They didn't have coffee until they sat in Rod's office.
"I found the JP who married you two." Rod pushed over a piece of paper toward them. "Here's his affidavit that he married you guys five weeks and three days before Tessa's marriage to Beller. Here's his copy of the marriage certificate, too, and a signed confirmation of receipt from Births, Deaths and Marriages." He grinned. "Congratulations, guys. You're still legally married."
Neither of them looked at each other. "That's great," Tessa managed to croak, when Rod's brows lifted in silent question "Um—I mean—it's enough to give to the police, isn't it?"
Rod nodded. "It'll be enough for an investigation. It's absolute conflict of interest. It shows Earldon and Beller had more than a passing motive to have you locked up, Jirrah—and proof of their prior knowledge in your committing bigamy."
"Could I be arrested on any charge?" she asked, low.
"With the amount of evidence we've got on Earldon and Beller, no one will believe you were in on it. Besides, there are too many independent witnesses who state you weren't exactly a radiant bride when you married Beller." He smiled quizzically. "Did you really cry all the way through the ceremony?"
Her mouth twitched, feeling Jirrah's assessing gaze on her "I was pregnant with Emily. It was an emotional time, being only five weeks after…" She gulped, fighting to keep control. "How did they get the marriage certificate wiped from the records?"
"The police will look into it, but we might never know."
Jirrah spoke for the first time. "I want to take this stuff in now, before Earldon and Beller get the cops on to us."
She flinched. He'd aimed that at her. Yes, he'd made fantastic love to her in the shower—but he'd barely spoken to her since, and she knew she'd hurt him. Torn between her fear of hurting him and her terror of getting in too deep, she maintained the silence. She had to tell him the truth behind her withdrawal—not physical, but the emotional wall she kept between them. Just a few simple words she couldn't bring herself to say, that would explain everything.
"I—can't—"
"…if you just hang on for a day," Rod was saying. "I'm waiting for some evidence to come in about Emily."
"If you need help, call in an investigator."
"Jirrah, you know from last time our resources are limited."
He handed Rod a blank cheque. "The resources in that come to half a million dollars. Spend what you need to find my daughter."
Rod gaped. "What's the deal?"
"I'm Dolphin Art," Jirrah replied tersely. "Take whatever you need to find her, Rod. Don't ask. Just do it."
"You're Dolphin Art?" Rod gaped still. "But—but Jirrah—Dolphin Art's famous internationally! Investors and collectors commission his carvings and paintings from all over the world!"
Jirrah grinned then. "Not bad for a guy who learned the craft in lockup, is it?"
"Crikey. Whoever invented the term 'life's a roller coaster' must've known you, mate." Rod shook his head. "I think I can get a handle on who adopted her without the money." He shuffled more papers. "Let's get a warrant on Beller and Earldon's offices. We need to get on to this ASAP, before they can hide evidence."
"Any evidence they have won't he there, if I know them."
Rod looked at Tessa with intelligence and respect. "Yes? Any ideas on where they'd put the stuff?"
"I think everything will be either at Duncan's Kirribilli apartment, or our safe-deposit box at the Sydney bank." Her mouth twisted. "They feel powerful, keeping evidence that can destroy their careers and put them in prison, and no one can touch them."
Rod nodded. "Okay. We'll go for the warrant tomorrow—"
"If I'm right, we won't need to bother."
Jirrah's mouth twisted. "What is it you're not saying?"
"Give me a minute—please." She closed her eyes, hating the lingering guilt inside her. Now or never, Tessa. "Duncan lives at the Kirribilli apartment, but it's mine. Dad bought it as an investment for me when I was little. I'm also part owner of the safe-deposit box. So we can go in, unless they changed the locks—and I don't think they'd have bothered, since they wouldn't remember I have these." She pulled a set of keys from her bag.
Rod and Jirrah both stared at her in amazement.
"It's legal for me to enter my apartment—to bring friends—isn't it? I never sublet it to Duncan—he pays no rent. There's nothing in writing. It's a private family arrangement. And no one can stop me looking in the safe-deposit box, can they?"
"No," Rod answered, looking dazed. "If you own the apartment and he never signed a contract, you're entitled to enter as the owner. And the box is in your name. You can open it whenever you want." Then he whooped. "Let's go now, while Earldon's at work."
Jirrah said, "Don't go, Rod. Earldon will cause trouble for you. There's nothing he can do to me he hasn't already done."
Another challenge he'd thrown at her. Tessa lifted her chin "He's right. If you came with us, he'd take the case to the media. A member of the Aboriginal Legal Service committing felonious acts on innocent barristers, etc. They'd lap it up."
"Fair enough," Rod murmured, sounding wistful. "By the way, did you know Beller's gone for Parliament preselection at a national level? I found out yesterday."
She shrugged. "It's no surprise. It's one of the reasons why he wanted to many me in the first place. He has the money, but it's middle-class money. His father was self-made, obsessed with getting his son into high society. That's why he got into plastic surgery. But Cameron needed the Earldon name to pave the way. He was always manic about getting in with the right people."
"So that's why Beller's so keen to shut you both up," Rod replied. "It still surprises me that he's acting on this himself. Why not send hired guns on this?"
"Hate," Jirrah said quietly. "When he found out I was near Tess he went berserk. He's been obsessed with her since she was a kid, and not just for her name. He can't stand losing her."
"He wouldn't want me to know Emily's alive. She's something of me he can't own or control, and it drives him crazy. He's always had to have complete possession of me." She rose to go. "We'd better make a start on the searches."
Jirrah rose, and opened the door for her.
"Go on ahead." She turned away from him. "I need to talk to Rod. I'll catch up in a minute."
He didn't move for a moment, and she knew she'd moved her face too late; he'd seen the desperate resolution trying to fight the prompting of her guilt-filled heart. "Tess, don't do anything you'll regret later. That's what I'm here for. I'm good at that."
Then he walked through the door.
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
She hopped in the car within three minutes. "Let's go."
They were silent until after he'd started the car. Then he said, sounding more sincere than he had all morning. "Thanks, Tess. I know how hard it was for you to show us those keys."
She nodded, trying not to give in to the pain she felt.
"Where should we head first? The apartment or the bank?"
"Duncan's like Cameron—he likes personal control." She gazed straight ahead. "And if Dad doesn't know about all this, Duncan wouldn't put the evidence where my father would find it."
"So we go to the apartment, then."
"Yep."
"Tess, I'm sorry for being such a bastard in there. I know you're going through a lot for me, but this morning—"
"Don't," she broke in wearily. "I know you're sorry, okay? So am I. Let's not talk about it. Let's go look for the evidence."
He rubbed his forehead, his mouth tight and hard. "Which way to the apartment?"
She directed him in as few words as possible.
She opened the door a few minutes later. "Wait. I'll turn off the surveillance cameras. It's best if he has no evidence you were ever here. Unless he's changed the numbers, it's his and Cameron's birth dates," she muttered, working on the motherboard. With a quiet click, the cameras went into shutdown. "Come on in."
"Not really." She shrugged. "He's not gay, if that's what you're thinking. He's just—empty, somehow. I can't explain it, but having someone to worship fills whatever it is that's missing inside him. Cameron saved his life in a rowing accident at Parkes College when he was fifteen, and he's been his hero since—and Cameron works hard at keeping up the faith. That's why Duncan was so set on my marrying Cameron. Keeping him in the family, as well as giving me the life he thinks I must want." Her mouth twisted.
Duncan's apartment was typical of his fanatical nearness and precision. Not a speck of dust lay on his antique furniture. The carpet was pristine white, the walls pale-washed blue. Sunlight streamed in the mellow bay windows from pulled-back velvet curtains. Cool, understated elegance. "Nice place," he commented.
"You look in here. I'll take the study and bedrooms." She turned back at the door. "I don't want to be here longer than half an hour. Make sure you put everything where it was, or he might call the police on you."
He nodded tensely, scanning the shelves in the living room, pulling books out, replacing them. But though they pulled the place to pieces, opening drawers, looking under beds and sofas, even in the seat chest beneath the bay window, there was nothing. Tessa slumped on the seat she'd just searched. "I was so sure…"
"Does he have a safe here?" Jirrah sounded frustrated.
"Yes. I won't touch it, though. It could be alarmed, and the safe isn't mine. That is trespass."
"Looks like we head for the bank."
She frowned, shaking her head. "I'll be surprised if there's anything in it. If…" Her face twisted. "If Dad doesn't know about all this, why take the risk he'd find out?"
"If he doesn't know, it wouldn't make sense."
She stiffened. "Do you always try and condemn everyone without a hearing, or is it only members of my family you hate so much?"
"At least I didn't trump up a charge against them, fill their house and car with fake evidence to put them away!" he flashed.
She turned aside, hating that he was right.
"Tess, it's time you faced the facts," he said, very quiet. "Your father had to be in on Emily's adoption. He was there. The midwife said they all told her those lies. If he'd adopt his own granddaughter out, would he stop at having me put inside?"
She could find nothing to say in response to that, either.
He sighed, running a hand through his curls. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's not like I'm an uninvolved bystander in all this, and I'm just making you feel worse. I'm sorry, I—"
"Stop it," she burst out suddenly. "Stop saying that all the time. Don't say sorry. Don't be sorry. He never was—none of them were ever sorry! Let's get the damn evidence and find Emily. Clear you name. Have the life you want. Buy your dog, get your driver's license and carpenter's license, use your name, see you family. And while you're at it, find a new wife and start on your half-dozen kids, so you can get the hell out of my life!"
The silence was absolute.
After a few minutes, she passed a hand over her eyes and said wearily, "I didn't mean that."
"Yeah, you did." He walked to the window, looking out over the bright reflections of Sydney Harbour, the ferries and ships sailing beneath the Harbour Bridge. "Let's be honest. You hate everything I'm doing. You hate knowing that you wouldn't stop me if you could. Your sense of justice won't let you interfere."
Her head fell. Oh, yes, he still knew her, all right.
"You can't forgive me for knowing you well enough to play on that." His fists balled in his pockets. "I respect you for not trying to stop me. But we both know all we have is another day, maybe two." He wouldn't look at her. "If you're angry now, you'll blame me, even hate me, once they're arrested. But for Emily's sake, you have to hide it." Standing in the refracted light from the sun-dappled water, he looked tense, beautiful, so tired, and years older than thirty-one. "Can you do that?"
"Yes. For Emily's sake, anything." But she knew with absolute certainty she could never hate him, or blame him for his vendetta. Her family took his life from him—and maybe from others. Someone had to stop this mad crusade of theirs to keep their little world of power intact.
She just wished it didn't have to be him, and she didn't have to help him to do it; but Jirrah was right. She wouldn't stop now if she could. No one else knew her father, Duncan and Cameron as she did. All the little things, like—
She gasped, clicking her fingers. "That's it. I know where he's hidden the stuff!" She ran to the muted cream bedroom. "Help me lift this. No, not the whole bed, just the top mattress."
He lifted it up for her, and she groped along the base of the top mattress through the bedclothes. "When he was a kid he'd hide his issues of Playboy and dirty pictures here. He had a thing for long legs and big busts and tanned blondes."
"Who didn't?" he replied dryly. "The usual boy's fantasy."
"Yes," she retorted, "but then he graduated to hiding his debts here. He went through a casino phase. You know, poker and stuff. He hid his IOUs in this place, too."
Jirrah grinned. "You seem to know all about his addictions."
"Bet your sister does about you, too. Little sisters are the pits." She grimed, still groping around. "We girls love getting dirty details on our brothers so they'll take us places or stop teasing us."
He laughed. "Yeah, Leslie always knew what I got up to. She must have crawled around in my room, too."
She wiggled her brows. "Even if we never use it, oh, it's a powerful feeling, knowing your brother's secrets…" A crackling sound interrupted her. "I knew it!" She tugged at the hollowed-out cavity she'd found right in the center of the top mattress.
A sheaf of papers fluttered around her as she fell backward, landing with a thump on her bottom. "Woo-hoo! Yee-hah. We did it!" she cried, throwing the papers in the air.
"Whoa, Tess. We don't know what you found yet," he laughed. "We could be about to see more of Duncan's big-boobed blondes."
She pulled a face. "Ick." She grabbed a stapled sheaf of papers, and scanned the top line of the front page.
"Jackpot! It's the butt of the fifty-thousand-dollar cheque he gave me." Jirrah lifted up a small rectangle of paper. "And these are the detective's notes about where you went after you left—Tess?" He dropped to his knees beside her. "What is it?"
She still stared at her handful, shaking so hard she couldn't lift her arm to show him the top page. "Emily's birth certificate and the original permission for adoption papers."
He looked at the page. "Emily Anne Beller. Mother, Theresa Rachel Beller. Father unknown," he read, without expression.
She flipped the page to the original permission to adopt. "It is my signature," she whispered.
He nodded. "Beller wouldn't have bothered to leave one for me if it was a forgery. I might have picked up the differences."
"They drugged me and talked me into signing this, knowing I wouldn't remember later."
"More likely they said you were signing something else, like hospital release forms," he suggested.
She frowned. "I—remember them mentioning that…" Her eyes filled with slow, wondering horror. "Wanting me to marry Cameron I could understand. A rich man who fitted into their world, who they loved. But Emily … m-my baby … they said they loved me…"
Seeing the unbearable pain threatening to overwhelm her, he took her in his arms, rocking her.
She shook her head, clinging to him. "I feel so alone."
And she was. Because of him, the only woman he'd ever loved was about to lose her entire world.
He'd been so certain he was doing what was right—but what if they didn't find Emily? He'd have his life back—and Tessa's would shatter for the third time in six years. Because she'd met him. Because she'd loved him once.
He couldn't stop the tide now. He owed it to his family, to Emily, to himself, to all the others the Earldons and Beller might
cheat of their lives in the future, or had already cheated. It was justice, pure and simple.
But Tess was paying the highest price for that justice.
"Ah, mulgu." He kept rocking her as she lay dry-eyed in his arms. "I'm here, Tess. I won't leave you."
"Yes, you will," she whispered. "No promises, Jirrah." She pulled out of his arms. "We'd better fix the bed and get out of here." She picked up the scattered mess of papers and started tugging at the skewed mattress. "No, I'm fine here," she added as he moved to help her. "Check out what else you can use before we put the rest back. I'll manage this on my own."
And in her calm acceptance of her empty future, she'd never looked more beautiful. Or more alone.
He wanted to reassure her, to take her in his arms and kiss her pain away; but he was the cause of her anguish. He'd started this. He had to see it through to the finish.
He'd be damned if he'd leave her suffering like this; but while they were amid the reminders of Duncan's betrayals, he'd play things her way.
"Let's go," he said tersely, when all was back in order. "We can't do any more here."
"I'll just reset the camera. You wait outside—"
A key turned in the lock. Tess paled; her golden-eyed gaze fixed on the turning knob, hands fiddling with her bag.
Jirrah steeled himself. If Beller was with Duncan—
The man who stepped inside was alone. Though nine years older, he held an amazing resemblance to his sister: tall, dark-haired, golden-eyed and lithe of build. But the exotic, slightly crooked charm of face, and unnerving honesty in the golden gaze that made Tessa so unique just wasn't there for Duncan Earldon. It never had been. His face wasn't weak, or shifty, or crafty. Nothing so blatant. He could look any man in the eye as he spoke. What was missing inside Duncan was something indefinable: the depth of soul, the inner fire and spirit Tess had in abundance. She was alive in a way Duncan Earldon would never know.
"Well, well. I wondered why the surveillance system went off. Good morning, Theresa. Slumming it, are we?" her brother drawled. "A spot of breaking and entering in line with present company."
Her Galahad Page 15
