Crime & Passion 3: A Fraudulent Encounter

Natasha looked beyond her computer screen to the dingy sky framed by her office window. She snatched her cell phone off her desk and checked her weather app. Disappointment sifted through her at the sight of the forecasted snowfall. Six inches was predicted, starting within the hour and stopping around nine o’clock tonight. Just the right timing to prevent her from driving to Green Bay for her weekly counseling. She hated missing a session. They were what got her through life.

She sighed. Nearly most of her travel would be on the highway, which meant the road would likely be well plowed, and her small SUV could surely make it through a few inches of snow all right. But they were also calling for high winds, which meant there could be some drifting and icy road conditions. That, she wasn’t so comfortable with. Especially with the vehicle trouble she encountered the prior week. The dealership fixed her car under warranty, but the last thing she needed was to either break down again or slide into the ditch on a cold, blustery night.

Dang it. She really wanted—~needed~—to go tonight. Since her encounter with Dax last Monday night, she’d been in a frenzy. She went from being embarrassed and ashamed about where she was and what she was doing when he accidentally walked into her group session, to being even more embarrassed when he had to rescue her on the highway. The last thing she needed was for another man to think she couldn’t take care of her own business and survive on her own. The way he just waltzed in and took control, insisting he wait with her for the wrecker and then drive her home irritated her, and then when she’d been too stupid to even know which key on her keychain was her house key—well, him getting it right on the first shot was just too much. She ~would~ have been fine all around. She would have found a ride home and gotten into her ~own~ home.

She set her cell phone down and focused her attention on her hand. Heat rose in her face as she recalled the memory of her fingers touching Dax’s large hand when he’d scooped her keys off the frosty cement. The spark of electricity that had shot through her veins at that moment almost knocked her off her feet.

Her heart raced. The last thing she needed right now was to have to ward off these unwanted feelings. From experience, she knew nothing good could come from this. Yeah, she was lonely and a new love might be nice for a while, but surely it would end in disappointment.

Through the window, she studied the big fat snowflakes. Figures. Of all days the weather had to be uncooperative, it had to be today.

The desk phone rang, and she glanced at the display to find Administrator Johnston’s name flashing across the screen.

She hit the speaker button.

“Hi, Clayton.”

“Hey, Natasha. I’m sorry, but I forgot to tell you about the closing we scheduled today for the property on Egg Harbor Rd. You know the one. Anyhow, we’re going to need Jean to cut the check by two.”

Crap, Jean was off today, and Terri was busy with payroll.

“Jean’s off, but I’ll get it done.” She should have just said yes because she was sure Clayton didn’t care who cut the check as long as it got done.

“Great. Thanks,” her boss replied and disconnected the call.

Natasha thought for a moment. It had been a while since she’d had to cut a manual check herself, so she had to think about the process. Perfect time to test her accounts payable clerk’s procedure manual and ensure it was up-to-date.

She rose from her chair and headed down the long hall to the front office where her accounting staff sat, as it was part of their job functions to also act as the frontline customer service representatives. Terri was seated in her cubicle, pecking away at her keyboard. She looked up, smiled, then returned her gaze to her monitor. Natasha slipped behind Jean’s desk and pulled the big, black binder marked with the words ‘Procedure Manual’ on the spine from the shelf, set it on top of the papers spewed on the desk, and flipped it open to the section marked ‘Manual Checks.’ As she read through the short section, the procedure refreshed in her mind. It was a pretty simple process and well set out in the manual, but she wanted to make sure she had it set in her mind before she began.

She put the binder back in its spot and turned to leave when she noticed a sticky note on the desk that Jean had written to herself reminding her to enter vendor information into the system for Gladstern Supplies.

Gladstern Supplies. ~Hmm.~

Natasha was sure that vendor was already in the system. A well-used vendor at that. Especially since COVID hit, thereby needing far more than normal personal protective equipment. Though they’d gotten past the peak of the pandemic, the variants sparked things up again and PPE orders were on the rise. Anyhow, she’d be sure to talk to Jean about this when she returned to work tomorrow just to make sure she didn’t enter the same vendor into the financial system twice. Surely, Jean would be knocking on her door anyway, because according to their accounting procedures, she was supposed to sign off on any new vendors.

She eyed up the note again and sighed, who was she kidding, she’d have to initiate this conversation tomorrow because half the time Jean forgot to take this step. No matter how many times she reminded the woman to do this, it seemed to go in one ear and out the other. In the woman’s defense though, this was a fairly new procedure created as a direct result of an automated clearing house scam that took place in a nearby community recently. She made a mental note to talk to her subordinate about this.

Natasha grabbed a check from the box in the vault, recorded the number on the log, and went back to her office to cut the check. Once it was printed, she headed back to the vault to use the signature stamp. It wasn’t in its usual spot. She looked on the shelf above and below where it was supposed to be.

Her pulse kicked up a notch. That signature stamp was never to leave the vault. Her staff was well aware of that rule. They’d been trained and had heard the horror story about a nearby township that was scammed out of forty thousand dollars because one of their elected treasurers didn’t secure the signature stamp and check stock. Every municipality’s nightmare.

The irritation in her steps didn’t go unnoticed when she stomped up to Terri’s desk.

The woman’s brown gaze showed a bit of apprehension. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she twirled a small cluster of frosty-tipped strands of hair around her finger. This was a common antic for her payroll clerk when she was nervous.

“I’m looking for the signature stamp. Do you have it? It’s not in the vault.”

“No. I stamp the payroll liability checks in the vault. I never take it out.”

“Okay,” Natasha replied before she stepped over to Jean’s desk to see if the missing stamper was there. Sure enough, after a few seconds, she located it under a stack of strewn papers.

She blew out an exaggerated sigh.

“Take it you found it,” Terri’s voice sounded from over the top of the shared cubicle wall.

“Sure did.” She stepped out from behind the accounts payable clerk’s desk and held out the stamp as proof.

The payroll clerk’s gaze landed on the floor. “I don’t know why she does that. It only takes a few minutes to stamp the checks in the vault. There’s no purpose to come out here to do it.”

Natasha nodded. “I know we probably don’t have a reason to worry here—we’ve all been working here forever and have never had a problem—but you never know who could get their hands on it when it’s exposed like this. I’m going to put it back.”

The last thing she needed was for fraudulent activity to take place on her watch.

Dax’s phone rang, and he glanced at the display. Green Bay Police Department. He snatched up the phone receiver. “Chief Mertz, how can I help you?” That was his standard phone greeting whether or not he knew the caller.

“Hey. Dax, it’s Mike.”

Mike Branson had been appointed to Assistant Chief after Dax left the position to take the Chief’s position in Sturgeon Bay. He worked with Mike for a handful of years, and he was a great guy, perfect for the position. Mike was also the investigator who was in charge of Dax’s wife’s murder case. They talked on occasion, but Dax already knew from the man’s grim tone that this was not a social call.

“Hi, Mike. What’s up?”

His friend’s long intake of breath made him nervous, but he waited him out.

“We nabbed Lucinda Brown last night.”

Dax’s heart lurched into his throat. Sweat beaded on his temples, and his pulse pounded.

Lucinda had been the driver of the car that ambushed him and his wife four years ago. The vile woman’s boyfriend, Byron Tucker, and his buddy Alvin were the drug-dealing thugs that opened fire on his and Jillian’s vehicle, killing her. Though Byron and Alvin had been arrested the night of the incident and imprisoned ever since, Lucinda had somehow avoided capture for four years.

Dax swallowed hard and closed his eyes. The incident passed through his mind, the pain piercing his heart as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

He and Jillian had been on a long, overdue date night. They’d already eaten dinner at her favorite Italian restaurant and were headed to the movie theater. Earlier that day, the ultrasound revealed they were going to have a boy. After more than a decade of trying to have a baby, they’d resolved themselves to the fact it wasn’t going to happen, and because they were in their early forties they’d decided to stop trying, and opt for adopting a young child. They’d been working their way through the process, when, out of the blue, it happened. Jillian became pregnant, and he couldn’t have been more excited.

He had taken his eyes off the road for the briefest of moments to sneak a peek at his beautiful wife. She gazed at him, her smile reaching her eyes.

The second he’d returned his gaze to the road, he’d recognized the dark sedan in the lane next to him and he’d realized his mistake. The sedan veered in front of him, cutting him off. The passenger windows were open. Occupants wearing ski masks leaned out of the car and fired at them.

Glass exploded. Pain had ripped through his shoulder. He’d slammed on the brakes, and his vehicle had skidded to a halt. It was when he’d reached for his weapon that he’d realized his dominant arm was useless. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d caught a glimpse of a large-bodied individual coming toward his vehicle, a gun in his hand. Fear had gripped his spine. Needing to get out of harm’s way, he’d pressed the accelerator. More shots rang out. He’d clipped the front of the sedan as he sped by. With his gaze on the incident, trying to absorb as many identifying details as possible, he’d called out to Jillian. No response. He’d glanced at her and had wanted to reach out and touch her, but one of his arms was useless, and the other was needed to steer the vehicle. He’d pushed harder on the accelerator and sped to the nearest hospital only six blocks away, but it was too late. His wife’s lifeless body slumped in the passenger seat. His unborn son was gone, too.

“Dax?”

He flinched at the sound of his name and inhaled, then rubbed his nose with his fingers to wipe away the fresh stench of blood stinging his nostrils as if the incident had just occurred.

He cleared his throat. “I’m here. Where? How?” was all he could muster.

“She stupidly returned home to visit her dying mother and was picked up on a traffic violation. Her brother was in the car with her. They tried to flee but got T-boned by a truck at the next intersection.”

“Are the occupants from the truck okay?”

“Yeah. Only Lucinda required transport to the hospital. She’ll be fine. Probably get released today and brought to the county jail.”

Dax’s heart raced. Four long years he’d waited for this. He’d thought he’d be thrilled when they finally nabbed Lucinda. It had been so long that he’d given up hope. But now, he wasn’t sure how to feel as the horrific memory of that night—his wife’s death—rushed back to him in full force.

Every horrible little detail played through his mind. He glanced at his prickling hand half-expecting to see it covered in blood, his wife’s blood, as it had been on that night. His chest squeezed as if belted at the memory of the baby his wife carried—the son he never got to meet.

He swallowed hard. Lucinda and her piece of shit boyfriend, and his buddy, took that—took everything away from him in one split moment. Byron and Alvin were in prison, each serving life plus twenty. Lucinda slipped away, but now she too, would soon be in prison, but none of that would bring Jillian and his baby back.

The old, familiar mind-spiraling sensation he’d worked so hard to control over the past four years was back.

“Dax, you still there?”

He drew in a breath. “Yeah, I’m still here.”

“I just thought you’d want to know. Prepare yourself for what’s to come.”

He knew what Mike referred to. He’d be testifying in court…again. Reopening old wounds. Reliving the most horrific moment of his life. And still, in the end, his wife and child would be gone forever. He did take some comfort in knowing his testimony would ensure Lucinda would spend a decent amount of time in prison, locked away, separated from the general public, caged like the animal she was.

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate the call.”

Dax hung up the phone receiver, propped his elbows on his desk, and buried his face in the palms of his hands as he worked to erase the horrific vision of his wife and unborn child’s deaths from his memory. His heart pulsed hard as if his blood thickened to the consistency of peanut butter.

A knock sounded on his door. As he lifted his head, he simultaneously attempted to erase the raw emotion he assumed coveted his face. The feat took more strength and determination than he’d expected. But, he forged on knowing the last thing he needed was to look weak and vulnerable to whoever stood in his doorway.

Natasha met Dax’s gaze the second he opened his eyes.

The welcoming, bright flecks of green normally present in those amber irises of his, were not noticeable now. Instead, his eyes were darker, haunted. Worry lines creased his forehead. He stared at her until an uncomfortable and unbearable silence filled the room. His chest inflated with slow, deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He squeezed his eyes closed and then reopened them as he pressed his fingertips to his temples. “Just a headache.” Exhaustion laced his tone.

“Need some pain reliever?”

“No, I have some. Thanks.”

He took in another long breath and let it out slowly. She’d bet her last dollar a headache wasn’t his real issue. But he was a private man and likely he wouldn’t share any of his problems or issues with coworkers, so she’d just leave it be and stick to the task at hand. Refocusing on his troubled gaze had her wishing she’d just called him, rather than come to his office. In hindsight, she realized she could have done that, but getting up from her chair and walking around a bit throughout the day helped to loosen her tight muscles.

She stepped farther into his tidy office, stretching her arm out to hand him the fixed asset form he’d filled out for the purchase of the gun cleaning station. “Is this the final amount for the gun cleaning station or is there another invoice coming? I ask because it’s a bit under the budgeted figure.”

He took the sheet of paper and studied it. His eye twitched, and his fingers shook slightly as he held it. Odd, for the man of steel he normally was. What had gotten to him?

“Yes, this is the final. I went with a bit of a different configuration than I originally planned,” he said as he handed the form back to her.

“Thanks. I just needed to know for sure,” she replied as she looked past him, out the window at the heavily falling snow.

Stupid snow. She resolved herself to the fact she wouldn’t be able to drive to Green Bay tonight to meet with her counseling group.

Dax cleared his throat, drawing her attention.

She met his wearied gaze.

“You can ride with me if you want,” he blurted.

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re eyeing up the weather, debating whether or not you’re going tonight.” He peered out the window and then brought his gaze back to her. “The forecast is calling for close to eight inches of snow now. They just upped it.”

It didn’t surprise her that he’d practically read her thoughts—expression. After all, he was a trained observer. Still, his offer of a ride caught her a bit off-guard. They hadn’t spoken at all of their encounter from the week before. Once he’d dropped her off at her home, the topic of counseling had closed, until now. Neither of them had shared why they sought counseling, and that suited her just fine. She suspected he was good with that as well.

“Yeah, that’s what I heard. You’re still going to go?” she asked, a bit surprised he’d risk it. He did have a truck, but it wasn’t like counseling was an emergency, though sometimes it felt like it.

“I was still debating. But the drive is almost all on the highway, and the storm is projected to span several hours so the plows should keep up.”

He glanced to the window and back again. Flecks of green sparked in his amber gaze now.

Her breath caught, and her heart skipped a beat. He needed to stop looking at her like he was. Nothing good could come from the desire spiraling in her. Yep, she definitely needed to meet with her group tonight.

Stay strong, she reminded herself. Those good-looking men, they’re all cut from the same cloth. It just so happened her ex coined the pattern. Okay, so maybe she was being a bit harsh to the handful of men that were probably worth taking a risk, but until she could get past her heartache and embarrassment of what her ex did to her, she needed to ward off romantic relationships. At least that’s what some of the women in her group who’d been down this same path advised.

“Just let me know what you want to do,” Dax said.

His low voice snapped her out of her internal thoughts.

She definitely wanted to go, and her best means to get there was the very reason she needed to go. How ironic.

“Okay.” She spun on her heel so fast that she almost tripped but managed to regain her footing.

Natasha returned to her office on the opposite side of the building from the police department. Using the information Dax had given her, she finished up the fixed asset report.

Knowing the entire annual city budget, she knew no other fixed assets would be purchased before the end of the year, so this file was now ready for the auditors. She smiled—at least one thing was checked off her annual audit checklist. Tomorrow, she’d finish up the infrastructure report for the auditors so she wouldn’t have to worry about falling too far behind while on her upcoming, long overdue vacation.

Vacation. She liked the sound of that. Only three more days until a week of fun in the sun. Her last one was four years ago. She and her cheater ex went to an adult-only, all-inclusive resort in Mexico with two other couples. She should have known then that he’d cheated on her. They’d been in the most romantic of settings and he’d hardly spent any alone time with her. Didn’t even make love at all on the trip. It was shortly after they returned home that she’d discovered why. He hadn’t wanted to cheat on his new love interest with her—his wife.

Asshole.

She snatched up the phone receiver and dialed Dax’s extension.

“Chief Mertz, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Chief. It’s Natasha. I’d like to take you up on your offer for a ride tonight.”

“Okay. Due to the weather, let’s leave a bit early. Say, five-fifteen? Will that give you enough time?”

She knew what he meant. Enough time to scoot home, change, and grab a quick bite to eat. It was only fifteen minutes earlier than when she normally left on a good weather day.

“Yes, sounds good.”

She hung up the phone and glanced at the clock—it was already after four o’clock.

There was one more thing she wanted to check on for the day to hopefully wrap up before she left for her vacation. She grabbed the phone receiver and dialed Terri’s extension.

“Hey, Natasha.”

“Where are you at with the November bank reconciliation?”

A long pause ensued. “Sorry, with all the special pay types for the police and fire unions during the first week of December, it put me behind. I just wasn’t able to get to it yet.”

She knew what her payroll clerk referred to, but these weren’t new to her and were usually submitted to her in balance form by the administrative staff for those departments, so it was just a matter of keying them and adjusting for a few procedural nuances. Plus, Terri knew she was eager to close the November books before she left for vacation. She asked very little of her staff. Why couldn’t they just go the extra mile when need be?

“Please make that your priority tomorrow morning so I can get November wrapped up before I go.”

“Okay.”

Natasha shut down her computer, flung on her jacket, and raced out the door. In less than five minutes she was home. She changed out of her long, fitted sweater dress and into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then eyed herself in the mirror as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. After further review, she yanked the sweatshirt over her head and slipped into a maroon-striped, boat neck sweater.

Should she wear stripes? Were they flattering, or not? She shook her head. Why do I care?

A vision of Dax’s long, lean frame came to mind. Oh God, she didn’t need this right now. She should call him to let him know she wouldn’t be going tonight. Instead, she smoothed out her sweater with her palms, let down her hair, and tamed it with her fingers.

She raced to the refrigerator, pulled out the container of chicken noodle soup, and put it in the microwave. She’d barely finished when she caught a glimpse through the living room window of Dax pulling up to the curb.

His solid knock sounded on her front door before she was able to slip out.

“You didn’t have to come to the door,” she said.

“My mom would be angry if she found out I didn’t,” he teased, then smiled warmly.

A joke from the man was unusual. But then, she didn’t really know him on a personal level. Maybe that persona was much different than that of his work one.

She followed him to his truck where he opened the door for her.

He must have read her expression. “Again, my mom.”

Natasha laughed as she pictured a tiny, old woman giving her son the business. Not any son though, a tough police chief. “She raised you right.”

He smiled and nodded.

She climbed in and he shut the door. He scooted around the front of the vehicle, to the side, and slid into the driver’s seat.

A couple of inches of snow had already accumulated, and the wind had started to pick up. Between the snow and the fact it was dark already, she knew she’d made the right choice not to drive herself.

Dax drove the few blocks to the highway and pulled onto it with ease. She’d already be white-knuckling the steering wheel. She was such a wimp when it came to driving on snow and ice.

Though thankful she didn’t have to drive in the inclement weather, her discomfort level still bordered on high. It appeared she no longer knew how to talk or act in the company of a man. Evidently, the way she’d done it in the past didn’t work. Her ex proved that. She had to remind herself Dax was just a man she worked with and nothing more.

Yet, then, why did her stomach flutter when she’d met his gaze at her front door. She pulled her light gloves from her hot hands and placed both on her lap.

“Are you too warm?” Dax asked as he reached over to adjust the heater.

She was, but she was also becoming quite aware that it probably wasn’t the heater that caused the temperature to rise in her body. One more hint of his warm, sultry, leathery scent, and she’d probably have to remove her jacket, too.

“Yeah, thanks,” she muttered.

“So, you are going on vacation,” Dax stated.

How on earth did he know that? Office gossip most likely.

“Yes. My sister and I, and a couple of her friends, are going to Florida.”

“That’ll be nice.”

“I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t taken a vacation in a while.”

“Me either,” he commented.

“Work, work, work, right?”

He nodded slightly. “That’s part of it.”

Did she dare ask what the other part was? The words were on the tip of her tongue when she’d caught them. Remembering he was a widower, she thought maybe that could be the other part, and the last thing she wanted to do was dredge up any bad memories for him.

She heard him swallow audibly. With a glance in his direction, she watched him as he stared forward out the windshield.

“My wife and I used to take annual vacations. But we…I haven’t since she’s been gone.”

The last of his words faded to almost a whisper. Her heart ached for him, and she wasn’t sure how to respond or even if he wanted her to.

Dax’s pulse raced. He couldn’t believe he’d just said those words to Natasha. He rarely spoke of Jillian outside of his grief group. Especially to coworkers. The last thing he needed was for the people he worked with to think he was weak or broken. Not in his line of work. He needed to stay strong—in control. People counted on him. That’s what they expected of him. The air drained from his lungs. Even though a couple of his coworkers knew his story, the last thing he needed everyone to know was the fact he’d been unable to save his wife and unborn child.

He could feel Natasha’s burning gaze on him but couldn’t bring himself to look in her direction. Thank God it was dark, or she’d probably see the pain and vulnerability in the expression he was sure he wore. The one he worked hard to erase from his face most days.

The light touch of his passenger’s hand pressed to his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Dax.”

He nodded and sighed. “Thanks. It’s been a while.”

“Still.”

He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah.”

She reined her arm back, and he found himself disappointed at the loss of the soothing warmth.

What felt like guilt shoved his grief aside. The sensation alarmed him. Why guilt? He risked a glance at the woman in the passenger seat. His pulse picked up pace again. He was attracted to her.

Since the day he’d met Jillian, he’d never been attracted to another woman. Ever. Jillian had been gone for almost four years, and nothing, until now. The question was…why did he feel guilty about it? Especially after all this time.

He glanced at Natasha who stared out the windshield. She couldn’t be more different than his late wife.

Jillian had been petite, barely over five feet tall, with short black hair and the darkest eyes he’d ever seen, her irises almost black. He’d lost himself in the depth of her warm, dark gaze more often than not. Also, a complete extrovert.

Conversely, Natasha had long, dark brown hair highlighted with red and blonde. Her bright emerald irises sparkled with mystery, intriguing him. She was of medium build and about five and one-half feet tall. Most days the woman wore her hair pulled back, allowing a better glimpse of her big round eyes and pale skin tone. A complete introvert.

The one thing the two women had in common was that scent of vanilla that drove him crazy.

He risked another glance at the lovely woman in the passenger seat before he flipped on his blinker, and pulled off the highway. In under a minute, he’d parked and Natasha kept pace with him as he walked toward the front door of the counseling center building.

The second he stepped through the doorway, he felt as if all gazes were on him. Like a coward, he immediately stepped away from Natasha. If that didn’t look guilty as sin, he didn’t know what would.

Jed and Pete bounced their gazes between him and Natasha, then stared at him curiously. Why wouldn’t they? The men were law enforcement, trained observers, and the quick movement he just displayed probably looked like he was hiding something.

Jed lifted his coffee mug to his lips. The man’s smile behind the cup reached his eyes.

“Dax,” Pete said with a knowing nod.

He risked a glance in Natasha’s direction but she was no longer there.

“Hey, Pete. Jed. How goes it?” he asked as he spun to head to his room. The men followed.

Though he had full intention of sharing with the group tonight, even drove down in a snowstorm to do so, the second the group session started his jaw clamped down and every muscle in his body clenched. Full-on shutdown mode. Just like the days—months—years, that followed Jillian’s murder. That call from Assistant Chief Branson had set him on a course right back to the day of his wife’s death.

All the raw feels were back.

He sat still and quietly as his group members shared. Though their voices echoed in his head, he probably couldn’t repeat a word they’d said. All he could think about was Jillian and his conversation with Branson…and Natasha. This had to be the longest session ever.

Pete nudged him. “You okay? We’re done.”

Dax snapped to attention.

His entire body ached from having sat so long so tensely.

“Dax?” Mac called after him.

Knowing the guy knew, he fought the urge to turn around to face the counselor, still, he spun slowly.

The man’s concerned, steel gray gaze clamped onto his. “Are you okay?”

Dax closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “Not really.”

“I have some time right now, do you want to talk about it?”

Holy hell, he must look pretty awful that Mac offered a session with him now. He’d met with the man one-on-one before, a while back, and found it helped. His chest constricted. He needed it—the relief of unburdening himself more than anything tonight—but remembering Natasha had ridden with him, he couldn’t.

“I can’t tonight?”

Mac nodded. “Later this week then?”

“Yeah. I’ll call tomorrow and make an appointment.”

The counselor nodded again.

Dax exited the room. The lobby was already empty except for Natasha waiting for him by the tall, brightly lit Christmas tree near the two-story wall of windows. The white lights from the tree reflecting on the glass created a halo-like effect around her, brightening the red highlights in her long hair. But it was her sparkling emerald gaze that ratcheted up his pulse.

He should have taken Mac up on his offer, but it was too late now.