Darker: The Inquirer

by M. S. Parker

  “Thanks.” I turned back to the stove on the pretense of needing to stir the eggs. “Grab a plate.”

  “How about I get two?” She didn’t quite pull off completely casual with the question, but I went with it.

  “That’d be great. Thanks.”

  As I split the eggs between the two plates, I had a flash of what my future could possibly look like, waking up next to Nyx, having breakfast with her, starting our day with the same routine.

  “Have you been up long?” She broke the silence as she put her plate on the table.

  “Just enough to get the food and coffee ready.”

  “How do you take yours?” she asked as she walked over to the pot.

  I would’ve told her that I’d get it for both of us, but I had a feeling that she wouldn’t be comfortable just sitting and waiting. Besides, I was still trying to get my rebellious dick under control.

  “Just a splash of the creamer in the fridge.”

  “The big, tough cowboy doesn’t drink it black?”

  I grinned at the teasing tone, a different warmth settling in my stomach. I liked the idea of this easy banter with her.

  “Cowboys are more out West than in the South,” I informed her. “Besides, we don’t have cows on the ranch.”

  “Then what are you?” she asked, carrying two mugs of coffee over to the table. “A horseboy?”

  I laughed. “You make a fair point.” I sat down across from her. “I suppose ranch hand would be the most accurate job title.”

  As we ate, our conversation stayed on my work, but I didn’t mind. When we were finished, I planned on showing Nyx what I’d discovered before she’d come over yesterday. I intended to use it in my film, but if it could help the Huxleys and Nyx’s clients, I wanted them to have it too.

  “I have to know.” Nyx stabbed a section of egg with her fork. “How did a rich politician’s son on track to be a documentary filmmaker learn how to give riding lessons?”

  I was impressed by the question and let it be heard in my words. “Most people just want to know how I ended working here, not how I was qualified to do the work.”

  She shrugged, a pleased smile curving her lips at the compliment. “It just seems like a weird thing for you to know how to do.”

  “After I found out about my dad and my ex, I needed to get out of Savannah,” I broke off a piece of bacon but didn’t lift it to my mouth, “so I went to Statesboro to stay with a cousin of mine, Perenelle. She volunteers at a stable that teaches special needs kids how to ride. That’s where I learned the basics. When Brew hired me, he said I had a natural talent with horses, so he taught me the rest of what I needed to know.”

  “Brew and Shadae are great people,” she said, nothing but sincerity in her voice.

  “Some of the best I’ve ever known,” I agreed.

  She reached over and put her hand on mine. “I understand why you were angry when you thought I was using them.”

  “It’s funny.” I turned my hand and linked our fingers together. “I feel more at home here, with them, than I ever did with my family. More myself.”

  “I get that.” She rubbed my fingers with her thumb. “When I moved in with Kaimi and Rose, it was the first time I’d felt like I was home since before my dad died.”

  We were both quiet after that, and after finishing the last of my breakfast, I got up to put the plate in the sink. It was time to change the conversation so that we weren’t both thinking about how the places we each called home were eight hundred miles apart.

  I’d looked up the mileage during the flight to New York for Kaimi’s wedding.

  That wasn’t important right now, though. We had other things to discuss.

  “I meant to come see you today.” I poured myself a second cup of coffee, then put the pot back on the warmer when she placed her hand over her mug, indicating that she’d had enough. “I found a few things that I think you’ll find…interesting.”

  “Interesting?”

  “I moved it all over to the couch so we could eat at the table.” I took her empty plate and put it with mine, continuing my explanation as I went. “I was at my sister’s house yesterday, watching the kids while everyone else was at the hospital and–”

  “Shit!” Nyx cut in, an embarrassed expression on her face. “I completely forgot about your nephew! How is he?”

  “Good,” I said with a smile. “He has to stay in the hospital longer than he would have if they’d caught it before his appendix burst, but he’ll make a complete recovery and should be home around Halloween.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she said, sitting down next to me on the couch. “If something like that happened to Rose, I’d be a mess.”

  “Somehow, I doubt it.” Off her look, I added, “You’d be the one threatening the doctor with loss of limb if they didn’t take care of her.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, that does sound about right.” She leaned against me for a moment. “Now, back to what you were saying.”

  I was tempted to put my arm around her, but we’d probably get distracted if I did that, so I stuck with simply telling the story. I explained about the boxes and how I’d brought them home. I’d put everything into a pile in chronological order rather than the order I’d found them in, and I handed over each piece as I explained what it said and what I was filling in with educated guesses.

  When I finished, I stopped talking, and we sat in silence as she went through everything more closely. It was hard not to watch her face as she read, study the nuances of her expressions. I knew her well enough to know that sort of attention would make her uncomfortable, so I simply sat and waited, looking at nothing.

  “Well, damn.”

  “If what’s there wasn’t so fucking awful, I might’ve laughed at that response.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I plan on using what’s there to expose my family’s lies, but I figured your clients could use it too.”

  She looked more than a little bit dumbfounded. “It definitely answers some questions.”

  “And brings up some other ones.” I rubbed my face with both hands. “Like how my however many greats uncle probably fathered a child with a slave.”

  “I have to double-check with my client to give any names, but I can tell you that one of the things I was supposed to be looking for was a way to get DNA from a Traylor to be compared to DNA we already have.”

  Shit. It sounded to me that if they’d sent her looking for my family’s DNA, then the odds were in their favor that they’d match.

  She licked her lips. “If you’re willing to do it, I’ll reach out to them.”

  “I will.”

  She gave me a strange look I couldn’t read. “Shouldn’t you talk to your family first?”

  I scoffed. “They’d just try to cover it up. Best let the lawyers handle it.”

  “Oh shit.” Even though we’d just woken up, Nyx sounded tired. “The lawyers.”

  I turned toward her so that our knees touched. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “Yesterday, I started looking into the law firm that hired me, and it turns out they’re A. Check & Associates.”

  “Check? Shit. That’s the name of my family’s lawyer.” I didn’t like the direction this was going.

  “I know.” She pressed the heel of her hand into her eye. “I looked into that too.”

  I frowned. “The law firm that hired you is connected to the law firm my family uses?”

  “Oh, it gets better than that.” Her voice had an edge to it. “Two of the sons at Check & Sons – Ambrose and Art – moved to Rochester and started A. Check & Associates.”

  Art.

  Art Check.

  Her molesting asshole of a stepfather.

  Motherfucker.

  I couldn’t say anything for a full minute, but when I finally could speak, only three words came out.

  “What. The. Fuck.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”
<
br />   “That’s an understatement.” I shook my head.

  “I’m going to look into whether or not there’s a conflict of interest,” she said stiffly. “If there is, I’ll advise my clients and the Huxleys to find a different lawyer.”

  I reached over and took her hand, squeezing it until she looked at me. “This is about more than your clients, Nyx. Unless you think it’s a coincidence that a lawyer from Rochester found you in New York.”

  “I don’t.” It was her turn to squeeze my hand. “Ambrose never hurt me, but I don’t understand why he sent Min to me.”

  “Do you want to talk to him? Confront him?”

  She thought for a few seconds, chewing her bottom lip before meeting my gaze again. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Well, if you do, I’ll go with you.” I put my hand on her cheek. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

  Twenty-Four

  Nyx

  I’d never expected to go back ‘home,’ but here I was at Rochester International, walking out of the terminal, my hand tightly held by the man at my side. When he’d told me he’d go with me to confront Ambrose, I’d appreciated the offer, but I hadn’t really expected him to do it.

  The earliest flight we’d been able to get was for today – Tuesday – which made it even more surprising when Bradyn bought two tickets. He’d assured me that Shadae and Brew wouldn’t have a problem with him being gone a couple days, especially once they found out he was going somewhere with me, and he’d been right. We hadn’t told them about what he’d found since I wasn’t sure how I wanted to handle giving over information now that I knew Ambrose was the one behind hiring me.

  Ambrose Check.

  He was the reason my mom had met Art in the first place. I’d heard the story a dozen times. Art’s older brother, he’d been at Cornell when he’d met a Rochester native, and instead of going back to Savannah to join the family firm like his older brother Abraham had done, he’d decided to stay and open his own law practice. His parents hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d stuck with it. After Art graduated from Brown, Ambrose had convinced Art to move to Rochester too. That’s where Art and my mom met and where my nightmares had begun.

  I’d told Bradyn all that on the flight, and even though he hadn’t asked, I’d known he’d had questions. I’d answered the main one, anyway. I had no idea if Ambrose had known what Art had been doing to me. He’d never said anything one way or the other.

  Then I’d changed the conversation so Bradyn wouldn’t ask one of the other follow-up questions I was sure he’d already been thinking. I knew for certain that Ambrose hadn’t kept in touch with his brother because Art was dead. I didn’t want to talk about that, though. I had a shit-ton of baggage to deal with, and right now, I had to focus on the whole Ambrose-Min-Savannah mess. Things were so up in the air, we’d even left our return tickets open-ended so I’d have whatever time I needed.

  “How’re you doin’?” Bradyn asked. The question sounded casual, but I knew why he was asking it, which was definitely not casual.

  “Okay for now,” I answered honestly. “One of the reasons we’re staying where we’re staying is that it’s nowhere near the law firm or my old neighborhood.”

  He didn’t ask if I wanted to see my old house. Whether that was because he already knew the answer or because he didn’t want to risk asking didn’t matter. I just appreciated him letting me take the lead with this.

  Our appointment wasn’t until tomorrow morning so we had some time. I hadn’t been thrilled about the wait, but it was the best we could do. I’d been wracking my brains to figure out what we could do that wouldn’t freak me out or involve a sex marathon that would leave me sore tomorrow, and I’d finally come up with an idea that made me nervous but not panicking, and the nerves were at least a different type of anxiety.

  “There are a couple places I’d like to show you, if you’re up for it,” I said as we made our way to the next taxi in line. “Places here that have good memories.”

  He smiled. “I’d like that.”

  Taking Bradyn to a few places in the city wasn’t just easier than I expected, but more enjoyable too. I liked being able to show him places where I’d been happy. A couple of them had even been from before my dad died.

  Staying busy had made it easier to forget why I was there, but by the time we went to bed, my mind had been racing again. Still, I managed to get at least a little sleep so that when Bradyn and I were having breakfast in the hotel restaurant, I felt like I was as mentally prepared as I could be for what I had to do.

  “I think I want to talk to Ambrose alone,” I said as we waited for our check.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Not really,” I said honestly, “but I think it’d be better. If I go in there with you, that just gives him something to use as a distraction, asking how we met, how long we’ve been dating, that sort of thing. I have enough questions for him. I don’t need him asking me any.”

  “That makes sense,” Bradyn said. “But only if you’re sure. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

  “I know.” I smiled at him. It was a watery smile at best, but it was still there. “And I’m grateful for it. Knowing that you’ll be at the hotel when I get back is exactly what I need.”

  He didn’t look like he was happy about my choice, but he didn’t try to talk me out of it. Instead, he walked me out front where a cab was waiting, gave me a kiss, and said that he’d be waiting for me.

  His faith in me gave me the courage I needed to make the ride to A. Check & Associates without freaking out. The sight of the building didn’t trigger anything, but that was probably because I’d never been there before. Art hadn’t believed in taking his family to work. I suspected it would be actually seeing Ambrose that’d do it.

  I paid the driver and went inside. A prim-looking woman with frosted hair and horn-rimmed glasses sat behind the welcome desk, and she gave me a tight, polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I’d met women like her before. She might’ve been a great secretary or administrator or whatever her title was, but she wore it like a badge of honor rather than a job. I had no doubt she considered herself a gatekeeper of sorts, the person who was in charge of who got to see her bosses.

  “I have an appointment to see Ambrose Check.”

  “Your name?”

  “Josie Pryor.” Since Min had found me in New York, I assumed Ambrose knew the name I was using. The last thing I wanted was to give him a head’s up. For all I knew, he’d bolt if he heard Nyx Phoenix was here to see him.

  “Have a seat, Ms. Pryor. Mr. Check is currently on a call.”

  I had no doubt the Mr. Check was meant for me since I’d said Ambrose’s first name, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for a social call.

  I moved away from the desk, but I didn’t bother sitting. I had too much nervous energy to be still. While I waited, I paced, moving from the picture on one wall to flip through the magazines in the rack. I’d done that about four or five times before the secretary called me over.

  “Mr. Check will see you now.” She pointed down the corridor behind her. “He’s at the end of the hallway. Knock before you go in.”

  I was tempted to give her a salute and a smart-ass comment, but I behaved. I wasn’t here to annoy the help.

  I found his office easily enough, and the voice that told me to come in was one I recognized, even all these years later. As I reached for the doorknob, I waited for the familiar feel of the world shifting, dragging me down into the past, but it didn’t happen. I opened the door and stepped inside, hoping I wasn’t making an awful mistake.

  His hair was grayer than the last time I’d seen him, and there was less of it too. When he raised his head, I saw a few more wrinkles, and then he stood up, just as stocky as he had been thirteen years ago. His eyes were the same muddy brown, and they widened as he recognized me.

  “Delia?”

  “Hi.” I closed the door behind me and came closer to the desk. “Mind if
I call you Ambrose? I don’t think uncle has meant anything in a while.”

  “I-I…uh…” He shook his head. “What are you–”

  I held up a hand. “How about we fast forward past you trying to figure out what to say and go straight to me telling you why I’m here.”

  He nodded and motioned to the chair across from him. I didn’t really want to sit, but I was honestly worried that I might hit him, and the last thing I needed was to go to jail on assault charges, especially with Bradyn so close. Too much might come out if that happened. I’d told him more than I’d ever told anyone else, but there were still things I’d kept to myself.

  I sat, and Ambrose dropped into his seat like all the strength had gone out of his legs.

  “What the hell are you up to, Ambrose?” I didn’t care how harsh my tone was. “Fucking around with my life? Sending one of your employees all the way to New York to mess with me?”

  Ambrose’s jaw dropped. “No! That wasn’t what I was doin’ at all!”

  “Then what were you doing?” My hands gripped the arms of the chair hard enough to make my fingers ache.

  He pulled a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed it across his forehead. “I wanted to help you.”

  A half scoff half snort escaped my throat. “Help me?”

  “I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” The words poured out of him, his accent as thick as ever. “Art messin’ with you…I should’ve known.”

  I wanted to ask him why he should’ve known, but I didn’t. Maybe I’d come back to it, but right now, I just wanted to hear what he had to say while he wasn’t thinking much about the words. More people spilled secrets by accident when the person they were talking to was silent than they did if they kept getting interrupted. Or, at least, that had been my experience.