Sweet Fortune

he wants more than anything else in the world, isn't it?”
    Jessie nodded with great certainty. “It's the right thing for him, Aunt Glenna. I can feel it in my bones. David was made for the academic world.”
    “I hope you're right.” Glenna carefully put the pen down on her desk, aligning it neatly with her clipboard. “I had rather thought for a while that he would eventually join Benedict Fasteners.”
    “That was never a viable option for David, and you must know that as well as I do.”
    “Vincent did try to encourage him.”
    “We all know Dad was desperate for a son, and for a while he thought he could ram David into the mold. But I saw right off it would never work and I told him to stop trying to force the issue. It was hopeless.”
    “David was certainly very grateful to you for getting him off the hook with his uncle. He's always been somewhat in awe of Vincent. I think he might have tried to make the situation at Benedict work out if you hadn't stepped in.”
    “Hey, rescuing him from Dad's clutches was the least I could do.”
    “Yes, you're definitely the little Miss Fix-It of the Benedict clan, aren't you? Everyone in the family turns to you when someone is needed to intercede with Vincent.”
    Jessie's smile faded. She eyed her aunt thoughtfully. “You know as well as I do that David would have hated the corporate world. He would have been especially unhappy working for my father. David has spent enough of his life trying to please Dad and he feels he's never succeeded. He deserves a chance to pursue his own goals.”
    “Only time will tell if you're right, won't it?”

    Jessie's intercom rang at seven-thirty the following evening. She paused on the verge of tossing an entire pound of cheese ravioli into a pot of boiling water. With a groan she wiped her hands on a dish towel and went to answer the summons.
    “It's me,” Hatch announced over the speaker. He sounded bone-tired.
    Jessie froze in front of the speaker. “What do you want?”
    “Let me in and I'll tell you.”
    She frowned. “Have you been drinking, Hatch?”
    “No. Working.”
    “Figures. What are you doing here?”
    “I just left Benedict for the day. Haven't had dinner yet. What about you?”
    “I was just about to eat.”
    “Good,” said Hatch. “I'll join you.”
    Jessie could not think of a reasonable excuse not to open the downstairs door. Then again, she chided herself, maybe she was just not trying hard enough. Something in Hatch's weary voice was sparking a decidedly dangerous flare of womanly sympathy. She tried to squelch the sensation. The last thing she could afford to risk was to go all nurturing and empathic toward a shark like Hatch.
    She punched the lock release, wondering if she was doing the right thing.
    Three minutes later Jessie heard footsteps out in the hall. The apartment doorbell chimed. She answered it with a sense of reluctant anticipation.
    Outside in the corridor she found Hatch leaning negligently against the wall, expensive suit jacket slung over one shoulder. He looked exhausted. His dark hair was tousled as if he had been running his fingers through it and his subdued gray-and-maroon-striped tie had been loosened with a careless hand. His eyes gleamed as he looked down at her.
    “Seriously, Hatch,” Jessie said, holding the door open cautiously, “what do you want?”
    “Seriously, Jessie,” he retorted, not moving away from the wall, “what I want is to find out what it would take to get you to send me flowers.”
    She blinked and groped swiftly for a way to hide her startled confusion. “Well, for starters, you could make yourself useful to Valentine Consultations.”
    “Yeah? How?”
    “Tell me how to go about investigating a cult. I've been reading like crazy for the past day and a half, but I'm getting nowhere fast.”
    “Hell. Are you still on that stupid Attwood case? I was afraid of that.”
    “If that's the best you can do, good night.” She started to close the door in his face.
    “Follow the money,” Hatch said wearily.
    “What?”
    “Follow the money trail. It takes money to finance something like a cult, just like any other business. Find out how the cash comes into the organization and where it goes. Once you know that, you'll know everything.”
    Jessie stared at him, astounded. “Hatch, that's brilliant . Absolutely brilliant. Why didn't I think of that? Come on in, pour yourself a drink, sit down, and make yourself at home. We have got to have a