Secrets & Chance (The Sterlings Book 1)

by Lynn Hastings

  “Well, do you want to get out here?” Myrtle asked.

  Chance flung two fingers back and forth as though he was directing her. “Just park so we’ll know where to come find you.”

  She frowned then straightened her face. “Okay,” she sang, sounding reluctant and suspicious.

  Myrtle drove out from under the carport and made a hard right to park in a temporary spot.

  Chance and Rosalie got out of the car and walked around to the front of the building, out of Myrtle’s sight.

  “Ever heard of Christine Valdez?” Chance asked, keeping his voice low.

  Rosalie shook her head as they passed the double glass doors and headed toward the rooms. “Never.”

  They passed a door with 101 tacked on it in brass material. They reached 110 before turning the corner. The rooms on this side of the building had a view of an empty dark field. Chance and Rosalie passed 111, 112, and kept going until they reached 117. There was no light outlining the curtain, which meant Kathy was either waiting awake in the dark or asleep.

  “Here we are,” Rosalie said as they took a few more steps and stopped in front of the door.

  They faced the chipped green paint. After a moment, Chance lightly knocked.

  They waited with their ears aimed at the door and watched each other expectantly. Not a peep came from inside, so Chance knocked again. A substantial number of seconds later, it was clear that no one was coming to let them in.

  “What now?” Rosalie asked.

  Chance turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. They looked at each other with wide eyes. Chance entered first. He cautiously stepped one foot across the threshold then the other. Nothing or no one stirred, so he turned on the lights, using the switch next to the door.

  The bed was made, and other than the scent of an old room abused by the daily flow of strangers, the room looked unoccupied.

  “Are you sure she said 117?” Rosalie asked.

  Chance’s gaze rolled around the space. “I’m sure.”

  Rosalie walked over to the scratched wooden desk and picked up a thin notepad. She flipped through the pages. “What was she supposed to tell you?”

  “She was to elaborate more on the video she gave me.”

  “More? Like what?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question.”

  Rosalie sighed as though she was frustrated. She folded her arms. “I’ve got a feeling we’re supposed to find something.”

  Chance also sighed. “So do I.”

  They stood very still as they looked around the room. There wasn’t much to the space—the bed, the desk, the dresser, and two nightstands, one on each side of the bed.

  “How about we start from the middle?” Rosalie asked. “You go left; I go right.”

  Chance smirked a little. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He liked anybody who took initiative, especially a smart and sexy woman.

  She smiled. “Well, you know what they say about great minds.”

  Chance and Rosalie stared into each other’s eyes for a fraction of a second too long while smiling. They ripped their starry-eyed gazes off of each other and began the search. Chance pulled the drawers open on the dresser, making sure to slide his hand across the wood at the bottom of the drawer and above it. One by one, he searched the drawers and found nothing. Next, he searched the nightstand. He pulled out a Bible from the top drawer.

  Rosalie chuckled. “Ah, you got the Bible.”

  He chuckled too. “Indeed.”

  They both dropped to their knees and looked under the bed. He could see her pretty face searching then smiling at him.

  “Nothing down here,” she said. “Pray that my hand doesn’t catch cooties. I’m going between the mattresses.”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  At first, he thought he might’ve slid his fingers across Rosalie’s hands, but then Chance realized that whatever he was feeling couldn’t have been her soft flesh.

  “Got something,” he said.

  TWELVE

  ROSALIE STETSON

  Even though it was pouring rain, the car cut through the night like butter. Chance had the file folder hidden under his shirt. Rosalie found it nerve-racking trying to guess what information was so important and secretive that Edna’s ex-secretary had had to hide it between the mattresses in a motel room on the outskirts of town.

  “All the green was the most stunning part,” Chance said.

  It was his turn to keep Myrtle’s mind occupied with arbitrary details so that she wouldn’t question how strange it was for them to ride to the motel then ask to be returned to the manor. She seemed to accept Chance’s explanation that the rooms weren’t up to their standards and that they would do better sleeping in the den.

  Myrtle offered to drive them to the Blushing Green Inn, which would’ve been more suitable for folks like them, but Chance declined without explanation. Then he remarked on how much he used to like visiting the town during the summer when he was a kid, which was enough to send Myrtle’s thoughts in the direction he wanted them to go.

  “That’s why it’s called Blushing Green, because this town is always blushing green,” Myrtle said.

  Chance snickered. “Yes, it is. Plus, the weather’s always better in California, even when it’s raining. Our current conditions prove it.”

  “It’s supposed to rain for the rest of the weekend and all through next week. I’m surprised that you’re having a party on the grass. It’s going to be pretty sloshy.”

  “Well, you know, experience is always the best teacher,” Chance said.

  Myrtle chuckled. “It certainly is. So are you two a couple?”

  Rosalie and Chance glanced at each other. She found Myrtle’s question very interesting. She was sharp and the kind of person that paid attention to detail, which meant that deep in the back of her mind, she had all kinds of questions about their little trip to the motel.

  Rosalie squeezed Chance’s knee. He seemed to understand what she meant. She had come up with a way to manage the situation.

  “Funny story,” Rosalie said, chuckling. “We’re cousins, and we invited a surprise guest for our grandmother, but if everyone else is staying at the Blushing Green or Bay View Inn, then we run the risk of our surprise being ruined.”

  Rosalie was encouraged by the sound of Myrtle’s laugh. It was loud and tinted with relief. She knew Myrtle had wanted their backstory from the moment they entered the car. So she gave her one that seemed sufficient.

  When they reached the manor, Myrtle was fine with passing the main entrance and driving alongside the gate until they reached the dirt road used by the field hands to enter the property. The backseat ride was bumpy, and Myrtle complained about the stress on her tires. But since they were dropped off closer to the house and her car had suffered in the process, Chance gave her a hundred-dollar tip for her troubles. The extra cash filled her with glee.

  When they made it inside, Chance and Rosalie were less wet than they could’ve been since Myrtle had dropped them off closer to the house. With the file folder in their possession, they decided to waste no time. Rosalie’s heart thumped out of control as she went to her room to get out of the damp clothes and put on something more comfortable. She suffered quite the conundrum as she stood in front of her hanging garments. She could wear her robe, but she had already noticed Chance’s eyes light up when he saw her in it. Although she was beyond attracted to him, she didn’t want to play cheap. That sort of behavior was confusing to men. She wanted Chance Sterling to respect her as a sharp lawyer, one he would be proud to have on his team at Lord and Lord Enterprises.

  So she walked away from the closet, still pinched for time, and went to the drawer to quickly take out and put on a pair of vintage boyfriend jeans and a gray sweatshirt. She had brought the outfit just in case Edna needed her to help prepare for Saturday night’s party.

  What a strange turn of events. Edna had been gone since that Friday morning, and Rosalie couldn’t deny the
odd feeling she had that her ex-grandmother-in-law wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

  As she put on her fleece-lined socks, Rosalie put together a list of reasons why Edna would screw over her family by not showing up to her own party. The number-one reason Rosalie could think of was Edna’s resignation. Edna would have never released the wheel that was guiding Sterling Family Enterprises into the future, not without being forced to do so. She would be ninety-nine years old and still calling the shots. Nope. The reason she had disappeared was because she was shoving the big middle finger in the faces of those who had pushed her out of the driver’s seat. However, Rosalie had never known Edna to be the sort of person who would take that finger and ram it up their rectums, and that was exactly what she was doing by not being home on party day. Something was wrong, and Rosalie wouldn’t be able to rest until she saw Edna’s regal face again.

  She was ready. It was time to dig into that file and see what it had to say. Rosalie cautiously opened her door and peeked her head out into the hallway to make sure it was clear. It was. The plan was to not knock. She carefully walked into Chance’s room then closed and locked the door behind her.

  A fresh fire was brewing in the fireplace. He was sitting in a comfy armchair before it, next to a round table similar to the one that was in her room.

  Chance’s lips parted as he watched her approaching. “You look nice.”

  Rosalie felt herself blushing, and she wished she could have stopped herself from doing it. “Thank you.” She looked away and then back at him.

  “I just started reading.”

  Rosalie got ahold of herself and sat in the chair on the other side of the table. “Any idea what’s in there?”

  Chance handed her a form that resembled lab tests. “Look who they belong to.”

  She read the name. “Christine Summers Valdez?” She continued scanning the document until she reached the part indicating the probability that Conrad Bartholomew Sterling was Christine Summers Valdez’s father was 99.9 percent and above.

  Rosalie’s mouth fell open. “Edna’s husband?”

  “My grandfather, yes. And this one.” He handed her another page.

  The probability that Carolyn Edmonds was Conrad Bartholomew Sterling’s daughter was also at 99.9 percent.

  “Who’s Carolyn Edmonds?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but there are others.”

  There were three more DNA reports: Charles Wentworth, Liam Roberts, and Regina Smith, all children or likely children of Edna’s deceased husband.

  Rosalie was flabbergasted as she looked up at Chance. “What the hell does any of this mean?”

  Chance sighed. “It could mean a lot, but definitely not a little.”

  Rosalie gathered the forms and put them back into the folder. She pinched her lips as she pondered. “Do you think Edna had anything to do with Christine Valdez’s death?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  His answered worried her. “Well, do you think Edna is capable of something like that? Because I don’t.”

  “Grandmother…” Chance massaged his temples as if he was stressed by whatever he was going to say.

  Rosalie wanted to hear it, which was why she was on the edge of her seat.

  “Grandmother what?”

  Chance stood. “How about we get some rest and talk about this tomorrow?”

  Rosalie sat back in her chair and squeezed the arms of it, pondering whether she should let it drop or not. She wanted him to say what she needed to hear. But she had evolved enough to understand that the truth she wanted to believe wasn’t always such. Chance had left her hanging. Did he think she couldn’t handle hearing anything negative about the woman who had mentored her into the person she had become—a strong, successful, confident, independent human being?

  Finally, she stood to face him. “When I asked if you think Edna is capable of murder, you had an answer. I want to hear it. Please.” She watched him with a soft and open gaze. Rosalie wanted him to see that she was being sincere more than pushy.

  Chance studied her for a while. “Yes. I do,” he said in a tone that made him sound sure of himself.

  Her heart dropped. “But why?” She sounded so sad to her own ears.

  “Because tyrants are complex, and monsters aren’t real.”

  She frowned harder as she began to make sense of his words. “Are you saying she’s a dictator? A bully?”

  “I’m saying that I’ve known Grandmother to be the sort of person who would maintain her power and control by any means necessary.”

  Rosalie shook her head, not because she doubted Chance’s assessment of Edna but because she had never known the woman to behave like a tyrant. “How? Please explain.”

  Chance looked deep into her eyes and sighed. “How about we just get some sleep and talk about it in the morning?”

  Rosalie wasn’t moving an inch until he explained. “Please, how?”

  He sat back in his chair. “Okay…”

  Rosalie sat too.

  “You know part of who she is, and that part is truly her. She’s not a dictator of a country, but she is the ruler of Sterling Family Enterprises.” He patted the folder that was sitting on the coffee table. “What’s contained in this folder and the fact that Grandmother has it don’t surprise me.”

  Rosalie shifted in her seat. Chance was saying a lot, but she really wanted a direct answer.

  “Chance?” Her voice was strong yet controlled.

  “Yes,” he responded.

  There was something in his eyes, perhaps fear, definitely vulnerability, or perhaps he was mirroring her expression back to her.

  “Has she killed before?”

  He sighed hard and collapsed deeper into his seat. “I can’t prove it, but I’ve had my suspicions.”

  “Could you name some instances that may support your beliefs?”

  He narrowed an eye. “Am I on trial?”

  It took Rosalie a moment to realize he was joking.

  She chuckled. “No, but I certainly would like for you to shed more light on the subject of Edna being a murderer.” Just saying that made every muscle in her body grow tense and her head feel floaty as though she was no longer on earth.

  Chance cracked a tiny smile. “You have a subtle way of getting what you want. I like it.”

  Rosalie had to struggle to breathe evenly. There was fire in his eyes. Was he coming on to her? She had her suspicions, like earlier when they had been in Edna’s room and she could’ve sworn Chance wanted to throw her on the bed and screw her brains out. But again, she passed off her suspicion as transference, only reflecting what she wanted him to do to her. If only Chance Sterling would make a move on her. He had no idea how far he could get. All of the walls of caution were beginning to crumble.

  Rosalie dropped her bashful face. “Thank you.”

  Chance crossed his legs, which let Rosalie know that he would be open but only to a certain point.

  “There was a guy named Kurt Ballantine, who was passing inside trader secrets to Baylor. The Feds were catching wind of it. The whole ordeal made Grandmother very upset… Humph.” He tilted his head inquisitively.

  “What?” Rosalie asked.

  “I had never seen Grandmother that angry. It didn’t make sense to me then. I was general counsel. I was ready to go to war for the company.” He shifted abruptly in his seat, uncrossing his legs in the process. “But it just occurred to me that Grandmother didn’t want anyone to know how the company’s assets were legally structured.” He shook his finger at Rosalie. “Remember what she told us the other day about the deal between Stuart Campbell and Andrew Sterling?”

  “Yes. She said there were provisions to protect the Campbell family’s interests.”

  “Right. Getting back to Kurt Ballantine. I was prepared to fight the charges in court because I knew Grandmother wasn’t involved with insider trading. I planned on shifting the blame to where it was due.”

  “To Baylor?”
<
br />   “Yes. But then Ballantine flipped and said Grandmother was the inside trader. She used her contacts to hire her own investigator. Frederick Holland stepped into the picture, and I was out. A few weeks later, Kurt Ballantine was found dead in his bed. He was fifty years old, in great shape, but he died of a sudden heart attack.”

  Rosalie felt herself shrug indifferently, but her mind truly didn’t commit to the action. “People die young every day of a heart attack.”

  Chance nodded thoughtfully. “True, and that’s what I’ve chosen to believe.”

  “Chosen?”

  “Yes, chosen.”

  Silence fell between them.

  “So why do you think Edna had this Kurt Ballantine killed?”

  “No information came to me directly, but I believed that Ballantine had been paid a lot of money to pin the illegal act on Grandmother. So I asked myself, why would anyone do that? The faces started playing through my mind like a police lineup.”

  “Baylor, Carlton, and Douglas, but not William and Penelope?” she asked.

  “Definitely not Penelope. I used to think William had no ambitions, but not after today. I’m beginning to think he was just the runt of the litter without a teat to suck on, and that kept him starved. But now, it seems he’s feeding. Anyway, your list was spot-on.”

  Rosalie gulped. Goodness, the way he said that made her wet. “So, um…” She had to get her thoughts together. “So Baylor wanted her out so he could take over?”

  “Maybe it was Baylor. He denied having anything to do with Kurt’s flip and blamed it on my dad.”

  Rosalie widened her eyes and mouth. “Do you think your dad had anything to do with it?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think he acted alone.”

  Rosalie realized that she was leaning toward Chance, so she flopped back in her chair. “Just like that folder doesn’t surprise you, none of what you’re saying surprises me.”

  “Just remember, apples never fall far from the tree.”

  Rosalie tilted her head curiously. “Does that mean you’re like your father?”