Next she worked on her official case report. She’d written these countless times for the others, transcribing tapes and notes into the proper format:
The following investigation was conducted by Nadine Kimble, of The Fox & Fisher Detective Agency, in New York City. On November 2, Patrick O’Neil asked for help in locating his biological son…
For several hours she labored over the report. The mistake she’d made in not obtaining a photo of Stephen still rankled, and she decided that, better late than never, she should find one for the file.
She decided to write his aunt Diane and ask for one. She included a postage-paid envelope and also her e-mail address so Diane could send a digital photo if that was easier.
At two o’clock Nadine paused to eat a dry bagel with cream cheese and helped herself to one of the juice smoothies that Kate loved. She made a mental note to visit Kate tomorrow morning and see if there was anything she could do for her.
Her snack finished, Nadine returned to the report. It was more difficult to write than she’d expected. She kept including details that didn’t belong, kept having to backspace over information about Patrick and his life and the things they’d done together that had nothing to do with finding Stephen.
Like skiing, and playing pool, and having a candlelight dinner and making love…
No, it wouldn’t do at all to include those details in her report.
When she was finally finished, she printed a copy for the files and a copy for Patrick.
Then, she realized that this report said everything that needed to be said to the partners. This report, in short, could be her confession.
She printed off three more copies of the report, stapling them into five neat packages—for Patrick, the files, Lindsay, Nathan and Kate. As she worked, she reflected that she might be taking the coward’s way out, but at least she could go to sleep tonight with a clear conscience.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PATRICK TRIED TO WRITE ALL DAY Wednesday but his attention span was frustratingly short. Every time his phone rang he expected to hear Stephen’s voice on the line. Or Nadine’s.
But it was never them.
Nadine had said she would get in touch after she’d finished her final report. He wondered how long it would take. He wanted to talk to her. Wanted to see her and touch her.
Ask her opinion on what he should do about his son.
He was beginning to think he’d made a mistake leaving it up to Stephen to make the next move. What if the boy never wanted to see him again? Maybe there had been something in June’s letter that painted him as the bad guy.
Damn, he wished he’d read that letter when he had the chance. He could have resealed it in a new envelope and Stephen wouldn’t have been the wiser.
Patrick pressed his fist against his forehead. He felt like he was going mad. If only June had told him about this face-to-face. He had so much he wanted to ask her, but she’d planned this whole thing so he couldn’t.
She must have known how crazy this would make him.
But to be fair, she’d had bigger problems on her mind.
Patrick tried again to focus on his manuscript. For a short while he was able to concentrate, but before he knew it, he was staring out the window and thinking about Nadine again.
She’d asked him to wait until he received her final invoice and report in the mail before contacting her again. And he intended to respect that. The key word being intended.
Early Thursday morning, after a very long night with very little sleep, he went out for a walk. Forty-five minutes later, he stopped in front of The Fox & Fisher Detective Agency and told himself that this self-enforced exile was silly. Why couldn’t they at least have a coffee together…was that too much to ask?
Posted office hours were nine to five and it was only quarter to nine now. Deciding to take a chance Nadine might be in early, he went inside, through the vestibule and up the stairs to the second floor.
THURSDAY MORNING, NADINE decided to stop by Kate and Jay’s new apartment before she went to the office. Last night, she’d bought a case of smoothies and some magazines she thought Kate might enjoy.
Nadine took her report on Patrick O’Neil’s case and slipped it between the pages of one of the magazines. She was too much of a coward to hand the report directly to Kate.
At the front door of the apartment building, Nadine ran into Jay and his teenage nephew, Eric. Jay was a tall, distinguished man—the sort of guy strangers would automatically turn to in an emergency.
He also had the softest heart.
After his sister’s death, when Eric had first come to live with him, he’d sidelined his career so he could spend time with his grief-stricken nephew. For a few months he’d worked at Fox & Fisher, and during that time Nadine had become very fond of him.
She thought Kate—who longed for a big family—had found the perfect man to share in her dream.
“Hey, Nadine. Isn’t it a workday?” Jay looked pleased to see her, but curious.
“Yes, I’m on my way to the office. I just wanted to drop off a few goodies for Kate first.” She smiled at Eric. “How’s school?”
“Good.”
As he hitched his backpack over his shoulders, Nadine thought he’d probably grown two inches since she’d seen him last. He was fifteen now. A serious kid who dreamed of working for the NYPD one day.
“I’m off for the next three days,” Jay said. “But I have a few errands, so I thought I’d walk to the subway with Eric. Go on up. Kate’s going to be thrilled to have some female companionship for a change.”
“Gotta get going, Uncle Jay. We have an exam first period and I can’t be late.”
Jay shrugged good-naturedly at his nephew’s prodding. “Okay, let’s make tracks. Catch you later, Nadine. It’s the second door on the left.”
This was Nadine’s first visit to the three-bedroom apartment Kate and Jay had moved to after they were married. She knocked on the door, then tried the handle, glad to see it wasn’t locked.
“It’s just me. Nadine. Don’t get up.” She entered the small foyer. To her right was the kitchen, with painted cabinets, tiled floors and bistro seating. To the left, a living room, where Kate was supine on an aqua-colored leather sofa.
“Hey, you! This is a nice surprise.” Kate tossed the New York Times to the floor. “Did you bring presents?”
Nadine laughed as she scanned the warm, inviting room. “Wow, you’ve really fixed up the place.” Lindsay had described it in less than flattering terms when they’d first moved in.
“It’s home. Now show me the presents.”
Nadine passed her the stack of magazines, with her report tucked deeply in the middle. She’d hidden it well, since she didn’t want to be here when Kate read it. Then she opened the grocery bag. “I brought those smoothies you like. I’ll put them in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Nadine. You’re a sweetheart. This is so boooring, you wouldn’t believe it. And I’m only on my second day!”
Nadine returned from the kitchen and sat on the chair next to the sofa. “Why did your OB put you on bed rest?”
“She’s worried about premature birth. My due date is only three weeks away, but she said the baby was small and she wants to delay labor for at least another week. So basically, I’m supposed to keep my activity to a minimum and my eating to a maximum.”
Nadine laughed. “That doesn’t sound too bad. But what about the wedding? Are you going to be able to go?”
“I’ll be bringing the baby with me, but I wouldn’t miss it. Even if Jay has to push me in a wheelchair. Now tell me about your holiday. Lindsay said you ducked away for a few days. So is he cute?”
Nadine lost her smile.
“Oh, no. What went wrong?”
“It’s complicated. I can’t talk about it now. Tomorrow I’ll visit again. Maybe by then…” By then Kate would have read the case summary and she would have talked to Lindsay and Nathan.
Who knew—by then she may have been
fired.
Nadine asked if there was anything she could do, and after Kate assured her, “Jay will be home in an hour anyway, and he loves being my personal slave,” there was no more putting it off.
Nadine headed for the office.
THE FOX & FISHER DETECTIVE Agency appeared to be open when Patrick tried the door, though the reception desk was vacant. Beyond reception were two offices. Both had their doors partway open providing a glimpse of a man and a woman, both preoccupied with work.
Patrick decided to wait until one of them noticed him.
Eventually a man emerged from the office on the left. He looked like a cop to Patrick. He had an honest, clean-scrubbed face combined with the sort of physique you didn’t want to meet up with in a back alley.
“Sorry. Our receptionist seems to be late. I’m Nathan Fisher. Do you have an appointment?” He paused, narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you that guy who writes adventure travel books?” He snapped his fingers. “Patrick O’Neil.”
“That’s me.” He held out his hand and smiled. It was always nice being recognized. Maybe because it didn’t happen that often. “And, no, I’m afraid I don’t have an appointment but I’m here to see—”
“Holy crap!”
The expletive came from the office next to Nathan’s. A blonde woman with delicate coloring and a lean, athletic build, emerged from her office, wearing a blazer, top, jeans…and socks. She had papers in her hand.
“Did you read this report from Nadine?” She looked up, surprised to see a third person in the room. “I’m sorry. I thought we were alone in here.” She glanced at the receptionist’s desk. “Damn. She still isn’t in?”
“Not yet,” Nathan Fisher said calmly. “I haven’t read the report, but we can talk about it later. This is Patrick O’Neil. He wrote that travel book on New Zealand that we were looking at last night.”
The conversation had been confusing enough, but now Patrick was genuinely puzzled. “My New Zealand book? But—” Before he could say that it wouldn’t be on the shelves for a couple more weeks, he remembered that he hadn’t seen his copy since his first meeting with Nadine last week. He must have left it behind.
“It’s a terrific book.” Nathan went on enthusing. “Lindsay and I are thinking of traveling there for our honeymoon.”
“The two of you are getting married. Congratulations.”
“Fox,” Lindsay said, pointing to herself, “and Fisher,” she concluded, indicating her fiancé. “But I know who you are. You’re the fellow who was looking for his son.”
“He is?” Nathan asked.
“Yes.” Patrick said at the same time.
Nathan rubbed his head. “Am I missing something here?”
Patrick was having the same feeling. “I was actually hoping to speak with one of your colleagues. Nadine Kimble. Is she in the office?”
Nathan gave him a puzzled look. “Nadine is our—”
“Out for the morning,” Lindsay interrupted, loudly, and rather rudely, Patrick thought. “She’s out for the morning and I don’t know—”
Lindsay stopped short as the outer door started to open, and a woman entered the office. Even before he saw her face, Patrick knew it was Nadine. She was barely in the room and he could already smell her perfume.
“Oh,” she said, stopping short at the door. She stared at him, clearly surprised—and not in a happy way—to see him.
At just that moment, Patrick noticed a nameplate on the receptionist’s desk. Why was Nadine’s nameplate on the receptionist’s desk?
He flashed back to his first time in this office. Nadine had been sitting at that desk. She’d said the receptionist was out of the office.
But why would she have lied? Why would she have pretended…? He shook his head. No. That wasn’t Nadine. There had to be an explanation.
“Nadine?” he asked. “What the hell is going on here?”
Nadine looked beyond him to the people she worked with. Nathan Fisher looked almost as confused as Patrick felt right now.
His partner, Lindsay Fox, seemed to have a handle on the situation, though.
“I just read your report, Nadine,” she said. “We’ll have to talk later. But for now, why don’t you take your—client—into the boardroom so you can straighten things out with him?”
Looking guilt-stricken, Nadine nodded. Then she turned back to Patrick. “May I pour you some coffee?”
The blurred picture was coming into focus now. And he didn’t care about coffee. “I’d rather you told me what’s going on. Why is your name on the receptionist’s desk?”
She sighed deeply. “You noticed that, huh?”
“Just a second ago.” He had a vague remembrance of her shifting files around on that first day and now he understood why. She’d been hiding the sign. She’d purposefully deceived him.
“Let me explain. Let’s go in the conference room. Please?”
The others had retreated to their offices, but rather than discuss this in the open, he agreed. She led him into the room where they’d discussed his case the first time, and closed the door. As soon as they were alone, she apologized.
“I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.”
“So it’s true? You’re just a receptionist?” He couldn’t believe he’d been duped so thoroughly.
She cringed. “Not just a receptionist. I’ve taken classes and I’ve worked on plenty of cases with the others. It’s just—yours was the first case I’ve handled on my own.”
“So I was your guinea pig?” And she really thought that would make him feel better?
“I found your son, didn’t I?”
“That’s not the point. I came here thinking I was hiring an experienced private investigator. You can’t pretend you didn’t sign me on under false pretenses.”
She’d been standing behind one of the chairs, as if needing a barrier between them. Now she gripped the back of the chair. “I don’t know why I’m arguing. Of course, you’re right. I was dishonest from the start. I thought as long as I was successful, it wouldn’t matter.”
“The end justifies the means? I can’t believe you would even say that.” How had he been so wrong about her? “You turned finding my son into some sort of game.”
“That’s not fair. I worked hard.”
“And working hard excuses you from lying?”
She dropped her gaze. “No.”
“Well, you were damned good at it. You not only convinced me you were a private investigator, you also had me half falling in love with you.” He laughed bitterly. What a bloody, blind fool he’d been.
“Patrick, please believe me when I say how sorry I am. I—I felt those same feelings…for you.”
“I have to give it to you. You know how to make a pretty apology. What’s the matter? Are you worried I’ll make a stink with your employer? Maybe lodge a complaint against the agency?”
He could do that. He had every right. In fact, maybe he should try to make some trouble for her.
“No. That isn’t what I was worried about,” she said quietly, but firmly.
Seeing tears pooling in her eyes, he had to look away from her. Damn it, she was still getting to him. He swallowed and clenched his teeth. Don’t be an idiot. Why should I feel sorry for her? This is probably just another great acting job on her part.
“Whatever you feel—I don’t care,” he said. He was trying to stay focused on his anger, but the pain of being deceived was even stronger. He had to get out of here. “Go ahead and send me your report and the invoice. I’ll pay it. Like you said, you did deliver the results.”
As he turned to leave, she said, “Stop. Wait. There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
Slowly every muscle in his body turned to stone. One more thing? Good God, what could it be?
She moved so she could see his face and he reluctantly met her resolute gaze. She must have wiped away her tears because they were gone and there were dark smudges under her eyes.
“I want you
to know my real name.”
He felt stunned. “You’re not Nadine Kimble? But the sign on your desk—”
“Kimble is my mother’s maiden name. I use it at work. My legal name is Nadine Kimble Waverly.”
His mind remained blank for a moment. Then he remembered seeing her at the gala, how at home she had appeared in the diamond ballroom of the…Waverly Hotel. “Your parents are Wilfred and Sophia?”
She nodded.
He covered his eyes with his hands. The Waverlys were beyond rich, beyond wealthy. She might as well have told him she was a Trump or a Kennedy, the name had that much weight.
He looked at her again, this time focusing on the expensive-looking clothes, the Patek Philippe watch. “What the hell are you even doing here?”
“I—I wanted a real job.”
“I’ll bet. Great concept for a reality TV show. Rich socialite becomes private investigator…Isn’t that the sort of thing your cousin is famous for?”
Because, of course, Nadine must be related to that blonde flake he’d seen on magazine covers and, briefly, on the TV before he could change the channel. What was her name…Liz, that was it. Patrick couldn’t believe how quickly the puzzle pieces were falling into place.
Or what an ugly picture was forming.
PATRICK DIDN’T SAY A WORD of farewell. Perhaps he thought his parting look of disgust said it all. Nadine sank into the chair she’d been leaning on and started to cry.
She knew she’d been in the wrong.
But had she deserved all his contempt and scorn?
Perhaps she had. He’d hired her to find his son, a job that was intensely important and personal to him. And she had not been the person she’d made herself out to be.
No matter what, she was not going to shrivel up and run away. One piece of advice her father often repeated suddenly came to mind. When you make a mistake—face it head-on.
Receptionist Under Cover Page 10
