Kitabı oku: «The Third Twin», sayfa 2
Alexis stared at the money. Once again, fear gripped her. Had her father done something awful in an attempt to make things up to her? She gripped the note, fearing the answer it must contain.
I just learned that the doctor who forged your birth certificate was murdered recently. I did some snooping and learned the awful truth. Your real mother never gave you up for adoption, Alexis. I don’t think she even knew you existed.
How was that possible? This made no sense. She didn’t want to read any more. Her father’s words were tearing her world to shreds. How could he not have told her this?
The doctor had been murdered. Now her father had been murdered. If she wasn’t careful, was she the next in line to be killed?
When I realized what that man had done, I was sick. I think if he hadn’t already been dead I’d have been tempted to murder him myself. How could any man, especially a doctor, have no soul? He pulled you from her body and gave you away with no remorse. It still sickens me to think about it. I’ll carry this horror to my grave. I wonder if God will forgive me for my part in this. I guess I’ll know soon enough. I’ve been lying to you, Alexis, about more than just your birth. I know you thought my drinking was simply grief over Lois’s death. And it did start out that way, but the truth is, I’ve been ill for some time now. I’m dying, Alexis. The cancer is inoperable. I didn’t want you to know. The alcohol helps dull the pain.
Shock blurred the words on the page. She pictured how thin he had grown…and knew the words were true. Why hadn’t he told her? Why had he lied and lied and lied to her?
Grief mingled with anger and guilt. He hadn’t been the best father since her mother…since Lois had died, but what sort of daughter had she been? So angry over his drinking and his refusal to get help, she’d stopped paying much attention to him. For a second her eyes closed in grief and self-recriminations. But she had to finish, to know it all. There’d be time for castigation later.
I’ve been trying to make things right as much as I can, but the truth of your real parentage, well, I can’t give you back those years. Not you or your real family. But I’ve gathered together all the proof you should need to convince them of the truth. The only thing is, the more I learn, the more the situation makes me nervous.
Her real family. She had a real family. Why hadn’t he told her this? How could he have let her go on living every day without telling her?
The nurse who brought you to us was there at the cemetery that day.
What cemetery?
I’m pretty sure she saw me. She isn’t going to want you to come forward, Alexis. It’s the last thing she’ll want. What she and that doctor did wasn’t just horrible, it was illegal. She could go to prison. She should go to prison. She’s as guilty as he is. So you’re going to have to be real careful, Alexis. I figure you’ll need help before you go to see your family. The truth is, I’m not sure what sort of a reception you’ll get from any of them. You’re one of the rightful heirs, you see.
No, she didn’t see. She didn’t understand any of this. It was like a bad movie script. How could this be happening?
This envelope contains all the proof you need to claim your birthright. Take it to Ira Rosencroft. He’s an attorney in upstate New York.
This couldn’t be real. Her father had made some horrible mistake. Horrible enough to get him killed.
The town is small. It’s horse country. Stony Ridge, the town is called. I checked around and from what I could learn, Rosencroft has a reputation for being honest. He’s the trustee for Heartskeep, he’ll help you. He has no choice. Just be careful, Alexis. Don’t trust anyone. I wish there had been time for me to do this the right way, but I think my time is running out. I think someone was watching the house today. Maybe I’m getting paranoid, but I’m scared. Not for me. For you. Show Mr. Rosencroft the contents of this packet, but don’t show him this letter and don’t tell him about the money. Don’t tell anyone about the money until you talk to this Kathy. I think you can trust her, Alexis. If she hadn’t found me, I would never have known this much. You’re the best daughter any man could ever want. I know it’s selfish, but I’m glad you were ours. I only wish you had been ours in every way.
The tears she’d thought were used up fell despite her best effort to keep them at bay. She could barely finish the last two lines.
Please don’t think too badly of me. You will always be the daughter of my heart.
Your loving father,
Brian Fitzpatrick Ryder.
For what seemed like a very long time she simply sat there and cried. She tried to make sense of all this, but nothing made sense. Not this rambling note, not the money in the briefcase, and certainly not her father’s death.
He wasn’t her father.
The world she had known had just dissolved.
A car pulled into the lot, alongside hers. She stuffed the letter back inside the briefcase and snapped it shut. The parking lot had filled with cars and people. A young couple sat arguing in the car parked beside her. They didn’t even glance her way, but she couldn’t afford to sit here in plain sight with a briefcase full of money.
Her engine suddenly sputtered and died. The car had finally run out of gas.
With the care reserved for handling fragile items, she lifted the heavy briefcase and got out of her car. She’d never heard of Stony Ridge, and she had only a New York City map in the glove compartment. She’d have to go inside the restaurant to see if she could buy a map. Then she’d have to get the gas can out of her trunk and go to the gas pump to get enough gas to drive her car over to fill it up. And as she trudged through the busy parking lot, one thought kept running through her mind.
How could a woman not know her child existed?
Chapter Two
Wyatt Crossley didn’t like having time on his hands. He understood why his uncle, as chief of police, had no option other than to place him on leave while the shooting of Nolan Ducort was investigated, but Wyatt didn’t have to like it. Stony Ridge had a major murder investigation under way. His investigation.
Unfortunately the Ducort family was politically well-connected and they were demanding answers. He and the two state police officers who’d fired their weapons two nights ago were being forced to wait until ballistics determined which gun had fired the shot that had struck Ducort and the investigators were satisfied that the shooting had been justified.
The outcome wasn’t in question, really, but the three of them had been relieved of their duties until the panel cleared them of any wrongdoing. Wyatt was determined not to let that keep him from conducting some unofficial investigative work.
The bones discovered on the grounds of Heartskeep almost certainly belonged to Amy Hart Thomas. Everyone believed she’d disappeared in New York City seven years ago—everyone except her identical twin daughters. Now it looked as though the twins had been right all along and sloppy police work—specifically, his uncle’s sloppy police work—had let the murderer go undetected for more than seven years.
Leigh and Hayley Thomas had always insisted that their father, Marcus, had killed their mother. Now that Marcus Thomas was dead, there was only one person left who might have the answers to what had really happened seven years ago.
Wyatt frowned as he thought about Eden Voxx Thomas. The R.N. had worked with Dr. Thomas since before his daughters had been born. The obvious scenario for Amy Thomas’s demise would be a love triangle that had ended in murder. But where the Hart family was involved, Wyatt had learned to keep an open mind. Events were seldom as simple as they appeared on the surface.
He hoped finding Eden would solve a big portion of the mystery. The way she’d taken off and disappeared the moment Amy’s body had been discovered implied some prior knowledge of guilt.
His uncle had turned the investigation over to the state police. Stony Ridge didn’t have the manpower or the equipment to deal with a case of such magnitude. Wyatt was the only officer on the small force with a background in criminal investigations. That was why his uncle had assigned him as liaison to the state police. Their forensic team was slowly exhuming the body’s remains while another team concluded a search of the massive estate for possible evidence. Since Wyatt couldn’t continue his role, he figured he’d do some unauthorized investigating on his own.
Eden had tried to remove everything she could carry from the house after her husband’s death. When Amy’s remains had been discovered in the overgrown maze behind the house, Eden had fled, leaving behind a stack of books. Inside those books had been several blackmail notes.
They now knew Marcus had misappropriated more than six hundred thousand dollars from the Heartskeep estate, yet he had died broke. On the surface it appeared he’d stolen the money to pay blackmail demands. But Wyatt was still leery of the obvious. If the auditors that attorney Gavin Jarret had hired were able to match the blackmail demands to the amounts on the forged bills Marcus had submitted on behalf of the estate, maybe Wyatt would be able to tell if Marcus was the one being blackmailed—or the one doing the blackmailing.
Not for the first time Wyatt wished those notes hadn’t been so ambiguous. Not only didn’t they tell him who was being blackmailed, they didn’t give him a clue as to why that someone was being blackmailed.
Wyatt itched to be back at Heartskeep right now, supervising the search of the enormous mansion instead of driving into town looking for Gavin. But he’d already been reprimanded for going back out to Heartskeep the day after shooting Ducort.
Since the estate was off-limits, he’d driven out to the Walken estate this morning. Being their closest neighbors, and Gavin’s former foster parents, Emily and George Walken had opened their home to the twins and Gavin. Unfortunately, Wyatt had made the trek out there for nothing. Only the Walkens’ housekeeper had been present. Nan had informed him that everyone had left, planning to stay elsewhere until the media frenzy died down.
The day had been a fruitless waste of time so far. With any luck Gavin had gone to his office to supervise the audit. Otherwise, Wyatt was going to find himself twiddling his thumbs most of the afternoon.
Parking was at a premium in town. The only spot open was in front of the remains of the dry-cleaning shop and what had once been Gavin’s rented apartment above. The burned-out shell of a building was a silent reminder of how far a person would go to keep a secret. Wyatt wondered how far Eden would go.
He climbed out of his car into the hot, muggy air and wiped at the beads of sweat that immediately formed on his forehead. June was setting records, both for high temperatures and an unusual number of fierce summer storms. Stony Ridge had been fairly lucky so far. Located far enough north of New York City to sit high over the Hudson River, temperatures were generally milder here and the storms tended to give them more of a glancing blow.
Striding down the street, he exchanged greetings with several people without slowing down. The Hart family and Heartskeep had been a source of conversation for the locals since the day the first Hart had set foot in Stony Ridge. The town already hummed with gossip and speculation about the body and recent events at the estate. Wyatt wasn’t about to add to the fodder.
As he neared the narrow brick building that housed the law offices of Rosencroft and Associates, luck finally beamed a smile his way. Leigh—or Hayley?—Thomas stood on the sidewalk out front clutching an oversize briefcase to her chest.
Having met the twins several times now, he was surprised by an unexpected twist of physical awareness when he first caught sight of her. They were attractive young women, but neither of them had ever sent his pulses leaping in anticipation before. Of course, he’d never really seen one of them alone before. Hayley was rarely without Bram Myers at her side. She’d staked a clear claim on the rugged blacksmith and he seemed perfectly content to be claimed—even if her wealth was still an issue between them.
Wyatt decided this must be Leigh. She and Gavin had seemed pretty tight, and he certainly couldn’t blame his friend. Wyatt was struck by the way her chin-length hair shimmered more gold than brown beneath the unrelenting noon sun. The twins were slender, attractive women with identical heart-shaped faces and delicate bone structures. But exhaustion tugged at her expressive features, bowing the graceful arch of her neck.
He shouldn’t be noticing his buddy’s lady this way, but it was hard not to. She had surprisingly long, graceful legs for such a petite woman. And there was definitely something appealing about the way she stood there in her wilted, bright green-and-white blouse and trim navy skirt. The outfit was hardly provocative, but it did show her figure to good advantage.
She turned away from the building and caught him staring. His chagrin was forgotten when haunted blue eyes regarded him with no trace of recognition. Wyatt took a chance on the name.
“Leigh? Is something wrong?”
A stupid question given the current circumstances. No purse, he noticed, but she clutched the large, scuffed briefcase against her chest. Stained and battered, the case wasn’t the sort of accessory he’d associate with a Hart. He set that thought aside as his attention was drawn back to those wide, crystal-blue eyes. Fatigue mixed with sorrow dulled them—a painful reminder that his “case” was her mother’s death.
Wyatt closed the distance between them. “Is Gavin inside?” He nodded toward the door at her back.
Her forlorn expression changed to one of confusion. Her gaze flicked toward the building and back to his face, sliding away quickly.
“The office is closed.”
Her soft voice came out flat and empty. He barely controlled the impulse that started his hand in the direction of her slim, bare arm.
“Has something else happened?”
A flash of fear came and went so fast he wasn’t positive it was what he’d seen.
“Excuse me,” she said more firmly. “I have to go.”
Her reaction was all wrong. So was her appearance. Where was Gavin? Or her sister, for that matter? Leigh shouldn’t be out here alone. She looked like someone running on empty.
Wyatt blocked her path and nodded at the case. “Are those your grandfather’s files?”
Her knuckles whitened as she hugged the awkward case more tightly to her chest.
“I have to go,” she repeated.
He touched her shoulder, stopping her. She raised startled eyes to his. The tip of her tongue touched her lips. The nervous gesture was not the least bit erotic yet it made him sharply aware of her as a woman.
She took a quick step back. Wyatt let his hand fall to his side. Her wary expression made him frown.
She raised her face. “What is it you want?” she demanded.
Several totally inappropriate answers sprang to mind. What the devil was wrong with him? This was Leigh. He was almost positive it was Leigh. While he barely knew the twins, Hayley’s ability to put a man in his place was legendary.
“I’m not your enemy.”
“Glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Can we talk?”
“Another time. I have to go.”
“Where?”
The question stopped her. For an instant she stared at him in consternation. He would have sworn there was a hint of desperation, even fear, in those expressive eyes. Something was wrong here.
“Let me pass.”
Her voice was still firm.
“I could make the request official.”
Definitely a lick of fear.
“What do you mean?”
His conscience gave a guilty twist. Her vulnerable expression was getting to him. The last thing he wanted was to make her afraid.
“I know we haven’t met under the best of circumstances, but I’m not my uncle, Leigh. I’m on your side.”
She inhaled visibly. Watching her marshal her mental defenses took only a split second, but it revealed quite a bit about her. Leigh would face whatever life tossed at her. He should have known that from the way she’d handled herself when Ducort had threatened to kill her. Still, his admiration went up another notch as she raised her chin another notch and held his gaze.
“What side would that be, exactly?”
Mentally he applauded the challenge. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee and we can discuss it.”
“It’s ninety-eight degrees out here.”
“Good point.” He offered her a wry smile. “How about an iced tea instead?”
“Thanks, but I have to go…home.”
The catch in her voice gave him another glimpse of her vulnerability. Wyatt shook his head. “I’m assuming you don’t mean home to Boston, but if you mean to the Walken estate, I just came from there. Nan said everyone left to avoid the media. They’re still camped out in front of both estates. And if you meant Heartskeep, the state police haven’t finished their investigation yet.”
Panic flared in her expression. While she had plenty of reason to distrust the police, panic made no sense. Yet she looked ready to bolt.
“One drink,” he said gently. “Better yet, what about an ice-cream cone?”
“Ice cream?”
She formed the words as if they were foreign to her. Her eyes skimmed the street—searching for a way to escape? What the devil was going on? He’d take bets it had something to do with her death grip on that case.
This didn’t seem like a good time to remind her of the talk they were supposed to have about the events surrounding her mother’s disappearance.
“Ice cream,” he said calmly. “You know, that frozen stuff that melts on your tongue when you lick it.”
Her eyes widened. He hadn’t meant a sexual connotation, but even to him the words came out sounding that way.
“I can’t.”
“We don’t have to talk, Leigh,” he coaxed gently. “I told you I’d make an appointment for that. I’d just like some company right now. I’m not used to having nothing to do all day.”
She stared at him blankly.
Tempted to explain his temporary suspension, he decided it was better not to remind her of the events of the other night. She’d come far too close to being killed as it was.
“We could drive out to Golden’s, grab a cone and come right back.”
She was shaking her head back and forth even before he finished.
“You could call Gavin and invite him to come with us,” he added.
“No!”
Instant and vehement. So there was some sort of problem between them. A lovers’ spat? He’d never realized his friend was an idiot. Wyatt shouldn’t have liked the fleeting notion that maybe their relationship wasn’t what he’d thought.
“I don’t want to talk to Gavin right now,” she amended quickly. “I’m not… I don’t feel like talking to anyone right now.”
That was pointed enough, but he wasn’t about to let her go when she was so obviously upset.
“Then we won’t talk,” he agreed. “But let’s get out of this sun before we fry.”
She studied his face. Wyatt was relieved when, after a moment’s hesitation, she fell into step beside him. Despite this unexpected jolt of attraction to her, he had no intention of encroaching on his friend’s relationship with Leigh. This was strictly business. He was a cop with a case to solve, and the contents of that briefcase were of major interest to him. He’d keep things light and impersonal. Once he gained her trust, he’d ask her about the case.
Of course, gaining her trust would be the hard part.
ALEXIS WONDERED if she’d taken leave of her senses. Going anywhere with this incredibly handsome stranger was pure folly, yet she’d taken one look into those warm brown eyes and felt an instant connection to this man. The impact had rattled her more than she cared to admit. He wasn’t breathtakingly handsome, but he was the sort of man a woman would always notice.
What on earth had possessed her to let him believe she was someone else?
Because it had seemed the quickest way to get rid of him. Obviously that had been a big mistake on her part. What would he do if she told him she had no idea who Leigh or Gavin were? Or him, either, for that matter?
The thought was dangerously tempting. She was so tired she couldn’t seem to think past her fear and exhaustion. Her father’s note had told her to come here for answers, only there were no answers for her here. Ira Rosencroft was dead.
Alexis had wanted to ask the woman inside how he’d died, but a man had come out of an office to ask a question. Maybe this Gavin person. The receptionist or whoever she’d been had asked the man to wait while she offered Alexis an appointment to see a Mr. Jarret next week.
Alexis declined. Her father’s note had said not to trust anyone except the lawyer and someone named Kathy. But when she had asked the woman if a Kathy worked there, the woman had shaken her head. With the man standing there waiting, Alexis had thanked her and left. Now she didn’t know what to do.
An uneven bit of pavement sent her stumbling. The man beside her had a firm, strong grip as he took her bare arm to keep her from falling. His touch reinforced her vibrant awareness of him. Under other circumstances, she might have welcomed the unexpected reaction. As it was, she wished he’d go away and let her think.
“Easy, there.”
His voice was soothing to nerves that felt stretched far too tight.
“Why don’t you let me carry that case for you?”
Panic lifted her eyes to his. “No!”
Instantly his expression changed. What was the matter with her? She’d overreacted, made him curious. Calling his attention to the briefcase like that had been stupid. He’d already expressed an interest in the contents. If he saw all that money…
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I haven’t had much sleep and my nerves are a little shot right now,” she told him truthfully.
His expression relaxed. Her stomach gave a funny little lurch at the compassion in his eyes.
“I know,” he told her. “It’s okay. Come on. I’m parked right over here.”
There was nothing for it but to resume walking. The kindness in his warm brown eyes was dangerous. Dangerous, because she wanted to trust him. She was so tired. So scared. Grief had vied with fear all night long. She’d taken a room at a motel right off the highway last night and had lain sleeplessly, going over and over her father’s death, wondering what she could have done differently.
The half cup of coffee she’d managed to swallow this morning was still burning a hole in her stomach lining. It was so hard to think.
Her roommate was in California for the week, which meant that no one had yet discovered her father’s body.
Except his killers.
She shouldn’t have run. She should have stayed and called the police. She nearly had called more than once last night. But each time she’d reached for the telephone, fear had stilled her hand. The police would have questions. Alexis didn’t have answers.
She’d thought if she talked to this Mr. Rosencroft first, everything would make sense. But if he was dead, too, she didn’t know where to go next. Had he been murdered, as well?
Her father had said his killers would come after her next. He’d been right. But who were they? What was she supposed to do with all this money?
Her companion stopped at a car parked in front of a fire-gutted building. Alexis had noticed the burned-out remains earlier on her way into town. He opened the passenger door of the trim black sedan and began stacking several files sitting on the seat.
This was insane. What was she doing, getting in a car with a total stranger? Only a fool would do something so stupid. She wasn’t a stupid person. Yet she had no desire to turn and run in the opposite direction.
He cleared the passenger seat of papers and folders, dumping everything on the back seat, which was already littered with other items.
“Sorry. I’m afraid I’ve been using the car as something of a spare closet.”
His embarrassment was sort of reassuring. Tall and lean, with a thick head of dark, curling hair, he had an easygoing manner that offered her frazzled nerves a false sense of security. There was confidence and a sense of strength about him. More important, he knew things. Things she desperately needed to know.
Who was Leigh? Undoubtedly related to her if they looked enough alike to be mistaken for one another. Stony Ridge did have answers after all. So did this man. All she had to do was to ask the right questions.
Alexis hesitated, debating her options. She glanced at the building behind her. A smoky scent lingered in the heavy, humid air. The fire must have burned hot and furious, because the insides had been destroyed with savage completeness.
“You and Gavin were lucky the other night,” he said in a hard tone of voice. “If you’d been upstairs when that gas line blew…”
Upstairs? She raised her eyes and realized there had been living quarters above the shop. The thought that anyone might have been inside was horrifying.
“You want to toss your briefcase back here?” he asked, dismissing both the fire and the building.
Should she go with him or stay here?
He waited calmly, as if he sensed her indecision. There was nothing remotely threatening in his manner. She liked that he was giving her time to decide. But when it came right down to it, she had nowhere else to go.
Alexis handed him the heavy case. He set it on the back seat without a word about its weight and stepped back, holding the door open for her.
The car was low. Her skirt scooted up her thigh as she sat. She felt his stare as she struggled to pull it into place. If his expression had been the least bit lecherous, she’d have been out of the car instantly, but his gaze held only a masculine appreciation she might have enjoyed if things had been different.
Watching him stride around to the driver’s side, Alexis had all sorts of time for second and third thoughts. Going anywhere with this vibrant stranger was a really stupid thing to do. He thought she was someone named Leigh. How long could she maintain the pretense before he saw through the sham? She wasn’t up to this. Heck, she didn’t even know who she was anymore.
He offered her a smile as he slid behind the wheel. Her clenched muscles began to relax. The man had a breathtaking smile.
“I’m afraid it’ll take a second or two for the air conditioner to put out anything like cool air. Jezzy here isn’t up to dealing with this sort of heat.”
“You named your car?”
His grin widened unselfconsciously. “Blame it on my mother. She and my sisters always named our cars. I guess I picked up the habit.”
There was something rather endearing about that, which was ridiculous. So what if the man had a mother and sisters? Even serial killers had family.
“Jezzy?” she asked nervously.
“Short for Jezebelle. You’ll notice the faded leather seats and all the fancy dashboard equipment. At one time this girl was loaded with all the extras, flashy and pretentious for such a cheaply made little car. When I found her on the used car lot, she reminded me of an abandoned harlot, past her prime but determined to make the best of what she still had.”
“Oh.”
He chuckled, a warm rumbly sound that was as oddly soothing as the man himself.
“Don’t worry about it. My family thinks I’m a little nuts, too, but it isn’t contagious.”
“Too bad.”
He tilted his head. Alexis squirmed. “I just meant that it’s a nice sort of nuts to be.” That grin of his was dangerously disarming.
“Thanks.”
Alexis looked away quickly. The man gave a whole other meaning to the words “perfect stranger.” She was suddenly all too aware of how rumpled she looked. She’d done the best she could this morning considering she’d had no fresh clothing and only the contents of her purse to work with. She’d only wanted to look presentable when she spoke with the lawyer. Now she wished she’d taken the time to stop and buy a clean outfit. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment, but she’d noticed a dress shop in town. She’d go there as soon as they returned. Hopefully the prices wouldn’t be too outrageous. Her bank account was a little slim these days.
With a start, she realized he’d spoken to her again. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I just said you look tired.”
“I am tired.” A gross understatement. Alexis closed her eyes in despair.
“It’s going to be okay, Leigh.”
Her eyes flew open. Who was Leigh? Cousin? Sister? Aunt?
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude—”
“You aren’t being rude. You’re tired. You’ve been through a lot in the past few days.”
Startled, she inhaled sharply. How did he know?
Puzzled concern creased his forehead. He didn’t know, she realized. He’d meant this Leigh person had been through a lot in the past few days. He’d said the woman could have been inside the burned-out shell of that building back in town. It was simply an unnerving coincidence that this Leigh person had been through an ordeal, as well.
“Hey, how does a milk shake sound? Chocolate? Vanilla? One of the more exotics?”
A milk shake? Somehow she couldn’t get her mind to focus on something so mundane. She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be able to swallow a single sip anyhow.
“Surprise me.”
“Okay, but I like the exotics, myself. Some of those candy-flavored ones are dangerously addictive, you know.”
It was impossible not to return that smile, even if hers felt weak and distant. She suspected candy-flavored milk shakes weren’t the only things potentially addictive around here. Why couldn’t someone like this have been her roommate’s cousin instead of Seth?
Golden’s Ice Cream turned out to be a drive-up place in the middle of nowhere. Yet, judging from the number of cars clustered around the parking lot, being in the middle of nowhere wasn’t a drawback. A scattering of picnic tables sat in a grove of trees off to one side and all of them held people.
