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  As promised, Logan had the account information ready when Karen arrived at the bank. “I’ll try my best to answer any questions you might have about your father’s account. You expressed some concerns about the balance. Is that correct?”

  Karen nodded and waited while she brought up the current statement on the computer.

  “Hmmm. Okay. We show a balance of $122,210.79 in checking and $458,156.12 in savings.”

  Karen glanced down at the bankbook to double check the accuracy of the figures. “Wait a minute!” she blurted out. “His balance in checking is approximately $50,000 more than that figure. Could you check that again?”

  Logan raised her eyes from the screen, noted the look of panic, and read off the numbers again, “$122,210.79.”

  Karen spoke softly but emphatically, “No, that’s not right. See.” She passed the bankbook across the desk.

  Glancing down, Logan felt a twinge of anxiety and tried hard not to show it. She began the process of balancing the checks written and debited from the account. Everything seemed to be in order but the numbers didn’t agree.

  “Mrs. Sands, does anyone else have access to this account?”

  Karen started to respond but Logan interrupted, “It looks like there have been quite a few large checks written lately, signed by a Mr. Jake Turner.”

  With caution in her voice, “Mr. Turner is my father’s lawyer.”

  Logan looked at the computer screen again and confirmed that Travis Morton had given Jake authorization to sign checks from his account about three months ago. “Do you know if your father kept track of these transactions over the last few months?”

  Shaking her head, Karen explained, “My Dad has been very ill the last six months. It’s possible he authorized his attorney to pay the medical bills.”

  Looking dazed, she explained that she had just recently reunited with her father and had little knowledge of business arrangements made.

  Feeling a pang of empathy for this grieving young woman since she had lost both of her parents at a young age, Logan offered to investigate further and call Karen later that day before she left for California.

  With a look of concern, extending her hand, she gratefully accepted the young bank officer’s help.

  There must be a mistake!

  She turned to leave the office, shoulders slumped, a feeling of helplessness permeating her whole being.

  “Poor thing”, Logan muttered, watching Karen exit through the revolving doors at the front entrance to the bank.

  * * * * *

  Working through the lunch hour on Travis Morton’s account, Logan’s alarm increased with each transaction scrutinized. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized that the amount of money missing from the account could only be traced to Mr. Turner, checks to cover medical bills, household expenses, and some written for cash. The difference in the balance came to approximately $50,000 even though the monthly statements seemed to be in order. Apparently no one else had been checking the account the last few months.

  “Why would a lawyer need that kind of money?” Logan whispered to herself, now wondering if Jake Turner’s name appeared on any other accounts.

  Her fingers flying, she looked for other accounts where his name appeared as a co-signer.

  “Hello”, gasping as the computer lit up with several other names.

  The details of each account flashed across the screen. Noting a pattern, Logan saw several large checks he had written over the last few years. All accounts were in the names of elderly patrons who rarely came into the bank or called.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re missing money too!”

  She spent the next two hours calling some of the owners of the accounts or their caregivers. In every case, Mr. Turner was acknowledged as the person responsible for paying the bills from their accounts. When asked to give their balance, Logan noted huge discrepancies. Questioned about monthly statements, they explained that Mr. Turner received those and sent them duplicate copies.

  She wondered if he doctored monthly statements to cover up his thefts?

  Not wanting to alarm anyone, she explained that she was confirming the balance as part of an internal audit. Everyone she spoke with was very cooperative, and by the time she completed the last phone call, Logan ascertained that approximately $225,000 was missing from eleven different bank accounts. Mr. Morton suffered the largest loss.

  I guess he figured he could take advantage of a sick, old man who didn’t have long to live, she thought. All of the victims were wealthy senior citizens who had entrusted Jake Turner with their life savings.

  “The man has a lot of explaining to do,” she fumed, “and I plan to nail him!”

  Quickly, she walked over to see Bill Jensen, the bank manager. Peering through the glass, she saw him talking on the phone and gently tapped to get his attention.

  He motioned for her to come in, mouthing that he would not be long.

  She plopped down in the chair and waited patiently.

  Bill noticed the worried look on her face and quickly made up an excuse to end his phone conversation.

  “Hey, don’t look so serious kid. What’s up?”

  Exhaling, “I think I have a problem and I need your help.”

  His tone turned cautious. “What’s wrong?”

  When she summarized the events of the afternoon, his brow creased and he started to rub his chin with his hand, a habit he had, stroking his beard.

  The only problem was he had shaved off his beard last year when his wife, Alice, declared that either the beard went or she did! She was finally fed up with ‘the scratchy old thing’. When it came to his wife, Bill was a pussycat. He shaved off the beard but never shook the habit of stroking his chin like it was still there.

  As Logan watched this unconscious movement, she was reminded of the attention they had given her since she started working at the bank three years ago. Calling her “kid” was not derogatory at all. In fact, he used the term affectionately as her parents would have.

  When Bill and Alice found out her parents had died in a tragic car accident when she was in college, they welcomed her into their home as they would a daughter. She was always with them for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and all the other holidays. For the first time since her parents’ accident, Logan felt a true sense of family with Bill and Alice, who had no children themselves and looked upon Logan as their daughter.

  Now he listened intently, concern mounting as he considered the ramifications of what she was telling him.

  “I don’t like this, Bill. I think we might want to pull in one of our auditors to look at it.”

  He stared out the window, pondering the sticky situation and the action to take. He had never regretted the day he hired Logan. She waltzed into his office three years ago with an air of confidence about her that did not travel far from the surface.

  He recognized her brash ‘can do’ attitude was tied more to a lack of self-esteem than arrogance. So, he went about nurturing her enthusiasm and channeling it deeper and deeper until inherent charm and creativity slowly emerged, confirming his faith.

  Just a few months ago, Logan was promoted to assistant branch manager, her gratitude only matched by his pride in her accomplishments. He trusted her suspicions and recognized her genuine concern.

  After several minutes of silence, he swiveled his chair around to face her. “Okay. I want you to handle this. Call Scott and ask him to take a look. Can you free your schedule so you can work with him?”

  Logan nodded affirmatively.

  “If this turns out to be what we think it is, Jake Turner could be in big trouble. I mean this is a criminal offense.”

  “I know”, Logan said softly, face drawn and lines forming across her forehead.

  As she turned to leave, Bill added, “Be careful”.

  Her hand waved up and down in a dismissive motion as she moved toward the door.

  He watched her leave with more than a little worry for her…and the bank.<
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  Returning to her desk, she placed a call to Scott Harris, their best auditor. Tracking him down at a nearby branch, he promised to be there in an hour.

  Logan pulled her lunch bag out of the bottom drawer and nibbled absentmindedly on her sandwich. Anxiety grew every time she glanced up at the computer screen.

  I don’t understand ... Why does he need that kind of money? I mean, $225,000? Lawyers make good money. It just doesn’t make sense. She stared straight ahead, lost in thought.

  Her eyes traveled up to the clock on the wall. Dreading the call, she punched in the numbers to Travis Morton’s residence. Karen answered on the first ring. Logan summarized the steps she had taken that morning to investigate the account.

  Listening intently as Logan explained that other irregularities were found and the bank would have an auditor look into it later, Karen reminded her that she had to fly back to California but would be available by cell phone. She gave Logan both that number and her home phone number before they ended the call.

  Karen’s hand still rested on the receiver when Harry walked into the room.

  He bent over to pick up her suitcases.

  “That was Ms. Massey from the bank. Evidently there is a discrepancy of $50,000 between what is in the account and what the bank statement shows. She also found missing funds in other accounts, all controlled by Jake Turner.”

  Harry hit the table with one of the suitcases as he turned towards her. The lamp swayed and would have fallen if she had not grabbed it with her free hand. His irritation increased as he realized that he had been right all along. He was angry with himself for not telling Travis or Karen sooner.

  “I knew it!” He struggled to gain his composure. “What does Ms. Massey plan to do now?”

  “She has an auditor coming this afternoon to go over the accounts and call me when they know more.”

  “I wish I had warned you. I felt like something wasn’t right but I wasn’t sure.”

  Karen reached up and brushed her fingers against his cheek, gently stroking his face. Softly, “Let the bank handle it, Harry. Jonathon and I will be back next week. Maybe he’ll be in jail by then.”

  “Nothing would give me more pleasure.” Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on top of her head. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

  All Karen could muster was a slight nod of her head as she buried herself in his shoulder and wept.

  But Harry’s intuition told him there was more to come, a lot more.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jake’s drug-induced sleep was rudely disrupted the next morning by the jarring ring of the telephone. Daylight filtered through the skylight as he stirred on the couch, hoisting up on his elbows, adjusting his vision to a blinding morning sun. He rubbed his hands across his eyes, all the while listening to the persistent jangle.

  He picked up the receiver. “Hello”, slurring the word. His throat felt like a wad of cotton was lodged precariously on the hump of his tongue. Blinking his eyelids up and down rapidly, he strived to make out the numbers on the clock ... 8:15 a.m.

  “Jake, it’s Linda,” his secretary announced.

  “What do you want?” he growled.

  Oh, he’s in one of those moods. Jake had been up and down lately. Quite frankly she was getting fed up with his personality swings.

  “I just had a call from a Ms. Logan Massey at First National Bank.”

  His eyes shot open and he sat straight up on the couch. “The bank? What? What did she want?”

  He heard concern in Linda’s voice, “She wants to discuss some of your clients’ accounts, Travis Morton for one. Didn’t he die recently?”

  His eyes darted furtively around the room. Think, man! What can you tell her?

  His brain tried to make sense out of what she had just said, desperately struggling to come up with a response, picturing Linda slumped over her desk, speaking in a low voice so as not to alert any of the other employees at the law firm. She probably had a pencil placed behind her ear, rubbing it back and forth across the tip as she spoke, an unnerving habit she had had for as long as he had known her.

  “Jake”, she prodded, “She wants to know when you can meet with them.”

  “Them . . . who’s them?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. She wants to know when you can meet with her and an auditor, named Scott Harris.”

  Damn! Further warning bells went off at the mention of the word, ‘auditor’. Think! Think! I should have done something right away-like yesterday!

  Now, he really needed to consider his next move. He knew Linda would cover for him if he asked, because she’d been protecting him for quite a while, making excuses, shielding him from all the anger and frustration over missed appointments she’d heard from everyone.

  “Give me some time, Linda.”

  “Time! Jake, you don’t have any more time. These people want to meet with you now!”

  Mind racing, trying to formulate a plan, his first reaction was to escape, but he had no money. The bank would be monitoring the accounts.

  It was about the missing money; it had to be! But, how did they find out? Jake drilled his fist into the couch cushion, wondering how much they already knew, questions swirled, panic closed in.

  He had to come up with a way to stall. But he was so disoriented from the cocaine ingested last night, all he could manage was a mass of jumbled thoughts that didn’t make any sense or give any direction.

  “I’m sick, Linda.” he finally blurted out. “I…I’ve been up all night.”

  “You’re sick!”

  “Tell them ... tell them to meet me tonight at 6:00 at my office. I should be feeling better by then,” he pleaded.

  “Welllll...l’ll try my best…but can’t you meet with them earlier?”

  “No, I can’t! Didn’t I tell you I’m sick!” he yelled into the phone.

  “Okay, I guess.” Linda replied hurtfully.

  With a tinge of guilt, “Listen, I’m sorry, but you have to do this for me. Just tell them I’ll be there at 6:00 sharp,” hanging up quickly without even a ‘goodbye’.

  Linda held onto the phone, shaking her head in amazement. “That bastard!”

  Disgusted, she dialed Ms. Massey back with the information to meet Jake tonight in his office.

  Maybe all those rumors are true, she thought. Her face couldn’t hide the disappointment because she had had a crush on her boss for a long time. In the past she would have defended him, but a nagging doubt crept in now, leaving her unsure of her future.

  When Linda first interviewed for the secretarial job, she was captivated with his good looks and charm. In the beginning she admired Jake’s ability to acquire new clients and impress the older, more established ones. Other secretaries hinted he was in line for a partnership. So caught up in the excitement, she didn’t notice the lapses and absences until much later when his client list began to dwindle. At first she tried to cover for him, justifying the missed appointments and never returned phone calls. She offered explanations when co-workers noticed his prolonged absences from the office. Her admiration eroding, she no longer ignored the obvious.

  She knew something was dreadfully wrong. Linda rubbed the pencil back and forth across the tip of her ear.

  Maybe I’d better start looking for another job, she thought, waiting for Logan to answer the phone.

  * * * * *

  The window at the end of the hall in front of the office reflected the brilliant oranges and reds of the setting sun. All was quiet as the door to the office stood closed, a lone fortress to the stream of humanity that had inhabited the building a short while ago, but now formed long trails of traffic leading to the suburbs.

  Jake slumped over his desk, contemplating the visit he had just concluded with Logan Massey and the bank auditor. Deep crevices formed across his forehead as he recognized the inevitable.

  He knew it wouldn’t last forever. The costly cocaine habit had finally caught up with him. For the last few years,
he had fallen deeper and deeper into drug addiction until it consumed his life. He had dreaded the day he would be discovered for the thief he was and would have to pay for his crimes.

  What can I do? Rubbing the crevices on his forehead, leaving visible red marks, it seemed as if he was trying to eradicate the criminal acts he was being accused of committing.

  He always had the intention of paying the money back, but was never able to dig himself out of the horrible abyss. No more excuses or broken promises now; no more lying, stealing, cheating. The secret was out. Feeling powerless, all he could think was ‘I’m going to jail!’

  Slowly, Jake slid his desk drawer open, reached in and grasped the hard, cold steel of his handgun, placing it gently on the desk beside the single white sheet of paper. He glanced down at his choices--the gun and the line of coke resting on the sheet of paper.

  Drumming his fingers, he remembered his first time experimenting with drugs at law school, the world of stress relievers and social highs. He was taking a class called “Legal Writing”. The professor was Dr. Hannaford. Both were dry and boring.

  His roommate gave him a joint one night while he was struggling with writing a brief for the class. Jake discovered it created this most magnificent mellow feeling. One joint and he could write a masterpiece! It certainly eased the pain caused by the monotony of sitting in class every day and listening to the prof’s lectures. One joint and he was firmly convinced that his other classes could benefit from a little ‘pharmaceutical security’, as he liked to call it.

  Over the course of three years in law school, he graduated to harder drugs to generate the same brand of success experienced with marijuana. Eventually he had difficulty separating the reality of what the drugs did ‘for’ him with what they did ‘to’ him. Slowly, his deteriorating disturbed mind justified the chemicals and he came to depend on them more and more. During third year Law Jake was introduced to the power of cocaine, only to exude confidence. He WAS confident, at least in his mind.

  Managing to graduate with honors, due more to his energy and willingness to work long, hard hours, not to his intellectual ability, the drugs helped him through school and to get a job.