voice. God, even his voice sounded like the rest of him, broken down and brittle.

“I can’t give you a specific answer. Sometimes it takes only a day. Other times it could take weeks, possibly as long as a month. It all depends on how smart the person changing the codes is.”

“That’s it? I can’t get into my own accounts, and you can’t even tell me how long it’s going to take? No, no, I don’t do business that way. Either find the culprit, or your ass is grass by the end of the day. I’ll move every single account I have once I gain access. Are we clear on this, Andrew?”

“Nick, this isn’t something I have a lot of control over. Do you need cash? I’d be happy to front you a few thousand,” Andrew offered.

Nick clenched his teeth. Dr. Reeves’s words rang in his ears. He tried to calm down. “I don’t need cash, Miller. I want results. I’ll call you first thing in the morning.” His hand was shaking so badly, he had trouble fitting the phone back into its cradle.

Nick sank back into his leather chair. All of his earlier strength was gone. It had to be Chelsea. She’d thrown the hissy fit of a five-year-old when she found out her line of credit had been cut off. It had given him great pleasure watching her as she’d literally flung herself on the floor, then crawled to him as though he were a king. She’d begged and pleaded, but he hadn’t relented. She’d hardly spoken a word to him since.

Nick didn’t think Chelsea was smart enough to go after him financially, but apparently he’d underestimated her. Yes, she was cunning, sneaky, and manipulative, but when it came to anything remotely technical, the woman was dumber than a doornail. Or pretended to be. Maybe she knew some hackers who had been only too glad to offer up their services for…whatever Chelsea was prepared to pay.

She’d screwed with the wrong person. Or she was screwing the person who was screwing him. Now
that
made sense. Chelsea was a very attractive woman, he’d give her that. It was one of the reasons he’d been conned into thinking that he slept with her in the first place. It was also the biggest regret of his life. His engagement to Cathryn had been severed immediately because of that little indiscretion. Of course, Chelsea had told his father she was expecting Nick’s child. Controlling as ever, his father hadn’t wasted a second when it came time to plan their wedding.

They’d had their photographs taken, their engagement announced in the
New York Times
. Somehow his father had managed to get them in
Town & Country
just two weeks before the June issue hit the stands. He recalled his wedding day in vivid detail. He remembered throwing up before heading to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. That they’d actually married in a church had seemed a mockery to Nick at the time. How his father had managed to secure the famous cathedral in the city on such short notice, he hadn’t a clue. Later he learned that Pemberton Transport had financed a major remodeling project for the church. Money talked then, and it had best speak up now, he thought as he tried to log on to his accounts once more before summoning Herbert to drive him home.

Access denied.

Chelsea would rue the day she messed with him. When he got through with her, she’d be lucky to be alive.

On the first Wednesday in October, Lin and Sally were discussing the apartment in SoHo that Jason Vinery had found for them.

“I can’t believe I’m paying five thousand dollars a month for this dump. It hardly seems worth it,” said Lin. The small apartment was about the size of Lin’s living room back in Dalton.

“Jason was lucky to find this, remember?”

“So he says. It just seems so…wasteful spending that amount of money for such a hole-in-the-wall. Think of what I could do with all that money. I could have all the chairs in the diner reupholstered in leather. Rich, warm buttery leather.”

“This was your idea, Lin. Live with it,” Sally said.

“I’m sorry. When Jason said we’d need to rent an apartment for a couple of months, I certainly envisioned something larger. At least two bedrooms.”

“Stop whining. At least he found us a set of single beds. I haven’t slept in a single bed since I was a kid. It’ll be fun. It won’t be forever, Lin. You’ve got to stay focused. This is one of the sacrifices we agreed to.”

Lin wandered around the three small rooms. A living room the size of her walk-in closet, a bathroom with a tub half the size of hers at home, and a bedroom barely able to hold the two beds. It was a joke. They couldn’t walk in the bedroom at the same time without bumping into one another. The kitchen was nothing more than a sink with a minifridge. There was no stove—only a microwave, which sat on a counter not more than three feet long.

“I’m glad we aren’t planning on cooking,” Lin remarked as she wandered across the room to the kitchen. “Much,” she added with a trace of her old humor.

Part one of their plan was already in motion. Jason’s “source” had said Nicholas was furious when he learned he couldn’t access his personal bank accounts. Even though she knew it was only temporary, it brought a smile to Lin’s face.

Let the games begin.

They’d been in New York for two days when Jason told them it was time for a little bit of fun, and he could use their help. It was risky, but when he explained his idea to them, both Lin and Sally were excited.

“Do you think this will backfire?” Lin asked Sally, as they both plopped down on the cream-colored sofa, the only decent piece of furniture in the apartment. They’d just finished unpacking, if you could even call it unpacking. They’d left their luggage open on top of the beds. At night they would simply slide it beneath their beds. Their toothbrushes and toiletries were stacked precariously on top of the toilet tank.

“Not if we’re careful and do exactly as Jason says. He said the first thing we have to do is get the clothes. He said there’s a thrift shop on Mulberry Street. You want to walk or hail a cab?” Sally asked.

“Let’s walk. I need the fresh air after being cooped up like a chicken.”

Sally stood up and stretched. “Then let’s go. We don’t have that much time. Remember, it gets dark here early. We’ll have to rush to get back to the apartment for our makeovers.”

“I can hardly wait,” Lin agreed.

Together they walked down the streets of SoHo, marveling at all the shops, the restaurants, and the variety of people. It was like a kaleidoscope of life. Both women tried their best not to look like tourists. It was all about blending in, according to Vinery.

“I’m so glad we’re here together. Too bad we can’t call Will and have him meet us for dinner while we’re here,” Sally said.

“Jason doesn’t know I have a son, and I want to keep it that way. At least for now. I don’t want to give him any reason to investigate me personally, but I’m thinking the guy is going to do it, anyway. If I was him, that would be the first thing I’d do. As far as Will knows, we’re both in Dalton, busting our buns, getting ready for the holiday parties. I just wish I didn’t feel so guilty about lying to my own son.”

Sally reached for Lin’s hand. “It’s for Will that you’re doing this, and don’t you forget it even for one minute.”

“No, not really, Sally. If I’m honest with myself, it’s for me. I want to see that bastard suffer the way Will and I had to suffer. His son ate macaroni and cheese for weeks at a time when he was younger. I didn’t even have enough money to feed him properly. He was three before he knew what a damned ear of fresh corn was. It’s a miracle he didn’t have rickets or some such disease from a vitamin deficiency. I want Nicholas to live in fear, like I had to those first few years. Fear of anything, whether it be his last meal, or fear that he’ll lose his last dollar.”

I remember when Will was around four years old. I took him to McDonald’s for breakfast. It was his first time there. Can you believe that? I remember feeling as though something was missing. I felt out of sorts. At first I thought it was because we were actually going to a restaurant for a meal. I remembered thinking that I’d always felt fear as a child, but then when I saw how tough it was to raise a child alone, the fear I’d felt as a kid almost seemed like a joke compared to what I felt each time I walked into Winn-Dixie or Kroger. I feared I wouldn’t be able to provide enough. It was always there, nagging like a damned toothache. Never enough. Never enough. Then it hit me that morning at McDonald’s. I realized the daily fear was gone. I actually felt normal for the first time in my life. In a McDonald’s. Can you believe that?” Lin shook her head in wonderment.