Her Baby's Father

by Rebecca York

“I’m fine,” she lied. She was thinking that probably one of the people here was planning to kill Jack. Last time she hadn’t even realized what was going on until too late. This time she had to figure out who wanted him out of the way.

  Of course, it could be someone else. But she was pretty sure that the people with the most likely motives were right here at the mansion.

  “Tell me whom I’ll be meeting,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Indulge me with some hints.”

  He laughed. “Okay, you already met my father. And my brother, Ted. His fiancée, Janet, will be here. My mom. I’m sure Barbara from the office will also be here. Some other people from the firm. Gary Lambert, our lawyer. Dick MacDonald, Dad’s broker.” He stopped abruptly and looked back at the cars that were already pulled up on the lawn. “Too many to enumerate.”

  “Right. Sorry. I’m not that good at a million names all at once.”

  When she climbed out, he came around to her side of the car and took her hand.

  His hand was warm and strong, helping to reassure her as they headed for the house.

  Inside she heard music and laughter, the tinkle of glasses and classical music playing softly in the background.

  The house was furnished in a traditional, fairly formal style. Not what Sara would have picked, but it was very tastefully done. Doubtless with the help of a decorator.

  While Sara usually looked for old furniture she could fix up and use in houses she was staging, many of the pieces she saw in the Morgan mansion were genuine antiques. And the art on the walls was also impressive. There were a number of paintings that could have been hanging in galleries, like the Picasso print over the stone fireplace.

  A passing waiter offered them champagne, and they each took a flute. She stayed close to Jack as they strolled through the parlor into a huge sunroom that ran across the back of the house. It was less formal than the rest of the house with comfortable wicker chairs and love seats and a lot of tropical plants. A parrot wouldn’t have been out of place among the greenery.

  Ted spotted them and came over with a surprised look on his face—before he rearranged his features.

  “Sara Carter,” he said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “She’s with me. Obviously.”

  “Obviously. Glad you could make it.” He looked over his shoulder as a tall, blonde woman in a black sheath and three-inch heels approached. Her makeup was flawless, and her hair was swept up into a French twist.

  “Sara, this is Janet Harrison, Ted’s fiancée,” Jack said.

  “Nice to meet you. I haven’t seen you here before.”

  “Jack and I met a few days ago.”

  “She’s the woman I was telling you about,” Ted said. “Who staged the house I showed you yesterday.”

  Janet’s expression brightened. “Your work certainly added to the appeal of the house.”

  “Are you going to buy it?” Jack asked.

  Janet glanced at Ted, looking eager.

  “I think so, but I’m still negotiating the price. In this market, I think they’re asking a bit too much,” he answered.

  Jack nodded.

  “Dad said something about Sara working on the new office project,” Ted said.

  “Word gets around fast.”

  “We should discuss that.”

  “Did you mean now?” Jack asked.

  Ted waved a dismissive hand. “No. This is a party.” He turned to Sara. “Please. Enjoy yourself.”

  “I will,” she murmured, thinking that she’d enjoy herself a lot more after they got through the next month—and Jack was all right. No, it was more than that. She wouldn’t rest easy until the killer was behind bars.

  As the engaged couple stepped away, Jack reached for Sara’s hand. “Sorry about that.”

  “Let’s take his advice and enjoy ourselves,” she answered, trying to sound like she meant it.

  He squeezed her fingers, and she tried to relax. It was easier to meet these people the second time around, not that she enjoyed it any more. But armed with knowledge about them she could evaluate them better.

  Like Carolyn Morgan, who was talking to a group of people across the room. She was a woman in her early sixties who dressed well and made up her face carefully. Her gray hair was professionally dyed blond. Probably she’d also had plastic surgery because her skin was firm and smooth.

  Sara knew that she was an avid bridge player and also a devotee of recreational shopping.

  On the surface, she was gracious and thoughtful. But Sara knew that she thought more about herself and her family than anyone else.

  Bill was at her side, the perfect host to her perfect hostess. Yet Sara was sure that he’d told his wife about meeting her at the new offices. Jack might have hired her to decorate the spaces, but they were thinking it was a ploy to keep seeing her, because he didn’t want to come right out and date her. And they were already worried that Jack was getting involved with someone who didn’t meet the Morgan family’s standards.

  Or were they really worried he was getting involved with someone who would look askance at their family values? Which were pretty skewed, Sara thought. They had pots of money, which they enjoyed spending. They were also people who looked out for themselves first, and the hell with the rest of the world—unless it fell in with their plans.

  If they gave to charities, it was a calculated move to show themselves in a good light. Those assessments might be cynical for people she’d just met. But it wasn’t really for the first time. She’d had plenty of opportunity to observe the Morgans and think about their tactics.

  When she saw her older son, Carolyn signaled to her husband, and they detached themselves from their group and came over.

  “You’ve already met Dad,” Jack said. “This is my mother, Carolyn Morgan.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Where are you from?” Carolyn asked.

  “I grew up right here in Howard County. I went to Howard High School.”

  While they were talking to the elder Morgans, Dick MacDonald, the broker, joined the conversation. Sara thought of him as a salesman type, always trying to make the most of his social contacts.

  He was in his mid-fifties and looked like he’d lost his hair early, then had transplants. His complexion was ruddy, and Sara suspected that he drank a bit too much, not a great trait for someone who handled other people’s money.

  “So you’re self-employed,” he said when she told him what she did.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you thought about preparing for your retirement?”

  “I’ve thought about it, but right now I’m plowing money back into my business.”

  “If you do have some cash to spare, I’d be glad to advise you on investments with excellent returns.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be wary of any investment that was advertised to pay too much.”

  He gave her a pained look. “That’s only with…unscrupulous brokers.”

  “Well, then maybe we should talk,” she answered. He was one of the Morgans’ friends that she hadn’t gotten a handle on. She instinctively didn’t like him, but that didn’t mean he had anything against Jack.

  MacDonald had started scanning the crowd, probably looking for more likely prospects. As he headed toward an older man wearing a light summer suit, Sara heard a voice call her name and turned. It was Pam Reynolds.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” the real-estate agent said in a surprised voice.

  “Jack and I got to know each other when you were showing Ted the property.”

  “And you skipped out on me,” Pam said with a laugh.

  “It seemed like the thing to do,” Jack answered.

  Pam nodded, looking like she wished she’d snared the attention of Jack Morgan.

  “Got to talk to Ted about that property,” she said and went off to find the brother, leaving them alone until Gary Lambert, the family’s lawyer, also came
up to them. He was a man about Bill’s age, and Sara knew that the two of them had gone to college at the University of Virginia together.

  “Good to see you, Jack. Glad you’re looking so well,” he said in a hearty voice.

  “Thanks.”

  He turned to Sara. “And who is this stunning young lady?”

  She flushed as Jack introduced them.

  Last time around Sara had had some business with him, on a far less friendly basis. When she’d told the family she was pregnant with Jack’s child, Lambert had come at her with some unpleasant legal maneuvers. He might be friendly now, but she knew his affability covered a core of steel—and a stunning ruthlessness. She was praying that she wasn’t going to come up against him the way she had last time.

  They chatted for a while, before Jack asked her if she wanted something to eat.

  The buffet was in the dining room, set up on an antique sideboard and the long Chippendale table. A catering company had been hired for the evening, and uniformed attendants were busy keeping the serving dishes full and taking away used plates and cutlery.

  The food was sumptuous. Poached salmon with a dill sauce, roast beef sliced to order, chicken Marsala. One salad included marinated artichokes, olives and hearts of palm and another with sliced tomatoes, basil and fresh mozzarella. There was also asparagus with Parmesan and green beans amandine. Something for everyone.

  They made their selections then took their plates out to the patio, where candlelit tables with crisp white cloths had been set up.

  “This is quite some party,” Sara murmured.

  “Mom likes to put on the dog.”

  “‘Put on the dog.’ That’s a nice way to describe it,” she said before taking a bite of the salmon. “Excellent.”

  “Nothing but the best.”

  * * *

  JACK WAS GLAD THAT HE’D INVITED Sara to the party. She was so different from most of the people here, which reminded him how isolated he was. He took all this for granted. The food. The big house. The people. He knew them all, but he didn’t exactly fit in. Maybe he never had, which was why he’d joined the army—to make his mark in a completely different world.

  He flashed back to his last post—in Afghanistan. He’d been eating cafeteria food in a mess hall and living in a plywood room with a bunch of other guys. And if he wanted to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he had to pull on his boots and his coat. That was the hardship part. The danger part was just as pervasive. Finally he’d taken a hit. And been shipped home.

  Unfortunately, now he was remembering everything he hated about living here. Or had hated until he’d met Sara. She was a breath of fresh air in his life. And she also made him realize he was letting himself drift. He had to make a decision about his life. Did he really want to spend the next decades working for Morgan Enterprises? Or should he start organizing that program for handicapped kids?

  He was certain Sara would approve. His parents would be disappointed. Probably Ted would breathe a sigh of relief. He’d taken over a lot of the management of the company from Dad, and he didn’t love sharing it with his brother.

  What if Jack asked Ted to buy him out? How would that work? Or would he be met with resistance? He had the feeling that Ted was hiding something from him about the company. Maybe he should find out what it was before he tried to negotiate any kind of deal.

  He glanced at Sara and found her watching him.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “Deep thoughts about my life.”

  “Are you going to share them?”

  “This isn’t a good time—or place.”

  * * *

  SARA NODDED, KNOWING IT WAS a mistake to press Jack. They were at a party, where he was surrounded by people he knew. And she didn’t.

  As they ate, some of the Morgan family friends and business associates stopped by to talk. This time around, she wasn’t scrambling to keep the names and faces straight, so she had the luxury of studying them—while pretending she was only interested in social conversation.

  But she could tell that Jack was getting tired of all the people and small talk.

  “Why don’t I show you around?” he said when they’d finished some of the small pastries and coffee from the dessert table.

  After they put their plates and cups on one of the trays stationed around the terrace, Jack led her onto the lawn. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the shadows were lengthening.

  This was new. Jack hadn’t taken her onto the grounds last time around, and she was interested to see where they were going.

  “Did you like living here when you were a kid?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What did you like best?”

  “This is a big estate. It backs onto a pretty big creek. There are lots of animals. Squirrels, raccoons, foxes. Sometimes I’d come back here and sit really still, and they’d walk right by me. Ted and I had a tree house near the water. A few times we even spent the night.”

  “Your mom allowed that?”

  “She wasn’t happy, but Dad persuaded her it was safe. I wonder if it’s still there.”

  He started off downhill, and she followed. It was dark in the shade of the trees, and she stumbled a few times.

  “Maybe we should go back,” Jack said.

  She glanced up at the dim light still filtering through the trees. “No. That’s okay. I’d like to see where you played as a boy.”

  “It’s hard to tell which tree,” he muttered as he looked up at the branches.

  She tried to help, also looking up, but she was also thinking that being out here alone with Jack might give her a good opportunity to tell him about her father. Get it out in the open before his dad sat him down for a chat about her.

  He walked farther into the wooded area, and she followed.

  “Found it!” he called out.

  She was focused on how to introduce the topic and keeping her eyes on Jack’s shoulders. When her foot hit a small concrete ledge in the ground, the obstruction was totally unexpected.

  With a scream, she pitched forward, feeling the world rush away beneath her as she dropped below the level of the ground into a dark shaft. One of her shoes fell off, hitting with a splash far below her, and it flashed through her mind that this time she was the one who was going to die.

  Chapter Nine

  Tree roots broke Sara’s fall, slowing her downward tumble. She scrambled to catch one and anchor herself. Finally she hit one large enough to grab on to and came to rest, panting, her evening bag swinging against her side.

  She was in a dark shaft. As she tried to get a better grip on the root, a piece broke off and splashed into water far below.

  Above her, Jack was shouting her name, his voice frantic.

  “Sara. Oh Lord, Sara. Answer me. Sara.”

  He sounded beyond terrified. For her. But she couldn’t speak until breath returned to her lungs.

  Gulping in air, she clutched tightly to her perch. Nothing like this had happened before.

  “I’m here,” she called, hearing her voice echo up the dark shaft.

  “Sara?” He was coming closer.

  “Yes.”

  His curse rang out above her.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the old well. It’s supposed to be covered. I’d like to know why it’s not.”

  She had a good idea of the answer. Someone had thought Jack might come out here, and they’d set a trap.

  Someone who knew he would be at the party.

  The light shifted above her, and she knew he must be peering down at her.

  “How far did you fall?”

  “I’m not sure. There are tree roots. They slowed me. Then I grabbed on to a big one.”

  “Thank God.”

  “I don’t know how long it will hold.”

  “I’m going to see if I can get you.” She heard scuffling noises as he lay on the ground and reached into the well, then cursed.

  “You’re t
oo far down. I’m going for help.”

  Panic shot through her as she felt the root begin to bend under her weight. “No! I mean, I could fall before you got back.”

  Again he cursed.

  “I don’t suppose you have a rope.”

  “No. Wait…maybe I do. Hang on.”

  She had no choice about that. Grimly she clung to the root, praying that she was going to get out of here.

  Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d been living on borrowed time since she arrived back at the property Pam was showing Ted.

  She didn’t want to think that was true. But she had no idea what this fall meant.

  She struggled to remember the last time she’d been to this party and recalled that Jack had said something about taking her out here.

  But he hadn’t done it. A woman had come to him. Her brother was in Afghanistan. She’d been worried about his safety, and Jack had talked to her about conditions there.

  By the time the conversation was over, it was dark, and he’d decided it wasn’t a good idea to go beyond where the grounds were lit.

  All of that ran through her mind as she clung to the root, shifting to press her feet against the side of the well to ease the pressure on her arms. She’d lost one of her shoes in the fall, and she carefully slipped the other one off so that her feet would balance against the rough surface of the well’s interior. Miraculously, her purse was still dangling from her shoulder.

  She had thought Jack would be right back, but as the seconds ticked by she began to fear something had happened to him. Maybe the person who had taken the cover off the well had ambushed Jack out here.

  She bit her lip to keep from calling out. If someone else was out there, she didn’t want to give herself away.

  Could she get out of here herself? She didn’t think so.

  After an eternity, Jack finally called down to her. “Sara?”

  “I’m still here,” she answered, unable to repress a hysterical laugh.

  “Sorry I took so long. There was a rope hanging from the tree house, but I couldn’t get it down.”

  Panic bubbled inside her. “Then what?”

  “I mean I finally did. Sorry. I’m not thinking too clearly. I’m going to lower the rope to you. Tell me when you’ve got it.”