“Baby, just relax, lie back. There isn’t anything Rick has to say you can’t take lying down. It’ll be okay.” Jack glared across the room, noting the uncomfortable look on Rick’s face. Good, he needed to sweat a bit.
“We’re not accusing you, Miss Hilliard. Instead, we’d like to know if you recognize these.” Rick pulled several plastic-encased checks from his briefcase and extended his arm. “They were made out to BMC Consulting. My understanding is you do not use checks?”
“How would you know that?” Jack demanded.
“We got old bank records as part of our investigation. Miss Hilliard has a checking account, but has never ordered checks, nor has she ever written one.” Rick paused. “I am good at what I do, Jack.”
“No, I don’t. I never have. Doctor Reimer suggested I avoid it to steer clear of my mother tampering with my accounts.” Gillian gagged as she stared at the documents in front of her. Flipping through them, she glanced up. “I’ve never heard of this company. I don’t use any consulting firms. And I really don’t have this kind of cash.”
“I’m going to be brutally honest here, Miss Hilliard. We suspected as much. The account belongs to you. Your legal representative, Miss Willows, confirmed it. It was opened before your father was killed. It was set up to release a set amount each month for living expenses, but someone, a person in a position of trust and power, altered the guidelines of the trust. In truth we suspect someone has been funneling funds, and up until recently they were pretty smart about it. We’d like to know if we have your cooperation in regards to this investigation.”
“What? Why?” Gillian glanced between Rick and Jack, her emotions swinging wildly. “I … of course I’ll do whatever you need. I didn’t know anything about this account. I just don’t understand where the money would come from. I know you’ve explained, but this is all so unreal to me.”
His heart dropped at the meek whimper from Gillian as she dropped the stack of checks on the coffee table and stared at them. Somehow, he doubted this was even close to being resolved.
* * * *
The Warden hadn’t been too keen on her visiting Mike anymore. He’d blathered on about how it was only for family. After promising this would be the last visit, he’d consented to it. Still, she needed to get things taken care of, and she needed Mike to do his share. Barbara paced the confines of the small cabin, her fists planted on her hips. A glance out the window revealed the guards escorting Mike toward her. She paced toward the kitchen and back again, her anger burning hotter with each step.
“Well, if this isn’t a delightful surprise?” Mike whistled as he closed the door. “The old man not doing it for you these days?”
Barbara reached out, the crack of her palm against his cheek loud in the silence. “I asked you to find me a killer. Not someone who couldn’t deliver. Do you think for a moment that if they figure it out you’re going to walk?”
Ignoring the fury twisting his face into an ugly mask, Barbara shook her head. “Gillian’s very much alive, in spite of your friend’s meddling with the car. Frankly, it seems a rather risky method to do the job. Her new boyfriend was at the hospital when she was released, and in spite of my attempts to contact her, she’s beyond my reach. Jack won’t let me anywhere near her. He acts like some besotted fool.”
“He didn’t have nothin’ to do with her car, he favors a knife or something like it. Not my problem. The bitch is—”
“They also froze the account.” Barbara leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Which leads me to think they may be aware of a few things, which should they come to light could have far-reaching consequences. For both of us. Yesterday, my asshole husband took away the credit cards, which leaves me a little on the broke side!”
“Well, can’t help you with that husband of yours. Look, Gillian’s a coward, she’s gonna run. Just have to know where to hit her the hardest.” Mike rolled his shoulders. “Just so happens I know. You get me the cell I asked for?”
“Of course I have it. The guards don’t know it or I’d have been refused entry.” Barbara pulled out the slim cell and handed it over. “Why? What are you going to do?”
“You got a number for lover boy?”
“Of course.” Barbara smirked. “If there’s anything good of having my husband, it’s knowing his staff’s phone numbers. Four-oh-three, five-five-five, two-one-two-two.” Hovering over him, she watched Mike fiddle with the slim phone before he punched in the numbers with a happy little snicker. Snapping the phone shut, he offered a slick grin.
“What did you do?”
“Saved the number for later. I’ll just have to make sure the guards don’t get their hands on this little baby.” Mike pressed her back against the wall. “Bitch may think she’s free, but she ain’t. Now, you wanna talk about her or use our time a bit more productively?”
Barbara gasped when his hand tightened around her throat. She shivered, arousal a slow, hot sludge through her veins as he jerked her pants open and his hand slithered inside to rub at her clit. She whimpered, thrusting her breasts out as he slid his hand down her throat, tugging and ripping buttons loose to reveal her black lace bra.
She stifled a wince when he bit her breast, and she raised a hand and ran her fingers through his hair. Whimpering and moaning with each nip of his teeth, she gasped. Spreading her legs slightly, she caught her breath as he rammed two fingers into her pussy, his fingers stretching her, thumb tracing over her clit. Hurried, his touch was rough, careless even. A startled gasp slipped from her lips when he backed away, jerked her pants down around her
