Four Little Problems

“I guess I can go ahead and tell you. There were several sizeable cash withdrawals made over the past three months. During the time that Tiffany Bigelow was sole signatory.”

Patrick swore under his breath.

Emily silently agreed.

“So I’m in the unenviable position of heaping more grief on the Bigelow family.”

“What effect will this have on the Sea World trip and all the other requests for PTO assistance?” Emily asked.

“The account is frozen. Tiffany had been very excited about a spectacular new connection she’d made for a fund-raising activity, but she didn’t share the details. I’m afraid I was distracted by…other priorities and didn’t give it the attention I should have.”

“Tiffany always took notes.” Patrick leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking she might have files on her home computer.”

“The thought crossed my mind, too. But the police will be involved very soon and I don’t think we’ll be in a position to ask favors from Tiffany’s husband. I sincerely doubt he’ll let us anywhere near her computer.”

Patrick hesitated, glancing at his watch. “It’s late. Surely, you don’t intend to call the police tonight.”

The principal sighed. “No, to be honest I just want to go home and have a glass of wine. This has been one heck of a day.”

“Since there’s nothing more we can do today, why don’t we sleep on it and maybe there will be an obvious solution tomorrow morning?” Patrick’s face was bland, innocent.

But Emily could almost feel electricity rolling off him. He might have sincere hazel eyes, but he was up to something.

“Yes. Let’s call it a day. I’ll update both of you within the next day or so. Remember, this goes no further than this room.”

Emily murmured agreement, aware of Patrick’s hand on her elbow as they left the office.

“Can I talk to you outside?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

“Of course.” Of course…she should run like hell. Because the reliable Mr. Stevens was putting out some decidedly dangerous vibes.

“Where’s your car?” he asked as they left the building.

She nodded in the direction of her minivan. “Over there.”

He was silent as they walked to her car.

Emily punched the button on her keyless entry tag. The lock opened, but she hesitated.

Patrick’s gaze was intent. “I need to ask you to do something for me.”

With some men, she would have figured he was propositioning her. The ones who hadn’t figured out that, although she enjoyed an off-color joke and liked to pretend she was worldly-wise, she kept her sex life toward the nonexistent end of the spectrum. She’d learned the consequences of loving too soon, too easily.

But she suspected Patrick had something else in mind. And that intrigued her.

“What?”

“I need access to Tiffany’s computer.”

“You heard Principal Ross. There’s no way we’ll get near that computer.”

“There’s one way. We go tonight, together, and ask Brad Bigelow. We tell him we’re very sorry to bother him, but we need Tiffany’s PTO files.”

“I’m not going to pester her family while they’re grieving.”

Patrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It is kind of ghoulish. But we’ll be very tactful, very respectful. And we might discover some simple answer for the missing money. We could end up saving her family more grief.”

Emily contemplated his argument. They might actually be helping Tiffany’s family. It was a stretch, though. “Why do I have to be there?”

“People trust you. You’re very open and always say what you think.”

Emily chuckled, a hoarse, desperate sound. And here she’d thought nobody listened to a word she said. “I’m trustworthy, so you want me to lie to a man who suddenly lost his wife and the mother of his children and must be out of his mind with grief.”

“Yes.” He frowned. “I guess that’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Let the police handle it.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do. But you heard Ross. Once the police are involved that computer will be tied up for years. It won’t harm anyone if we copy her PTO files.” He leaned closer, his gaze earnest. “Please?”

“It means that much to you, this Florida trip?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

He glanced away. “I’m not going to disappoint those kids.” His voice was low.

Emily was touched. And wary. This was not the Patrick Stevens she’d met two years ago. “Okay. But I’ll need to get home first to feed my kids and supervise their homework. Should we call Brad?”

“No. Let’s not give him any advance warning.”

“I can meet you at eight. We’ll need the Bigelow’s address. I think they live on Cedar….”

“I’ve got their address in here.” He patted his backpack.

Emily had to wonder why he seemed so prepared, as if he’d known he would need the information. She also had to wonder if maybe there was another reason he was so anxious to get his hands on Tiffany’s files.

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU’RE SURE I shouldn’t follow you to the Bigelows’ house?” Emily asked Patrick when they met later that evening. She’d parked under a light in the coffee house parking lot.

Patrick leaned against a Lexus SUV. “Better if we arrive together—a united front. It’ll seem more natural, like we’re working closely on the project. I’ll drive, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” Might as well use his gas.

He walked around to the other side of the SUV and opened the passenger door for her.

More unexpected gallantry.