Free When Tomorrow Comes by Lindsay McKenna Page B

it,” she promised softly. “We’d better get over to the records office, or Louie will think we’ve gotten lost.”
    Before they left the truck to go into the records trailer, Cait reached out. It was the first time she had deliberately touched his arm, and she felt the warmth and hardness of his muscles beneath her fingertips.
    “Thanks,” she said in a hushed tone. “For being there.”
    “I’ll be there again if you need me, Cait. Just remember that.”
    Louie looked up as they entered the trailer. His gaze settled on Cait, and his frown deepened. “You look like hell.”
    “Go easy on her,” Dominic warned, a growl in his voice.
    Cait’s eyes widened briefly. For the second time in twelve months she felt she had a protector. She patted Louie on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Louie. Dominic had the misfortune of walking in when I was having my usual nightmare.”
    “You okay, darlin’?”
    “Yes, fine. He makes a good cup of coffee. Did you know that?”
    Louie grinned. “I knew Tobbar was good for something. You feel up to all this, or not?”
    Cait sat down opposite Louie and watched Dominic pull up another chair. “I have to be. Did you two stay up all night?”
    “Don’t we look it, Rose?”
    “No. I look worse than both of you combined, and I supposedly got some sleep.” She laughed.
    The controller made a face and laid eleven bills of lading out neatly in front of her. “This problem is much larger than we anticipated, darlin’. Not only are some of the materials not reaching the site, but what is reaching the site is being over billed.”
    “Such as?”
    “Dom was kind enough to prowl around early this morning and do some weighing and counting for me—petrol levels, acetylene, and about eight other assorted items. He counted what we really have, against what we supposedly received and used. In every instance, there was less than what was tallied on the storekeeper’s inventory sheets.”
    Cait pressed her lips together. “So what’s your final analysis, Louie?”
    “To keep this kind of systematic kickback going, someone needs to keep a very good set of records. Our friend Cirre has probably got another set of books with the real figures. Do you see the implications of all this?”
    She sought Dominic’s face and saw his agreement. “What kind of money are we talking so far, Louie?”
    “If these eleven items are projected over the previous year, I would say at least six hundred thousand dollars. Is that enough to take to BA with you in your report?”
    The pit of her stomach knotted. “Damn,” Cait whispered. She gritted her teeth at the thought of the long-range implications. How could Hank Parker let something like this go undetected? Or—she gasped, turning to Louie. “You aren’t saying Campos covered this whole thing up, are you?”
    The silence became almost tangible as she looked from Louie to Dominic and back again. Getting to her feet, she began to pace, unable to sit still any longer. Campos was a trusted site supervisor…but only he could get away with so much pilferage.
    Finally Louie broke the silence.
    “Hank Parker was no dummy, darlin’. He had to be very sick most of the time not to notice that Campos was gradually weaning control away from him. Look at this. Eighty-five percent of the invoices are signed by Campos, starting about a year ago. Materials invoices should have been signed by Hank. We’ve dug far enough back in the records to show the gradual takeover by Campos.”
    Louie brought forward another handful of reports and placed them in front of her. “Campos hated Dom, here, because he reported, in writing, all the problems. As you can see, none of these reports has been initialed by Hank, so he never saw them and couldn’t act on the problem. Campos very conveniently kept them in the bottom drawer of his desk, under lock and key.” Louie allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. “I’m still a fairly decent lock-picker when I want