by Carys Jones
Sometimes, behind the simplest cases…
Lawyer Aiden Connolly’s new case seems to be a run-of-the-mill paternity dispute. Millionaire Sam Fern suspects that his son is not his own flesh and blood, and he wants a paternity test to prove it. Fern’s wife Deena, a glamorous former model, is desperate to convince Aiden of her innocence…and she will go to any lengths to prove it.
…hide the darkest truths.
Meanwhile, Aiden is haunted by the memory of another beauty – Brandy White, who he worked to free from a murder charge. The woman he unwittingly fell in love with…and the woman who will once again draw him into a tangle of love and lies. With more than his reputation on the line, can Aiden hold his nerve – when nothing else seems certain?
Also by Carys Jones
Prime Deception
First to Fall
Second to Cry
Carys Jones
www.CarinaUK.com
Carys Jones loves nothing more than to write and create stories which ignite the reader’s imagination. Based in Shropshire, England, Carys lives with her husband, two guinea pigs and her adored canine companion Rollo. When she’s not writing, Carys likes to indulge her inner geek by watching science fiction films or playing video games. She lists John Green, Jodi Picoult and Virginia Andrews as her favourite authors and draws inspiration for her own work from anything and everything. To Carys, there is no greater feeling than when you lose yourself in a great story and it is that feeling of ultimate escapism which she tries to bring to her books.
As always, for my biggest fan, my Dad
Contents
Cover
Blurb
Book List
Title Page
Author Bio
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Extract
Endpages
Copyright
Chapter One
Be My Baby
Carol Cotton smiled pityingly as her niece, Brandy, hauled her single piece of luggage out of the cab.
‘You sure travel light,’ she commented. Brandy looked down at her holdall and smiled brightly.
‘I tried to leave most of my baggage behind.’
‘Good girl,’ Carol winked, wrapping an arm around the young woman and guiding her towards the apartment building where she’d be staying. As they walked, Brandy’s head pivoted wildly around as though her neck were loose, eager to absorb all the new sights and sounds of the big city.
‘Everything here is so…grand!’ Brandy enthused.
‘You get used to it,’ Carol replied jadedly. Reaching in to her purse she pulled out some keys and opened the glass doors of the apartment building which led in to a modern reception area.
‘Wow,’ Brandy breathed in awe.
‘You’ll be staying here in your own apartment,’ Carol explained, handing the keys to Brandy.
‘Are you joking?’ Brandy looked down at the keys in disbelief.
‘I’m no joker,’ Carol deadpanned. Brandy looked at the keys and then back at her aunt, struggling to take everything in. Less than a month ago she was a in a jail cell awaiting sentencing on her life and now she was in Chicago being given her own apartment. Surreal didn’t cover it.
‘You’ll be working for me,’ Carol explained. ‘At my salon, Chez Vous, which will more than cover your rent.’
Brandy was speechless.
‘I’ve done all right for myself,’ Carol continued. ‘Unlike your momma. It’s high time you had some family show you kindness. I dread to think what you went through back in Avalon.’
They entered the elevator and ascended up to the relevant floor. Brandy felt as though she were in some wonderful dream and any minute she’d wake up and be back in her cell staring at the same four grey walls and wondering whether the sun was shining or not.
‘You need to forget all about Avalon and everything that happened there,’ Carol advised as Brandy fumbled to unlock the apartment door.
‘Chicago is a new start for you, Brandy. The world can be anything you want it to be.’
*
‘So what can you tell me about Samuel Fern?’ Aiden asked his colleague, Edmond Copes, after they had exchanged the usual morning pleasantries.
‘What would you like to know?’ Edmond answered; not lifting his eyes away from the computer screen as his fingers furiously pounded the keyboard beneath it.
‘Just some general background,’ Aiden shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I’m a bit surprised I’ve not heard of him before,’ he added.
‘I mean, I’ve lived here a few months now and he is the Sheriff’s brother.’
‘Being brothers doesn’t mean they get along,’ Edmond said, still not making eye contact.
‘I guess,’ Aiden admitted, stretching back in his desk chair.
‘You’ve met Buck Fern, haven’t you?’ Now Edmond lifted his eyes to look directly at Aiden, a cheeky grin on his face.
‘It’s not hard to believe that even his own brother doesn’t like him!’
Edmond made a fair point. Buck Fern, sheriff of the small town of Avalon was hardly what could be described as a warm and pleasant man. If anything, Aiden had found him only to be cold and cruel. Despite the service Aiden had done the town in exposing the truth around the murder of Brandon White, Buck still refused to offer him more than a nod in greeting.
Aiden considered that perhaps what Buck lacked in kindness, his brother Samuel would make up for. Maybe they juxtaposed one another in character?
As if reading his mind Edmond spoke up. ‘Don’t go thinking Samuel will be the sweet to Buck’s sour,’ his Southern drawl prolonging the flavour-inducing words.
‘So they’re not so different?’ Aiden felt a little disappointed. Working previously with Buck had been more than a struggle. He wasn’t sure he had either the energy or patience to enter into a similar situation with another stubborn member of the Fern clan.
‘Not particularly,’ Edmond shook his head, causing his jowls to shudder slightly. ‘Main difference between them is the money.’
‘Money?’ Aiden felt his interest piqued. As a lawyer, he was well accustomed to handling the distribution of estates, the division of great assets. He had learnt over the years that nothing could tear a family apart as quickly or as effectively as vast amounts of wealth.
‘Oh yeah, Samuel Fern could literally swim in the stuff!’
‘Nice.’
‘He lives on a ranch just outside of town. Massive place.’ Edmond pushed himself away from his desk, his previously pressing work momentarily forgotten as there was now a story to be shared and the old man loved nothing more than finding a new audience for his collection of local tales.
‘Has he always lived here?’
‘Heck no. Sam Fern left Avalon years ago, when he was young. Made his money in the oil business. He’d float in to town over the holidays, spoiling his folks with exotic gifts, donating money to local charities. Thought himself a real big shot.’
‘So why did he move back?’
‘Same reason as you,’ Edmond pointed a finger at Aiden, ‘to settle down. He’d worked hard all his life. He met a woman, fell in love, wanted to establish a family. So he came back.’
‘And Buck wasn’t happy about it?’ Aiden guessed.
‘Buck was fuming about it,’ Edmond chuckled. ‘He spends his life working his butt off for this town. And the moment Sam rolls in, he’s completely forgotten and overlooked for his younger brother.
So the two have never seen eye to eye.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘But Sam Fern has got a shedload of cash. I can’t disclose a figure but I wrote up a will for him couple of years back and it brought tears to my eyes!’
‘Jeez.’ Aiden mused on the information for a moment. ‘So around town is he pretty powerful, well known?’
‘Not really, he distances himself from local politics. Probably for the best as that’s Buck’s territory.’
‘Yeah, course.’
As they talked, Aiden scribbled down a few key words on his notepad as he tried to establish some background to the case. Edmond’s local knowledge of people always proved invaluable.
‘So what about his wife?’ Aiden asked, since she would be integral to the case.
‘She used to be a Playboy model,’ Edmond raised his eyebrows suggestively but Aiden didn’t bite. He just nodded to himself thoughtfully.
‘I think she was Miss September one year…’ Edmond offered but Aiden just continued with his notes.
‘And they’ve got two children?’
‘Yeah, two small boys. One is about four the other is younger, maybe almost two.’
‘So they’ve been married for a while?’
‘Five years or so.’
‘Why have a custody battle now?’
‘Well,’ Edmond lowered his voice and glanced towards the door, beyond which was sat their loyal secretary, Betty, whose hearing was less than sharp so there was no real need to whisper.
‘Sam Fern has said he has his suspicions about his second son.’
‘Suspicions?’ Aiden had to strain to hear Edmond.
‘Yes. He says he has a feeling he isn’t his. If we can prove as much, it will certainly help with his custody appeal.’
‘So initially this is a paternity case?’ Aiden said, his voice at a normal level which immediately prompted Edmond to signal that they should be speaking more quietly.
‘Initially yes.’
‘What about the divorce proceedings?’ Aiden entered in to the charade of whispering just to appease Edmond. The older man shook his head.
‘Nothing with the divorce yet. He wants to be certain about the paternity of his second son first.’
‘Why is he suspicious?’
Edmond raised his shoulders. ‘No idea really. He mentioned something about there being a striking physical difference between his boys, reckons he can’t see himself in the younger one.’
‘Has his wife’s behaviour contributed to his fears?’
‘Well she’s young and beautiful and he’s old and was never handsome, not even as a young man, so I imagine he’s always fretted about that sort of thing,’ Edmond answered honestly, now forgetting to whisper.
‘He approached you directly about the case?’
‘Yeah, one afternoon on the golf course.’
‘You get much work when you golf?’ Aiden asked, remembering how when he worked back in Chicago either an exclusive gym or golf course was always a great place to scout for new business. He had no idea that Edmond would be as astute to make connections that way and admired the old man for his initiative.
‘Son, I get nearly all my work from when I golf!’ Edmond laughed to himself, pulling back towards his desk, clearly feeling that the conversation was concluded.
Aiden turned his attention to his own computer and the various emails which needed his attention, but his mind remained on the paternity case and something was pressing its way to the front of his thoughts, refusing to subside.
At last he just had to ask, needing to know the answer.
‘Edmond, how come I’m handling the Sam Fern case if he came to you about it directly?’
‘He asked specifically for you to work on it.’
‘He did?’ Aiden was surprised, shocked even. His previous case had been high profile but he didn’t expect clients to be seeking him out by name, not yet.
‘Sure did. I imagine he heard about how well you got on with Buck which warmed him to you!’ Edmond chuckled to himself once more, his body jiggling within his chair.
*
With his mind still very much on the Sam Fern case, Aiden decided to delay responding to his emails and instead run a quick Internet search on the local millionaire.
Sure enough, there were loads of stories about him. He seemed to be somewhat of a local celebrity.
Most articles were focused around a charitable donation he had given. He had funded a new MRI machine at the local hospital, along with a new ward for the children’s services. He’d given various donations to the local church and also the hospice at the next town over. He certainly appeared to be extremely generous.
Aiden found one article which contained a photograph of Sam Fern at the opening of the hospital ward where his wife was stood proudly beside him.
Had Aiden not known the connection between Sam and Buck Fern, he would still have made the assumption as soon as he saw him, as the millionaire looked almost identical to Avalon’s sheriff, aside from the fact that he was perhaps a bit taller in stature and had more hair, which may or may not have been his own. The heritage of said hair would be left to conjecture.
In the photograph Sam Fern was smiling broadly, but on such a flint-hard face the smile lacked warmth. His wife, however, was radiant beside him. With white-blonde hair and a ruby-red smile, she stole the picture from him, instantly drawing all eyes upon her.
It was easy to see why Mrs Samuel Fern had been in Playboy. She had the voluptuous figure and the flirtatious smile of a modern-day Marilyn Monroe. Her hands, adorned with fake nails, were wrapped around her husband as he was poised to cut an opening ribbon. She looked happy, they both did.
Aiden read the by-line to the picture;
Samuel Fern and his wife Deena, pictured outside the opening of the newly opened Fern’s Children Ward.
So her name was Deena. Good to know. Aiden added her name to his list of notes. He considered Googling her but hesitated, not sure he wanted a list of Playboy websites appearing in his Internet history at work. He would just take Edmond’s word for it for the time being that she had been Miss September at some point.
A sudden thought entered Aiden’s head and made him uneasy. No, it wasn’t a thought. It was a face. And it belonged to Brandy White. The woman whose life he had saved when he had uncovered the true killer of her husband.
Something stabbed at his heart. A pang of longing and for perhaps the hundredth time since she left he found himself wondering what Brandy was doing at that exact moment. Was she enjoying Chicago or did she miss the tranquillity of Avalon? He could picture her, working in the beauty parlour, smiling warmly at customers as they came in. They must love her, with her Southern charm and natural warmth.
Aiden found himself envying those customers because they got to see her and bask in her light. He was just left with memories and regrets and…
No. Aiden refused to wallow in his thoughts about Brandy. He needed to focus on the present. On his family. And on the case which he was currently working on. Brandy White was an old client, nothing more.
‘Which year did you say Mrs Fern was in Playboy?’ he asked Edmond, who upon hearing the question immediately lifted his ample frame up out of his chair and almost bounced over to where Aiden was sitting.
‘Ooh, I can’t remember for sure,’ Edmond said. ‘2002, 2003 maybe. We should do a search.’
He prompted Aiden as he stood over him and who was Aiden to ignore his boss? Besides, he would welcome the distraction and it would please the old man to look at some racy pictures all in the name of work.
‘Wait!’ Edmond said suddenly as Aiden was about to hit search on Deena, Miss September Playboy.
‘We should send Betty out on some errand. Don’t want the poor girl walking in here and seeing something too saucy for her mature sensibilities to handle.’
‘Okay,’ Aiden agreed though he doubted Betty either looked at or cared what was displayed on their computer screens. She was mo
re concerned about the contents of their coffee cups.
‘I’ll send her out for some doughnuts,’ Edmond declared proudly.
‘Good idea.’
‘Just don’t mention this to Mrs Copes.’
Aiden raised his eyebrows.
‘The doughnuts, I mean. She’s still got me on this diet.’
‘Right, gotcha.’ Aiden nodded, knowing that if he had a dime for every forbidden doughnut he’d had to conceal from Edmond’s wife he would be as rich as Samuel Fern.
*
Isla walked past the kitchen window but stopped abruptly when something caught her eye. At the end of the drive the arm of the mailbox had been lifted to signal the arrival of a new letter, which was strange since the mailman had already been and delivered the usual bundle of unwelcome bills. Frowning, Isla wandered down the driveway and opened the rusted front door of the mailbox and, sure enough, there was a single white envelope neatly placed inside. Reaching in, Isla picked it up and, turning it over in her hands, she was surprised to see that the front was blank, it wasn’t addressed to anyone specific.
Assuming it was junk mail, Isla was about to rip it in half when she instead tore the envelope open and removed the note from within. As she read it, she felt the air around her cool a few degrees and goose bumps broke out along her bare arms.
Within the envelope was a single piece of crisp white paper which when unfolded contained one single word. But instead of being written, the letters had been crudely cut from other sources and glued to the paper. Isla shivered as she read the word:
Leave.
It was a simple, succinct directive. Isla glanced around but the street was clear. Looking at the note in her hand she felt with the cold, distinct sense of dread that it was most definitely intended for her.
Isla refused to read the note again. With a shudder she promptly tore the piece of paper in half and shoved it into the garbage can before walking back in to the house.
*
Aiden still savoured his short commute home from work. The small town was the backdrop to his journey as he drove through the now-familiar streets. Traffic was always sparse, even at what would be considered peak times. He remembered all too well the complete gridlock which he encountered within the city on a daily basis and he didn’t miss it. There was something satisfying about being able to travel unhindered. It left him feeling less stressed when he walked through the door and greeted his family at the end of the day. There was no built-up tension souring his mood; he was a free man.
