Читать книгу The Hidden Heir - Debra Webb - Страница 9

Thank God the sun had started to set. Still, it was damned hot.

Keith sat in a car outside the Orrick family home in a small farming community less than an hour outside South Bend. The modest home sat amid several hundred acres of farmland that had slowly been sold off over the past ten years. Newer homes had popped up on most of the parcels sold, leaving the Orrick home a lonely relic of the past separated by scarcely ten acres from the new, bigger and better models.

A thorough background search had shown that Ashley Orrick’s mother, Mary, lived alone since her husband’s death fifteen years ago and her daughter’s departure for college shortly after that. He’d checked the land line records associated with the address and saw that no calls had come from outside the local calling area. According to Keith’s research, Mrs. Orrick did not own a cellular phone, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have one. Ben had equipped Keith for that scenario.

Keith had considered at length his limited options on how to approach the older woman and decided that an extreme cover story was necessary. Outright lying wasn’t one of his favorite tactics, but under the circumstances it was, unfortunately, necessary. No way would the mother willingly give up her daughter’s location. He felt certain she wouldn’t even talk to him unless he gave her a hell of an excuse.

Technically, he wasn’t outright lying, but it felt entirely too much like deceit to sit right with his conscience. The offer was legitimate; it just somehow felt wrong. Maybe it was because Keith suspected Van Valkenberg would take legal action to ensure Ashley Orrick didn’t elude him again quicker than she could cash the check for back child support.

On the other side of the coin was Desmond Van Valkenberg. He had a right to know his son. Ashley Orrick had taken that right from him ten years ago. She’d used a number of means of deceit, including taking on one or more identities to do so. Keith shouldn’t feel guilty…but he did.

Shoving aside the undermining emotion, he emerged from his car and reached into the back seat for his briefcase. At least he would learn one thing about Miss Ashley Orrick at the end of this exercise: her price.

If she were a gold digger as Brody claimed, she would have a price. In Keith’s opinion, she certainly hadn’t behaved like someone out for the money, but he would reserve judgment until he had all the facts.

He walked up the dusty sidewalk. July’s lack of rain ensured dying grass and rising utility costs if one wanted to stay cool. Though Mrs. Mary Orrick’s home didn’t have the convenience of central air-conditioning, an individual unit droned monotonously in a window on the side of the house. A steady drizzle of water dripped from its rusty housing. Even with the sun dropping behind the trees in the distance, he already missed the cool air that had been circulating in his vehicle.

The shade on the porch provided some relief as he knocked on the screen door. He couldn’t hear any sounds inside over the buzz of the air conditioner. An old pickup truck sat near the house; to his knowledge, Mrs. Orrick didn’t own any other means of transportation, not even a tractor. All farm equipment had been sold off in the past decade.

The frame house looked badly in need of a paint job, possibly indicating the owner’s inability to afford proper maintenance despite selling off her assets. He kicked aside the sympathy that immediately filtered into his thoughts. He had to remain objective. Not that he couldn’t feel compassion for others, but before he allowed it to color his judgment, he needed all the facts.

A twist of the doorknob drew his attention. The door cracked open just far enough for the home’s occupant to peek outside. “I don’t go to church and I don’t buy goods sold across a threshold. So don’t waste your time or mine.”

“Hello, Mrs. Orrick. My name is Keith Devers.”

The narrow opening widened slightly to facilitate a better visual inspection. Eagle eyes surveyed him carefully. “What do you want?”

“I have a financial opportunity you need to be aware of.” He patted his briefcase. “If I may come in and speak privately with you.”

“I don’t have any more land to sell.”

Her voice told him to go, but the glint of hope in her eyes offered a different story. “Mrs. Orrick, this isn’t about your land.” He reminded himself not to let sympathy get in the way. Lots of folks in the farming business had suffered hard times. This wasn’t about that. This was about a man who had every right to know his son. “This is a far more lucrative offer.”

She gave him a final once-over, then opened the door. “Just remember, I’m not buying anything.”

Across the threshold, with the door closed behind him, Keith felt his confidence level rise. All he had to do now was convince this lady that reuniting father and son would be in everyone’s best interests. And, in fact, Keith did have a nice offer from Van Valkenberg. Van Valkenberg felt compelled to pay that back child support, which amounted to a sizable, inordinately generous sum. A small fortune, in fact. Enough to satisfy the financial needs of both Orrick women. Allowing the child to know his father would benefit everyone involved.

“Sit if you like,” Mary Orrick offered as she took what was clearly her favorite chair, an upholstered rocker that looked well worn and sported a cozy doily on each wood-trimmed arm.

He settled onto the sofa and placed his briefcase on the coffee table. When he leaned forward to open it, she said, “Before you go to any trouble, what’s he paying you?”

Keith stilled. “Excuse me?”

“That monster Van Valkenberg. What’s he paying you to try to find my daughter?”

Several strands of gray hair had slipped from the clasp holding her hair at the nape of her neck. Decades of hard work under the brutal sun had aged her skin well beyond her years. She looked tired and impatient, yet a keen intelligence shone through that depleted veneer.

Keith straightened, kept his gaze steady on hers. “Mr. Van Valkenberg’s attorney has retained the services of my agency to attempt to locate his son. There are hefty back payments of child support as well as estate issues that need to be settled. Your grandson is Mr. Van Valkenberg’s only heir.”

Mrs. Orrick’s gaze tapered suspiciously. “Are you saying his estate needs settling? Is he dead?”

This was where things got sticky. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that particular matter. I do have documents—” he reached for his briefcase again “—that provide for your grandson’s financial future and the back payments I mentioned.”

Keith passed the legal documents assigning Avery Van Valkenberg—the child’s name on his birth certificate—sole beneficiary of Desmond Van Valkenberg’s estate. Another document outlined payment of an appropriate amount of accumulated child support. As uncomfortable as Keith felt allowing the woman to believe that Van Valkenberg was practically dead already, the papers were legitimate. The kid would be incredibly rich very soon. And the guy was dying.

Mary Orrick studied the papers for a few moments, especially the final pages with Van Valkenberg’s notarized signature. In time she looked up. “You leave these with me, Mr. Devers, as well as your business card and I’ll see what I can do.”

Combative? Uncooperative? Didn’t make sense to Keith. The woman appeared quite reasonable and he was sure this wasn’t the first time money had been offered for information leading to her daughter’s whereabouts. Then again, he doubted anyone had ever let her believe the monster, as she had called him, was dead.

Keith gave her his card. “Use my cell number. I’m staying in a hotel in South Bend.”

She looked at the card, raised skeptical eyebrows at him. “I’m not making any promises. We’ll see is all I’m saying.”

Keith left it at that. He’d accomplished the first stage of his plan. The next move was up to Mrs. Orrick and her daughter.

Outside, dusk had brought with it a noticeable drop in the temperature. He got into his car, turned around and drove down the long drive, away from the farmhouse in need of seemingly endless repairs.

Careful not to get out of range of Ben’s latest gadget, he parked a short distance up the country road that served as the main route into this part of the county. He checked the settings, tucked the earpiece into place and waited for Mary Orrick to do what any mother would.

Less than ten minutes after Keith had left the house, someone inside, Mary Orrick no doubt, placed a call on a cellular phone. Three rings later, a soft female voice answered. “Hello.”

“They sent someone new this time.”

Silence.

Keith analyzed the one word the other female had uttered in greeting. He couldn’t conclude with certainty that the woman was Ashley Orrick since he didn’t have a voice pattern with which to compare it, but his instincts were leaning that way. He watched as the small screen on the handheld computer relayed the signal to one of Ben’s contacts. All he needed was ninety seconds and that same contact would triangulate the exact location of the woman Mrs. Orrick had called.

Thank you, Ben.

“Not Brody?”

Again Keith played the cautiously chosen words over and over, committed each nuance of sound to memory. In his opinion, there was now no question about the woman’s identity.

“No,” Mary Orrick said. “A Keith Devers. He’s from some private investigations agency in Chicago. He brought papers showing a high six-figure number Van Valkenberg’s people are ready to pay in back child support, if you can believe that. But the real kicker he delivered is the estate papers. I think maybe Van Valkenberg’s dead or on his deathbed.”

“He can’t be dead, Mother. It would have been in the papers.”

Mother. Definitely Ashley.

“Come on,” Keith muttered as he watched the small LCD screen. “Give me a location.”

“True. But I’m looking at these papers. They name Jamie as the sole heir to his estate.”

Jamie. She’d changed the boy’s name.

“This could be a trap.”

“I know,” Mary relented with an audible sigh. “But I had to tell you, honey. This could mean your freedom and Jamie’s is close at hand.”

Keith tensed. Freedom? What the hell did that mean? He knew the two women likely hated the guy, but damn, wishing him dead was cold.

A series of high-pitched tones alerted him that the location had been acquired. South Bend? It couldn’t be that simple. No way.

“Send me the papers the usual way. I’ll take a look and we’ll go from there.”

The two exchanged good-byes wrought with palpable emotion. Keith jerked out the earpiece and focused on driving. He could be at the address in forty minutes. He hoped like hell she would still be there.

How could she have been living that close all this time and not have been discovered by Van Valkenberg’s people? It didn’t make sense. Brody didn’t appear incompetent by any means.

Keith would know soon.

Forty-five minutes later, Keith sat outside a twenty-four-hour diner in South Bend.

“This can’t be right,” he murmured. Would Ashley Orrick have the nerve to work in the open in a place like this?

Keith had a very bad feeling that something was way out of sync here.

He got out of his car and surveyed the crowded parking lot. Every instinct warned that solving this case wasn’t going to be anywhere near this easy. But the location was all he had.

Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the length of the front facade of the diner. Booths, tables and even the long counter fronted by bar stools looked to be occupied. Four waitresses weaved around the maze of customers. Not one looked like his target, but all looked harried.

Since he knew this wasn’t the only restaurant in town, he could only assume, judging by the crowd, that the food must be above average. But it wasn’t the food he was interested in.

As he moved inside, he pretended to scour the place for an open table or stool, surveying each waitress a little more closely. Nope. Not one matched Ashley Orrick’s description. That didn’t mean she wasn’t in the back working in the kitchen in some capacity. For that matter, she could be here having dinner. Just in case, he scanned the faces of customers a bit more slowly. No one caught his eye.

Noting the arrow pointing to a side corridor and the location of the restrooms, Keith made his way through the diner. He bypassed the men’s room and took a chance. He knocked on the door of the ladies’ room. When no one answered, he stuck his head inside and checked the stalls. Empty.

With a quick glance toward the diner to make sure no one was headed that way, he moved past the restrooms and the emergency rear exit, to the door marked Employees Only. He pushed into the kitchen and had just enough time to scrutinize the crew scrambling to fill orders before anyone noticed his presence and realized he didn’t have any business poking his head through the door.

“Hey!” A short, stout woman shouted. “You can’t be back here!”

“Sorry.” He shrugged, tried to look embarrassed. “Bathroom?”

“The door marked Men’s Room,” another woman said with a smirk.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, then quickly made his exit amid a rumble of laughter.

He returned to the dining room, located an unoccupied bar stool and made himself comfortable.

“You ready to order?”

He glanced up at the waitress waiting on the other side of the counter. A bottle blonde, tall, slim. Looked as if she’d worked one shift too many.

“Coffee.” He pushed a smile into place, glanced at her nametag. Gina. When he was just a kid, his mom had been a waitress. Honest work, he remembered her saying. Honest but hard. As an adult he’d always left big tips.

“Cream? Sugar?” She had shored up a faint smile in answer to his, but it appeared as mechanical as her one-word queries.

He shook his head. “Black.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing else.”

A few moments later, she set the mug of steaming coffee in front of him and moved on to the next customer. As he savored the coffee, he watched the patrons coming and going.

Half an hour passed and still no sign of anyone even remotely matching Ashley Orrick’s description. He’d considered numerous possibilities. Had she dyed her hair? Blond? Brunette? What about her eyes? Would she be wearing colored contacts to camouflage her vivid green eyes? He had to admit he’d never known anyone with eyes that brilliant. They shone like jewels. That sounded cheesy, but it was true. He’d definitely know those eyes if he spotted them, even in a crowd and from a reasonable distance.

She could have gained weight. Lost weight, though not much if she wanted to maintain her health. Ten years ago, she’d looked thin enough.

Ben had done an age progression on her and estimated that she wouldn’t look that different unless she’d had a significant weight change or suffered from an illness or been in an accident that altered her physical appearance. He’d gotten the age progression on the infant, as well. And though Ben’s friend, who Keith suspected worked for Homeland Security, asserted that the progression was ninety percent accurate, Keith would have to see the kid to believe it.

Still, he paid attention to every male child and each female adult who entered or exited the diner.

And nothing.

Not an hour later.

Not two hours later.

He’d been had.

“HE’S HERE. Been hanging out a couple of hours.”

Ashley felt her heart thump against her sternum. Damn. She should have known the story this guy had given her mother was too good to be true.

“You’re sure it’s him?”

“Yep. I’m looking right at him. He’s wearing that navy suit your mother described. The white shirt and red tie. He’s tall, blond hair, great blue eyes. Tanned. Just like one of those surfer guys. Damned good-looking for a cop.”

“Not a cop. A P.I.”

“Whatever.”

Ashley closed her eyes and exhaled a weary breath. When would it end? When would she and Jamie have a normal life? Never, said her heart.

“Can you pix him for me?”

“Sure.”

“And Gina,” Ashley went on, a new kind of fear suddenly kindling inside her.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. I don’t know…” What was it? Nothing she could name or put her finger on. “Something about this one scares me.” Maybe it was the enormity of the offer Desmond had thrown on the table this time. She sensed a desperation in the act she’d never felt before.

“Don’t worry, Ash, I’ve got this dude’s number. Soon as I hang up, I’ll send you a snap of him.”

“Thanks, Gina.”

Ashley hung up her cell phone. The one she used to contact only Gina. She had three altogether. One for calling her mother, which bounced all over the country, ultimately showing that the call originated from Delta’s Diner in South Bend. And then the one she used for calling her son.

She blinked back the emotion that burned in her eyes when she thought of her precious boy. It had been two weeks since she’d seen him. It got harder and harder every time she had to leave him.

When he’d been just a small child, it had been easier. He’d cried. She’d cried. But she had known that he really didn’t understand what was happening and that he would love her and forgive her; the fact that she’d left him would be forgotten by the next time she came to see him.

Things were different now. He was ten. He no longer cried, he asked questions. Demanded answers. He no longer forgave her so easily when she left and then returned sometimes days, sometimes weeks later.

It was hell.

She squeezed her eyes shut but failed to block a few of the tears that would not be contained. She hated Desmond Van Valkenberg.

Why didn’t he just leave them alone?

At first, it had been about the threats. If she ever told anyone what she knew…what she’d seen…

But she’d never told a soul. And he’d left her alone.

Then, after two years, as if he’d suspected she had told his secrets, he’d shown up in her life again. She and Jamie had barely escaped him.

It was several days before she understood why he’d appeared in her life once more. The remains of one of the women with whom he’d carried on one of his many kinky affairs had been discovered. Her face had been plastered all over the news and the papers. Ashley couldn’t remember her having gone missing, but then she’d been busy trying to elude Desmond at the time.

It wasn’t until those remains had been found that Ashley had known exactly what Desmond was capable of.

Murder.

Her decision to take her son and disappear so completely that she scarcely knew herself anymore had definitely been the right one.

Even now, eight years after the remains had been found, the case had not been solved.

Nothing about the case had connected the dead woman to Desmond. Nothing likely would. He had the kind of money that could cover up any injustice.

But she had the videotape.

The single piece of evidence that could prove he’d had a dangerous affair with the woman right before she went missing. That didn’t make him her killer, though the brutality of the sex they shared had been damned frightening. It would, however, make him a suspect. He wouldn’t stand for that. The extent that he appeared to be willing to go to in order to see that the tape never got into the hands of the authorities was the single most compelling reason for Ashley to be scared.

She hadn’t realized the significance of the tape she’d taken from among dozens upon dozens she’d discovered after her son was born. No, taking that particular tape hadn’t amounted to brilliance or even luck. She’d merely taken the one that showcased her as one of Desmond’s conquests.

She shuddered when she let the memories emerge from that place where she’d locked them away so long ago.

Desmond Van Valkenberg was capable of anything.

Anything.

She’d run with her child in tow to protect him from the evil his father craved. Besides, Desmond didn’t like baggage. He’d been fascinated by Ashley. That was the only reason he’d allowed her to actually live with him for more than a year. Her foolish vulnerability had enticed him. Even the child they’d created together had amused him for a time.

But that hadn’t lasted very long.

She’d realized it was time to go the night he’d tried to kill her.

Her cell phone rang and she jumped. She glanced around the store to make sure no one had come in to witness her foolish behavior. She had to get a grip here.

Pressing her hand to her chest she sucked in breath. Stay calm. Being calm and rational was her only defense against Desmond. She had to be smarter than him. Quicker on her feet.

He’d left her alone for a very long time now. What was the reason for his sudden renewed interest?

There had to be some motivation for his trouble. Had the investigation into that old case been resurrected?

Had he killed another of his consorts? She hadn’t seen anything in the news related to that sort of case in the Chicago area. There were only three other women on the tape besides her. One was dead. It wouldn’t be difficult to determine if the other two were alive and well. Maybe she should look into that possibility.

She opened her phone to view the picture Gina had just sent her via her own camera phone.

The image of the man her mother had described filled the small screen.

Ashley moistened her lips and told her heart to calm. Young, she decided. Maybe her age or younger. Handsome. He looked…harmless.

But he wouldn’t be.

Desmond Van Valkenberg had sent him.

Nothing about Desmond could be considered harmless, most assuredly not his hired help.

Whatever he was after, she had to make sure he didn’t find Jamie.

She had to protect her son at all costs.

She sat down on the stool behind the counter and stared at the image on her phone’s tiny screen.

Her intuition nudged her, warned her, that this time she wouldn’t escape so easily. This guy looked as determined as he did handsome.

She closed the phone and looked up as the bell over the store’s entrance door jingled. A familiar face strolled into the convenience store.

“Evening, Mr. Talley, how are you tonight?” Somehow she managed to sound chipper when she felt anything but.

He grunted from beneath the bill of his cap. “Can you believe I had to come out for milk at this hour?” He shook his head and shuffled toward the cooler at the back of the store. “I swear. Couldn’t she have noticed that we were out before bedtime?”

Ashley had to smile. The man was one of her regular customers and the she he spoke of was his wife. They’d been married forty years and he never let anyone forget it. For all his grumbling, Ashley knew he worshiped the ground his wife walked on.

“Thank the Lord for all-night convenience stores,” he groused as he plopped the gallon of milk onto the counter. “How’s your night going, Nola?”

That was her name now. Nola Childress. Nola who lived and worked in Waynesville, Missouri. A nobody in the middle of nowhere.

“Like all the rest, Mr. Talley. Quiet.” That was another way she stayed out of the mainstream. She worked the graveyard shift.

That was her life. Nobody, nowhere, nightshift.

Not even her own mother knew where she was.

Whatever Mr. Keith Devers’s agenda was, he couldn’t know, either.

That was the one hard and fast rule she lived by. Every instinct warned her that it was the sole reason she and her son were both still alive.