latest in encryption technology.”
“So there is absolutely no way someone could get access to my statement without my permission? What about bank personnel?”
“In most cases of illicit access to bank accounts, the security loophole lies with the client. Mail can be intercepted. A password can be stolen or, more often, divulged to someone who shouldn’t have it.”
She started to vehemently deny the problem could be on her end. She memorized her passwords, never wrote them down anywhere. But she did receive paper statements.
“Very well, thank you, Mr. Temple.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Shinn.”
She hung up, knowing little more than she’d known half an hour ago.
Given what Griffin Benedict had told her, she had to view that strange deposit with new eyes. Rather than a mistake, could it be part of a plot to ruin her? If someone really had provided Griffin with that bogus tip along with the stolen bank statement, it meant she had an enemy. A powerful one who had gone to some expense to wreck her reputation.
Plenty of people did not like her. The nature of her job was confrontational. She was constantly challenging unlawful judicial proceedings, inept lawyers, negligent police investigators. When a conviction was overturned, it meant someone, somewhere, had made a mistake or worse, and she had brought it to light.
Some of her own clients didn’t even like her. Few of them were shining examples of virtue.
Then there was the general public. Project Justice received hate mail all the time from people who thought the foundation’s mission was to let killers out on the street.
The press alternated between loving her and hating her. She’d been in the news a lot lately with the Eldon Jasperson thing.
Even her own in-laws despised her. She’d never shared a warm relationship with them: they hadn’t considered her a good match for their only son. Once they’d realized they couldn’t talk Jason out of the wedding, they had tolerated her. But after Jason’s death, the claws had come out again.
Jason’s parents had blamed her for the fatal car accident. As if she hadn’t heaped enough guilt onto herself.
After his funeral, she had quickly learned of her perilous financial situation. Everything Jason had owned was in trust, controlled by his parents, and they weren’t inclined to give her a dime. Without him and his family’s financial support, she could not continue running the law practice she and her husband had poured all of their passion into.
Their small firm of Shinn & Shinn had specialized in providing solid legal representation to those who couldn’t afford to pay exorbitant legal fees—and they’d never made a profit. All of their living expenses had been drawn from Jason’s trust. If Project Justice hadn’t come along at the right time, Raleigh would have had to accept her only other job offer, as a drone at a corporate law firm.
Raleigh’s stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t had lunch. Daniel kept the office kitchen stocked with all kinds of healthy goodies, but Raleigh needed fresh air. A walk around the corner to her favorite deli was in order.
As she passed through the lobby she walked on tiptoe, hoping to avoid the receptionist’s attention. Celeste Boggs was one of the most terrifying people Raleigh knew. She was a vigilant watchdog, could purportedly shoot the wings off a gnat at fifty yards, and was fiercely loyal to Daniel Logan. Raleigh didn’t doubt the seventy-something woman would lay down her life to protect the foundation.
But Celeste was short on manners, and once she started talking she was hard to walk away from. Right now, thankfully, she appeared to be engrossed in a copy of True Romance.
Raleigh had almost reached the revolving door when Celeste’s screech of a voice rooted her to the spot.
“Ms. Shinn? Is that you?”
She turned, forcing a smile. “Yes. I was just—”
“You have to sign out. How many times do I have to tell you young people to sign in and out?”
“But I was just going to—”
Celeste extended the clipboard and pen toward Raleigh with an admonishing frown.
Fearing Celeste would give her detention if she argued further, Raleigh signed the sheet.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, where do you get your hair done?” Celeste asked.
“My hair?” No one ever asked her that. “I cut it myself. That’s about all I do to it, besides wash it.” Raleigh didn’t have time for fancy salons. So long as her hair was out of her face and reasonably neat, she was happy.
“That explains it,” Celeste murmured, pushing her purple glasses back onto the bridge of her nose.
Raleigh put a self-conscious hand up to her hair. Not that Celeste had a lot of room to criticize, with her wildly curly gray locks pointing every which way. But was Raleigh’s do that bad?
She was about to turn back toward the door when Beth McClelland, Project Justice’s physical evidence coordinator, rushed into the lobby, her platform shoes clattering noisily on the wood floor.
“Oh, Raleigh, I’m so glad I caught you.”
Celeste frowned her disapproval at Beth. “Ms. Shinn is officially signed out. You’ll have to wait until she gets back.”
Raleigh wasn’t about to ignore her best friend. “What is it, Beth?”
Beth shook a manila envelope triumphantly in the air. “I got the DNA results back on the Rhiner case,” she said in a singsong voice. “And I think you’re going to like the resu—”
“What part of signed out don’t you understand?” Celeste interrupted.
“Just leave it on my desk,” Raleigh said in a stage whisper to Beth. “My office door is open.”
Celeste tsked.
Beth looked puzzled. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good. I mean, normally you would be prying these DNA results out of my hands.”
Raleigh brought herself back to the here and now. Beth was right—she should be excited. “So Rhiner didn’t do it?”
“Not only that, but the FBI got a hit on their computer. New suspect. Next-door neighbor.”
“Girls!” Celeste objected. “You’re in a public place! You must discuss your sensitive information some where else.”
Beth looked around at the otherwise deserted lobby, then hid a smile. “Sorry.” She quickly signed out, then walked with Raleigh out the door.
“Where you off to?”
“Just the deli.”
“I’ll walk with you. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
Beth’s concern warmed Raleigh. She was the only real friend Raleigh had at work. Not that she didn’t admire and respect her colleagues, but she kept a deliberate distance from them.
Except for Beth. When Beth had gone through an ugly breakup last year, Raleigh had found her crying in the ladies’ room more than once, and her heart had gone out to the woman. She understood pain, and she had done what she could to make Beth feel better. Once Beth started confiding in Raleigh, Raleigh had naturally revealed more of herself.
Raleigh needed to tell someone of her current dilemma, but not in line at the deli counter.
“I’ll tell you—when we can have a more private conversation.”
“Uh-oh, this sounds bad.”
Raleigh said nothing until she had her turkey-and-low-fat-mozzerella on whole wheat and had found an out-of-the-way table tucked into a corner.
“It’s not a big deal,” she finally said. “It’s just that my bank