The Payback

The Payback –––––––– Book 3 in the Clarke Pettis Series –––––––– Christine Pattle Table of Contents Title Page Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 A Letter to the Reader THE THEFT SECRETS NEVER DIE About The Author Acknowledgments Copyright Chapter 1 Clarke Pettis wriggled into her dress in the cramped changing room, knocking over her handbag and spilling half its contents onto the floor. She pulled up the zip as far as she could reach before bending down carefully to retrieve everything, trying not to let the pristine white satin brush against the floor. She quickly stuffed her purse and phone safely back in her bag, followed by a scarf, a pair of gloves, and a used concert ticket from last week. The remaining item, a folded piece of paper, stared at her defiantly, daring her to leave it on the floor and walk away. She picked it up by one corner with two fingers, as if it might burn a hole in her hand, and dropped it into her handbag before changing her mind and pushing it firmly down to the bottom of the bag. “Is everything ok? Come on out so I can admire you,” Clarke’s mother, Diana, called through the door. Clarke composed herself and walked out into the shop. “Wow! You look stunning,” her mother said excitedly. “I’ve been dying to see the dress all week.” Clarke stared in the full-length mirror. For once, her appearance really pleased her. She wanted an understated wedding dress, something classic and elegant, avoiding at all costs any resemblance to a meringue. The lovely white satin dress that clung to her body and showed off her figure fit the bill perfectly. Best of all, the wide half sleeves covered her well-muscled swimmer’s shoulders. She absolutely loved it. “It needs taking in slightly,” she said to the assistant. “Of course.” The assistant checked the fit and pinned a couple of small tucks in the dress. “We’ll have it ready for you on Monday.” “The wedding’s next Saturday,” Diana reminded her, then turned to Clarke. “Why don’t we go for a coffee?” Clarke smiled. Right now, she craved a nice strong cup of coffee. “What’s the matter?” her mum asked as they sat in the coffee shop. “You’re very quiet today.” “I’ve got things on my mind, that’s all.” “Is it the wedding? You’re not having second thoughts, I hope?” “No, absolutely not. Well, slight nerves, perhaps, but not second thoughts.” She loved Paul and no longer doubted that this would be forever. “That’s a relief,” her mother said, “since I’ve already paid for the dress.” She laughed. “So, what is it?” Clarke replied in one word, “Tammy.” “Tammy? What about Tammy?” Diana looked worried. “Evan wants me to visit her in prison.” She’d been having serious misgivings about the idea ever since Evan Davies, her manager at Tebbit & Cranshaw, the firm of forensic accountants who Clarke now worked for, had suggested it. And, in the last two years since Tammy got arrested and then convicted, she’d managed to avoid visiting. “I received a visiting order this morning.” At this very moment, it was burning a hole in the bottom of her handbag. She dreaded seeing Tammy again. “Is that any of Evan’s business?” Diana asked. “Tebbit & Cranshaw has been asked to trace the money Tammy stole from Briar Holman.” When she said Tebbit & Cranshaw, she actually meant herself. She had been asked as, in this particular case, she was the big attraction. The management at Briar Holman knew of Clarke’s history with Tammy Doncaster from when they both worked for the company. Clearly, they assumed she stood a better chance of getting the money back than anyone. Clarke was a lot less sure of that premise than they were. “They assume if I talk to her, she might tell me where she’s hidden the money.” “Fat chance of that, from what I’ve heard of Tammy,” her mother said. “It’s three million pounds. She won’t give that back in a hurry.” “I completely agree. Tammy won’t tell me anything. She fed me a pack of lies before, didn’t she? Why would she tell the truth now?” “Evan shouldn’t be asking you to do it.” “Evan’s not putting any pressure on me.” But Clarke fully realised how much he wanted her to do it, which did pile on the pressure. “What should I do? I still feel guilty that I helped get her convicted, and even guiltier about not bothering to visit in two years. She was meant to be my friend.” “Friends don’t lie like she did, and they certainly don’t attempt to kill you. You can’t blame yourself for other people’s mistakes.” “I know, but I can’t help it.” Clarke worried about how difficult it would be to see Tammy again. She’d never actually visited anyone in prison, and it didn’t sound as if it would be a pleasant experience. Surely prison would have changed her, probably not for the best. Clarke wouldn’t blame her one bit for being bitter. Tammy killed a man, so she wouldn’t get released anytime soon. That must be depressing, contemplating the many years stretching in front of her. Clarke wondered what she would say to her. What did you say to someone you’d put in prison when you wanted to get them on side so that they would tell you where they hid the money they embezzled? There were no words to make that happen. Right now, the three million pounds Tammy stole probably languished in some private bank account on the other side of the world, waiting for her to be released from prison. She would want the money