Page 41 of The Agent
She scowled. Damn Patrick. That man had broken something inside of her. He’d stolen her capacity for trust. Trust not only for others, but for herself.
Marley pushed aside the distressing thought, got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. When she came out, she rolled a pair of socks onto her feet and tied her hair up, while Caleb continued to sleep. He didn’t look so peaceful this time, though. A crease marred his forehead, as if he were agonizing over something, even in slumber.
She contemplated giving him a wake-up call that would surely vanquish his inner demons, but decided against it. They’d been up late; she ought to give him time to recover before ravishing his body again.
Grinning to herself, she walked downstairs and opened the front door to check the mail. Her postman, Ernie, made his deliveries impossibly early, and sure enough, stacks of envelopes cluttered her mailbox, probably sitting there since seven o’clock on the dot. A few doors down, she noticed her neighbor Kim rooting through her own mailbox. Marley knew the other woman had recently lost her husband, and she offered a gentle smile when the tall brunette spotted her. They waved at each other, then walked into their respective houses.
Marley took the stack of envelopes into the kitchen, flipping through them while she turned on the coffeemaker. She normally paid her bills online, but with Hernandez confiscating her laptop, she’d have to use telephone banking.
After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she sat at the kitchen table and began to go through the mail. Bill, junk, credit card promotion, bill, bank statement—her hand hesitated on the last envelope. She furrowed her brow in confusion. She’d opted for online statements for her checking account, and the statement for her savings account had arrived last week. Why was the bank sending her another statement?
Frowning, she dug her nail under the flap and sliced open the envelope. She pulled out the sheet of paper inside and went utterly still when she noticed Patrick’s name underneath her own at the top of the statement.
She quickly scanned the information, then gasped.
Why on earth was there a hundred thousand dollars in an account that was supposed to be frozen?
CHAPTER 10
STARING AT THE BANK STATEMENT, Marley rubbed her forehead for a moment, just in case the hours of sex she’d engaged in last night had exhausted her more than she’d thought. But when she looked down at the paper again, the transaction record remained the same.
Marley could barely breathe. Why had money been deposited? The cops had led her to believe the account would be frozen. Was it just a bank error, or was the tremor of fear skittering up her spine justified? Oh, God. Was Patrick moving drug money through the account?
She pushed her chair back with a loud scrape against the tiles. Still clutching the statement, she picked up the cordless phone from the kitchen counter and punched in the number of the bank with unsteady fingers.
At the automatic prompt, she keyed in the account number and her PIN, and waited, reminding herself to exhale. An operator came on the line surprisingly quickly, sparing her the awful tinny music every company and institution seemed to use for its hold function.
“This is Jennifer, how can I help you?” came a bubbly voice.
“Hi, Jennifer.” Marley took a breath. “I’m just glancing over my recent bank statement and I noticed some inconsistencies.”
“I can definitely look into that. I need to ask you a few security questions first.”
Marley stifled a grumble as she went through the security process, offering her birth date, address and verifying the account information.
“So what seems to be the problem?” Jennifer asked after the CIA interrogation ended.
Marley’s jaw tightened. “I’m seeing a deposit here, but I was under the impression the account was frozen.”
“Hmm. Let me check your file. Can you hold?” Without waiting for a reply, Jennifer sent Marley into the land of elevator music.
She released the groan she’d been suppressing, wanting to kick something. What was going on? She’d dealt with banking errors before—usually a potential fraud issue where they canceled her ATM card, or an interest reversal—but a one-hundred-thousand dollar deposit in an account that was supposed to be inactive? This was one monster of an error.
Jennifer popped back on the line. “Ms. Kincaid?”
“I’m here.”
“All right, so I noticed on your file that you opened the account with a…Mr. Patrick Neil Grier, is that correct?”
Marley gritted her teeth. “Yes.”
“Well, the account is still active.”
“I can see that.” She sighed. “I’m just wondering why. What about the recent activity I’m seeing on this statement? Can you tell me where the deposit came from?”
“Sure thing. I need to ask you a few more security questions first.”
Oh, for the love of God.
