Return to Sender by Fern Michaels Page B

newspapers laid out on the table, Nick immediately went to his desk, where he booted up his laptop. Ever since he’d cut off Chelsea’s lines of credit, he’d received several notices from his bank, a bank he’d borrowed millions from in the past—a bank that was now putting a temporary freeze on his line of credit and his personal accounts. What was up with that? When the cat’s away, the mouse will play, or something like that. Where the hell did that thought come from? Surely his wife wasn’t smart enough to…What? He had to admit, he didn’t know.
    Not wanting to alert Chelsea that he knew what she was up to, he’d been acting as though nothing were awry. He didn’t want to call the bank from home or send them an e-mail, fearing she would find out he was onto her. No, he was going to play it nice and slow. Too bad he had the damn treatments to contend with. He was the first to admit he wasn’t firing on all cylinders.
    He pulled up his accounts from the Bank of Manhattan, punching in a series of security codes. Nothing came up. He tried a second time. Still nothing.
    “Rosa!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Get in here right now! ”
    The dumpy little woman came flying around the corner with a tray in her hands. “Sir, I’m working as fast as I can. Here is your tea. We didn’t have any lemon, and I had to send out for some.”
    “Has Chelsea been in my office? I swear, if you lie to me, I’ll fire you on the spot.” Nick stood up, even though he felt wobbly and unsteady. He wasn’t about to allow his authority to be undermined by a damned illness. No way.
    “Sir, you told me she wasn’t allowed in your office. I have respected that order. Mrs. Pemberton was here, but I followed your orders. In fact, sir, I kept the key to your office in my purse. She did not enter your office. Sir.”
    Nicholas looked into the frightened woman’s eyes and decided she was telling the truth. Rosa was almost a saint, but he knew how persuasive Chelsea could be when money was at stake. “You’re positive?”
    “Absolutely, sir,” she said. Hesitantly, she placed the pot of tea on the coffee table, where the newspapers were scattered about.
    “Has anyone else been inside my office?” Nick demanded. “Anyone at all?”
    “Again, sir, I did just as you instructed. I didn’t even let the cleaning crew in to clean. I’m sorry about the dust.”
    Nick nodded. “It’s all right, Rosa. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Nick closed his eyes. He needed to get a grip on things. He’d just made his secretary cry and practically accused her of conspiring with his wife to do him in. Yes, sir, he was definitely in line for the Boss of the Year Award.
    Suddenly weak, he sat down. He’d done just what Dr. Reeves had told him not to do. He’d felt fine that morning, but at the moment he wasn’t even sure if he had the energy to summon Herbert. Nick allowed himself a moment to relax. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he carefully typed his pass codes into the computer. Again, he was denied access to his accounts. He chewed on his lower lip as he contemplated his next move. He gave his head a slight shake and dialed the number of Andrew Miller, his personal investment banker and the chief financial adviser for Pemberton Transport.
    The investment banker picked up on the first ring. “Miller,” the voice said curtly.
    “I’m being denied access to my personal accounts. What’s going on, Andrew?”
    “Nicholas! Good to hear from you. You must be feeling better. I heard you were a bit under the weather. Yes, I’m aware of the problem, and I sent you a couple of letters advising you of the fact. Possibly your mail piled up, or you just didn’t get to it. It appears that someone other than you has managed to change your security codes. We put a freeze on all your accounts until our fraud team can trace that person to the originating source.”
    “How long is that going to take?” Nick