“So where are we headed—some place a friend owns you won’t be tracked to?”
Kip, who was craning her neck to see if the used car dealership they both remembered was at the next exit, shook her head. “No, it’s a property registered to a little company my grandmother owned called Barb’s Bon Bons. She made wonderful candies and had a little shop for a while, then sold them out of her home by mail order. After she died I thought the registered name might be useful. Plus I didn’t want anyone else using it.”
She laughed before continuing. “I liked making candy with her. I never wanted to be a candy maker, though. The company was a part of her I didn’t have to say goodbye to, so I paid the little bit of fees to keep it open. And when I decided to invest in some property, there were some tax advantages to having the company own it instead of me. Even the utility bill goes to the company’s post office box.”
Tam pointed at the exit signs coming up. “I think the second one is where the used lots are.”
“I think you’re right.”
“It does seem to me that your hideaway is much like my Maldives account. We had good reasons, but it looks suspicious to a suspicious person.”
“Oh.” Kip sounded genuinely surprised. “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess it does look suspicious. I was practicing the American tradition of tax avoidance.”
“And that’s not a crime.”
Her expression suddenly serious, Kip said, “I’ve never committed a crime if you don’t count parking tickets. It makes me very dull, I guess.”
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“The majority of people are just like you.” Tam hesitated.
Kip seemed very vulnerable on the subject. “You play fair, by the rules.”
“Or I don’t take chances. I don’t push the limits. I’m not changing the world. That’s my father’s point of view, anyway, when he’s putting sentences together. Wanted to know why I wasn’t out there barricading the streets when they voted down gay marriage.”
Tam laughed. “You do what you’re best at. You—everything we do at SFI—is about keeping the world in one piece, following the rules that are supposed to keep everyone honest and people’s money safe. We’re as necessary as the visionaries. There’s a reason we don’t take cases if the client won’t agree to prosecution. I look at some of our own employees who planned to retire at sixty-two or sixty-five, and now they’re working until they’re seventy, and that’s because their life savings devalued by half because a bunch of people played roulette with their money and not one of those people has been punished in any meaningful way.”
Embarrassed by how impassioned she’d become, Tam lowered her voice and said, “It just kills me. I wish I had a way to right that wrong. To take a couple billion dollars worth of bonuses now being handed out to some of the same people who are going to do the same things all over again, because there’s no downside for them if they screw up. Somehow spread that money around to people who lost more than they could afford.
People who played by the rules, all their lives.”
“Could you do it?” Kip looked half serious.
Tam snorted. “What are you trying to get me to admit to?”
“It’s just a question.” She signaled to change lanes for their exit.She shrugged. “Okay, it’s not like you didn’t know. If I knew where the money was and where it should go, I could do it. I could pull the biggest Robin Hood ever.”
“I wasn’t planning on doing that this weekend,” Kip said. Her eyes were shining with amusement. “Besides, that would make me Maid Marian and that’s just not a role I’ve ever aspired to.”
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“Oh, you want to be Robin Hood too, admit it.” She pointed at a billboard for a car dealership at the next stoplight.
“No, not really. I want to be the Sheriff of Nottingham—but an honest one.”
Tam laughed and it sounded different to her own ears. Like she really meant it. Wasn’t just going through the motions of expected behavior. She would have to think on it more, because something had changed. And she liked it.
Maybe, what was left of her common sense suggested, she should figure out how to get through the next few days and stay out of prison first.
Kip avoided the potholes of the dealership’s lot. The cars were dusty, and some of them clearly were freshly painted taxis.
It looked exceedingly seedy to her, but that was in their favor.
No electronic filing of ownership papers with the Department of Licensing. She was betting someone took the day’s changes of ownership forms in to be filed the next business day. With any luck no one would suspect they had a different car until Monday.
They might even be back in Seattle by then.
Within minutes Tam had convinced an eager salesman her car had been totaled the day before and she needed to buy a basic replacement right away. It even sounded plausible that she was paying in cash to get the best deal. Kip noticed how smoothly she lied. It was disquieting, but it was necessary. They were only trying to buy themselves a couple of days to keep working on the case. Kip thought there was a good chance they could recover the funds, especially if Tam really was as good as she said she was.
The entire transaction took nearly two hours, with Kip expecting standard-issue sedans bristling with lights and men in blue suits to arrive any minute. But they drove away unhindered, and stopped in a deserted lot long enough to transfer everything from Kip’s car to the serviceable six-year-old beige Cherokee Tam had bought. Then she followed Tam into the Tacoma business 148
district, where she parked her car in a generic parking lot. If the FBI seriously looked for her, they’d find it using the LoJack codes, so trying to hide it more than that wasn’t productive. She walked around the corner to where Tam was waiting and scrambled into the passenger seat.
A glance at her watch told her that any other workday right about now she’d have been having a fourth cup of coffee and figuring out how to skip dinner.
She decided it wasn’t a good time to report to the CEO that someone else was going to have to finish numbering the exhibits for the Wyndham trial. Right then, watching Tam’s hands on the steering wheel, she really didn’t care. Emilio would find someone else to do it.
They grabbed a quick drive-through meal in Olympia, then Tam followed her directions north on 101 toward Shelton. The bright afternoon had yielded to low, heavy clouds. By sunset a steady rain made the road more challenging. The car was filled with darkness and their conversation lagged.
Kip couldn’t tell what Tam was thinking. It was a long drive to Duckabush. Long enough for her to second-guess everything she’d done. In the dark, with all her anxiety surrounding her and telling her she could end up bitter and tainted, she knew she might well regret where she ended up. Only time would tell if it the journey was worth it.
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Chapter tWelVe
Tam stretched as they got out of the car. Kip was already in the door of the little diner, making tracks for the restroom. The rain had turned into a light, dusting snow, unusual for the time of year. She hoped it wasn’t an omen.
A young woman was wiping the counter. She smiled at Tam and said, “Kip says you’re buying.”
Tamara found herself smiling back. “Buying what?”
“Pecan pie and coffee. She said you were in a hurry to beat the weather.” She poured a cup of coffee into a plain white mug, then watched as Tam sipped it.
“This hits the spot,” she said, raising her cup in salute. The waitress continued to stare at her. “Do I have food on my face or something?”
“Sorry. Just curious. Kip’s cool. I’ll be back with your pie in 150