Holding the Dream by Nora Roberts

powerful little body.
    Her pulse bumped, aware that all eyes were on her.
    â€œYou wanted to see me?”
    â€œSit down, Kate.” From his seat at the head of the table, Bittle gestured to one at the foot.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    He cleared his throat as she took her chair, settled. “We thought it best to meet at the end of the workday. You’reaware, I’m sure, that we’ve been involved for the past several days in a check of our accounts.”
    â€œYes, sir.” She smiled. “Speculation’s been racing down the corridors.” When he didn’t smile back, she felt a nervous tickle at the back of her throat. “It’s hard not to get on the rumor train, sir.”
    â€œYes.” He let out a breath, folded his hands. “A discrepancy in an income tax payment came to Mr. Bittle Junior’s attention last week.”
    â€œA discrepancy?” Her gaze shifted to Lawrence.
    â€œIn the Sunstream account,” he clarified.
    â€œThat’s one of mine.” The nervous tickle at the back of her throat changed to a nervous dread in her stomach. Had she made some sort of stupid error in the chaos of the tax crunch? “What kind of discrepancy?”
    â€œThe client’s copy of the tax form indicates a federal payment due of seven thousand six hundred and forty-eight dollars.” Lawrence opened a file, took out a thick stack of papers. “Is this your work, Ms. Powell?”
    He was the only Bittle who called her Ms. Powell. Everyone in the firm was accustomed to his formality. But it was the clipped manner of his speech that put her on alert. Carefully she took out her glasses and slipped them on as the papers were passed down to her.
    â€œYes,” she said after a quick glance. “It’s my account, I did the tax work. This is my signature.”
    â€œAnd as with several of our clients, the firm cuts the checks for tax payments for this one.”
    â€œSome prefer it.” She dropped her hands into her lap. “It distances them, a bit, from the sting. And it’s more convenient.”
    â€œConvenient,” Amanda commented and drew Kate’s eye. “For whom?”
    This was trouble, was all Kate could think. But from what and where? “Many clients prefer to come into the office, discuss the tax situation and the results—argue and vent.” They all knew this, she thought, scanning the table again. Why didshe have to explain? “The client will sign the necessary forms and the account exec will issue the check out of escrow.”
    â€œMs. Powell.” Lawrence took another stack of papers from his file. “Can you explain this?”
    As smoothly as possible, Kate wiped her damp palms on her skirt, then studied the forms passed to her. Her mind went momentarily blank. She blinked, focused, swallowed hard.
    â€œI’m not sure I understand. This is another copy of the 1040 filed for Sunstream, but the tax due amount is different.”
    â€œTwenty-two hundred dollars less,” Amanda pointed out. “This is the form and the payment made on April fifteenth of this year to the IRS. The check drawn out of escrow was for this amount.”
    â€œI don’t understand when or how the other copy was generated,” Kate began. “All work sheets are filed, of course, but any excess forms are shredded.”
    â€œKate.” Bittle drew her attention with one quiet word. “The excess money was transferred via computer out of the client’s escrow account in cash.”
    â€œIn cash,” she repeated, blank.
    â€œSince this came to our attention, we initiated a check on all accounts.” Bittle’s face was grave as he watched her. “Since late March of this year, amounts that total seventy-five thousand dollars have been withdrawn from escrow accounts, seventy-five thousand in excess of tax payments. Computer withdrawals, in cash, from your accounts.”
    â€œFrom my