by Webb, Debra
Sylvia shook off the moment of déjà vu and sent the text. Deciding not to risk that she’d overlooked anything else, she unzipped the bag. “Sorry, Judge, but I need another look to make sure you’re not hiding any more secrets from me.”
Sylvia never missed a detail like this one. Yet another indication of the difficulty she’d encountered lately in keeping her mind on work and out of the past.
She couldn’t deny its existence anymore. It was time to deal with that past.
Chapter 5
17th Street South, Five Points, 7:55 p.m.
Buddy Corlew tossed back the last of the beer and set it aside. He leaned back in his chair and glared at the pile of papers cluttering the desk in his home office.
“I hate this stuff.”
What good was an accountant if he still had to do all this paperwork come March every year? He laughed. To hear his CPA tell it, if he kept up the paperwork year round he wouldn’t have this mess as the dreaded tax deadline approached. She also reminded him that she had actually needed all this last month.
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” Buddy pushed back his chair and grabbed his empty longneck bottle. Facing this pile of disorganized work history required at least one more beer. Maybe he’d break out the hard stuff.
A distant memory abruptly elbowed its way through his frustration. “Maybe not,” he muttered.
The last time he’d filled out any government forms while under the influence of his favorite eighty-proof he’d gotten hauled in for questioning. Apparently, it was frowned upon to make smart ass remarks in answer to questions from the federal government. He’d hired his CPA that very year. Buddy grunted and decided it was best not to get all worked up about the things he couldn’t change. Life was a hell of a lot more pleasant when he focused on fixing the problems of his clients rather than his own. Not that he had any real troubles beyond paperwork.
Nah. His house was paid for. So was the sleek black Charger parked out front. He had a little cash in the bank and all the sweet babes he could handle. What else could a man want? His traitorous mind instantly conjured up the image of one babe in particular. A firm rap on his front door prevented him from going down that not so smart path.
He spent about two seconds considering whether or not he should find a shirt to drag on before answering the door. Deciding not to bother, he headed that way. Anyone who showed up at his house at this hour was probably a client who knew him well enough to have his home address. Or, he mused, the ex-husband of a client who’d found him through the only competitor in town dumb enough to stoop this low. Giving out a PI’s home address to the wrong guy was like sanctioning a hit.
A couple more hard raps echoed through the house. “Hang on.” He grabbed his snub nose as he passed the hall table and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back. Sounded like his anxious visitor was pretty pissed or damned scared. Either way, it could mean trouble.
Buddy moved to the window on the hinge side of the door and eased the curtain aside. Visitors were typically focused on the knob side of the door, allowing him a quick peek from this side without being spotted.
Sylvia Baron stood on his porch. Even if he hadn’t been surprised to see her there he still would have lingered to get a good long look at her before opening the door. Damn. The woman was hot. Those legs of hers went on forever. The green skirt and white blouse failed to hug all her subtle, sweet curves, but he knew every damned one. Dark glasses hid her eyes, and she had all that silky hair twisted into a conservative up do of some sort. She presented an uptight, conservative image, but he knew better. Peel off the designer labels and drag her between the sheets and she was a wildcat. His body reacted instantly to the memories.
“Fool.” He flipped the latch and opened the door. “Well hello, Doctor Baron.” He braced against the doorframe. “Took you long enough to decide you wanted an encore.”
“Please.”
She set her hands on her hips and glared at him. He didn’t have to see her eyes, he could feel them raking over him.
“I’d like to speak with you. Privately. If you’re not too busy.”
“Come on in.” A whole list of potential issues was suddenly running through his mind. They both had gone a little stupid the night of Jess’s wedding. He’d never had sex without using a condom... except that once. Surely a woman as sophisticated as Sylvia was on some sort of birth control. He suffered a twinge of panic.
“Would you please put on a shirt first?” She lifted her chin in that haughty manner she used to put people off. “I have no desire to look at your naked chest.”
He shrugged. “So don’t look.”
She shot him a glare that warned she was dead serious. Rather than argue, he left her standing at the door while he went in search of a shirt. He grabbed the tee he’d tossed across the bed when he got home this morning and pulled it on. The sound of the door clicking to a close told him she’d come inside. When he swaggered out of the bedroom, she stood in the small entry hall, looking sorely out of place.
“You want a beer or something?”
She took off her sunglasses. “I’d really like to move straight to business.”
Buddy rubbed the back of his neck, his uneasiness mounting. “Sure.” He gestured to the living room. “We should probably sit down.”
She settled in the chair near the front window. It was the one with the most direct path to the front door. Didn’t surprise him. She looked ready to run.
Holy hell. Twenty-seven years. He’d never once had sex without using a condom until... her. The only good advice his drunken old man had ever given him was never ever to have sex without a condom. Even at the hormone-driven age of sixteen, he couldn’t have sex without that sage advice echoing in his head.
“This is very difficult.” She took a deep breath.
Buddy recognized he should say something, but he couldn’t find his voice.
“I’ve been carrying this around for too long, and it’s time I did what needs to be done,” she announced.
He couldn’t take it. “Just tell me what you want me to do.” He exhaled a chest full of tension. He could do this. If Jess could have a kid, he could. Sure. Hell yeah. No problem.
Sylvia appeared taken aback or confused. “Isn’t that generally your job? If I knew what to do, I certainly wouldn’t be here.” She tucked her sunglasses into her bag and clasped her hands in her lap.
Now he was confused. He swallowed, wished he’d gone for the hard stuff when he’d had the chance. “Why don’t we start with exactly why you’re here?”
“I’m here because...” She shifted in her chair. Crossed her legs, and then tugged at the hem of her skirt. “I’d like to hire you to look into a... situation.”
Relief roared through him like a freight train. “Whew.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “That’s a relief. I thought you were here to tell me you’re pregnant.”
Judging by the horrified look on her face he should have kept that to himself.
“You...?” She stared at his Eagles t-shirt, then his ragged jeans and bare feet. She laughed, but not quickly enough to cover the way her breath quickened and her cheeks flushed. “No. Absolutely not.”
He grinned. “Yeah. Right. So, tell me about your situation.”
She uncrossed her legs. Then crossed them again. Her edginess was killing him. Every time she crossed or uncrossed those gorgeous legs he remembered the feel of them around his waist.
“Let’s get something straight first.” She scowled at him with those dark as midnight brown eyes. “You are bound by privilege, Buddy Corlew. You cannot discuss this with anyone else. Are we clear?”
Whatever this situation was, it was big and personal. He leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees. “You listen to me, Doc. I’ve been doing this for a while now. You think I’d have the reputation I do if I didn’t know how to keep secrets?”
She cleared her throat as she clasped and unclasped her hands. “You can’t even tell Jess.
”
Their gazes met and he saw the hurt there. Whatever this was, it was not only big and personal it was painful. “You have my word.”
“All right.” She nodded. “By the way, I appreciate your discretion about... that night.”
He gave a nod. He didn’t kiss and tell. As he waited for her to begin the silence settled around them. No need to push. They had all night.
“When I was twenty-two I found myself in a difficult position.” She stared at her hands. “I’d just graduated college. I’d been accepted to medical school and I was very excited. I was in love with a young man with the same career hopes and dreams as I had.” She met Buddy’s eyes briefly. “Except his hopes and dreams didn’t include a future with me.”
Buddy flinched. “Most guys are real shits at that age.”
She nodded. “I was naïve. I never saw it coming.” She squared her shoulders. “In any event, I couldn’t go to my parents. I didn’t want to disappoint them and Nina had just been diagnosed with schizophrenia. They didn’t need another problem to deal with, so I handled it myself. I told them I wanted to take a semester off in Paris and they agreed. With Nina falling apart midway through undergraduate school, I think they were terrified I might fall apart, too.”
“But you didn’t go to Paris,” he guessed. It was easy to see what was coming.
She shook her head. “I spent the next six months in Sacramento. When I came home, I never told anyone what happened. You’re the first person to know.”
No wonder she was so uptight. She’d been carrying this burden all alone for a hell of a long time. He appreciated her trust more than she could know. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”
She exhaled a big breath. “I’d like you to find my daughter.”
Chapter 6
Crescent Road, Mountain Brook, 8:15 p.m.
“He was tortured,” Senator Robert Baron said somberly. He gazed at those gathered and wondered if any one of them understood the implications of what those words actually meant.
This was no game... no mere threat or scare tactic. This was real and the intent was undeniably clear. This was the first time the four of them had been in a room together outside a social event in six years.
Six. There had been six of them when this began. Six brilliant young men determined to make their marks in this world. Too bad they hadn’t considered the long-term consequences a bit more closely. At the time all that had mattered was achieving the greatness they each desired.
If only they had known then what they knew now.
“You called this meeting,” Joseph Pratt fired back, “to tell us what we’ll see on the news by this time tomorrow?” He sipped his scotch. “Considering how many defendants he sent to death row, it’s a miracle this didn’t happen years ago.”
Robert wasn’t surprised by Joe’s indifference. The former mayor had always been the last to see what was right in front of his nose unless it suited his purposes.
“You don’t see the relevance between this murder, our old friend’s sudden disappearance, and the release of his loyal assistant?” Surely they recognized what was happening here. Robert certainly did.
Craig Moore set his drink aside and cleared his throat. “Are you saying you believe that old bastard is somehow responsible for this?”
“I am,” Robert confirmed.
“Really, Robert,” Sam Baker shook his head, “the suggestion is absurd. How do we know Wilson Hilliard isn’t dead? And that crippled assistant he had forty years ago is a crippled old man now. How can you believe he’s behind Harmon’s murder?”
“I’ve been briefed on the crime scene,” Robert insisted. “We need to take this threat seriously.”
Isaiah Taylor held up his hands. “What do you suggest we do? It’s not like we can go to the police.” He looked from Robert to the others, his gaze resting briefly on each face. “We all have secrets we’d like to keep. Who of us is willing to open this particular Pandora’s box?”
“What we can do is watch our backs,” Robert offered. “Of course, none of us wants to rehash the past with the public or the police. Be that as it may, we have to be smart. None of us wants to end up dead, either. I believe—”
Joe waved his hands back and forth, cutting Robert off. “Whoever did this,” he argued, “the last thing we need to do is to panic and start spilling our guts. Frankly, I have enough trouble right now without one of you opening this can of worms.”
Craig nodded. “I’m with Joe on this one. I have an election year coming up. I can’t afford any scandals. We need to stop making more out of this than it is. Murders happen. Harmon made himself an easy target.”
“If,” Sam spoke up again, “Harmon’s death had anything to do with... what Robert is suggesting, that doesn’t mean any of us are in danger of the same end.”
Robert held his temper. “How can you make such a conclusion? We were all there.” He looked from one man to the next. “We all reaped the same benefit. We all made the same promises, and we all walked away.”
“We’re not the ones who saw that Wilson was committed to that institution,” Sam argued. “We didn’t ensure his assistant was charged with and convicted of embezzlement.”
“No,” Robert agreed, “we didn’t. But we were there when the vote was taken. We all voted to make it happen—whatever the cost. Harmon was just the one with the means to put the necessary steps in motion. His assistant spent years at Bibb Correctional Facility. We are responsible, gentlemen.”
No one argued with him this time.
They all knew he was right. The only question that remained was what in the world would they do now?
Chapter 7
Shook Hill Road, Mountain Brook, 9:40 p.m.
Sylvia sat in her car outside her family home for a while. She’d grown up in this massive house. To most who visited the place, it looked more like a museum than a home, but it wasn’t like that at all. She and Nina enjoyed idyllic childhoods. Their parents doted on them and ensured they had everything they needed. Of course, need is relevant. Certainly, she and Nina had more than most, yet their upbringing had been rooted in respect for others, appreciation of all the things they had been blessed with, and their obligation to give back to society.
That picture-perfect childhood had been shattered to some degree by Nina’s mental illness. Though Nina had stabilized sufficiently to finish her undergraduate work as well as law school, life had never really been the same. They’d all gone on, but that distinct wound had never fully healed. How could it? Each time they believed she was going to be fine, there would be a relapse and she’d fall apart again. Each time she fell apart, the family shattered a little more. Eventually, Nina had been lost to them for the most part. Would her recent astounding and ongoing recovery put those missing pieces back together? Sylvia wasn’t sure.
Perhaps the guilt haunting her just now was prompted by watching all those around her move on with their lives while she stood absolutely still. On some level, she suspected that was the reason her mind insisted on questioning every single step she took lately. Like that ridiculous blue eagle tattoo. No matter how she attempted to dismiss it the idea of it continued to chaff like a new pair of shoes.
Images and sounds from the night she’d spent with Buddy tried to invade her thoughts and she banished them quickly. Buddy Corlew was the last person she needed in her life aside from his ability as a private investigator. Jess had mentioned on numerous occasions how good Buddy was at his work. Sylvia trusted he was equally discreet. So far, he hadn’t fallen down in that area. She hoped her revelation didn’t change his trustworthiness. There were no doubt gossip rags that would pay well for a story about the senator’s secret granddaughter.
She sighed, the sound hissing in the silence. How would she explain her decision to her parents? Would she? If Buddy found... her, Sylvia would have to make the decision about revealing herself. There were many things to take into consideration first. What if she—her daughter—was very happy in h
er life just as it was? She might not appreciate this sort of life-changing news. What if her adopted parents hadn’t told her she was adopted? The idea of shattering her life was one Sylvia couldn’t bear to examine.
She shook her head. “Take it one step at a time.”
What if her daughter was dead?
The thought ached through Sylvia. Any time she had allowed herself to think about the baby she gave up for adoption, she’d always imagined her as having grown up in a wonderful, happy home. She’d be a junior or senior in college now. She might even be engaged or married.
What if she hates you for what you did?
This was the other painful question Sylvia had carefully avoided all these years. She had done the right thing at the time. On numerous occasions she had gone over those days and months. Her family had been in turmoil. Sylvia wasn’t sure her parents could have dealt with more unsettling news. She had wanted to finish her education and to build her career. How could she possibly have been a good mother at the time?
“It was the right decision.” Sylvia took a deep breath and opened the car door. She always made the right decisions—almost always anyway, she amended as those erotic images of the night she’d spent with Buddy Corlew flashed one after the other in her head.
“What a mess.” She climbed the steps, suddenly feeling so damned weary. It was late and she’d had a long day. Turning around and going home was immensely appealing, but this was another of those things she had to do. She would keep her visit short. She hadn’t eaten since lunch and wasn’t sure she could summon her appetite. If her mother found out she would immediately start warming up leftovers.
After giving the doorbell a push, she shoved her key into the lock and opened the door. Though her parents insisted this was still home and she could pop in any time, she preferred giving at least a quick warning.
“Sylvia.” Her mom smiled as she padded into the entry hall, her feet bare. “Please don’t tell me you’re just leaving work at this hour.”
