“I’m not a bloody corporation! Quinn’s not a bottom line. She’s my own blood.” Nick swayed with sheer rage coursing through his veins. He ran his hands through his hair and began to pace. He shook his head in Reese’s direction. “You must think the worst of me. But I swear I knew nothing about this.”
Reese took a controlled deep breath of his own to calm down. “That might be, Mr. Tyler. But your neglecting Quinn all those years is on you. Had you bothered to visit her even once a year, you’d have known about this entire scam. You’d have been aware of her early years, known what she had to deal with, what she was up against for yourself. That little girl sent you Father’s Day cards.”
He shot a look at Gerald Baines before turning to Nick. “Did you know that? She waited for a phone call from you, or as she put it, a one-line note that never came, any sign that you might possibly have taken an interest in her from one year to the next. Nothing ever came, Mr. Tyler. And that’s on you. You can blame your lawyer all you want, but one visit in twenty-five years hardly rates a plus when you acted as though she didn’t exist the other twenty-two.”
Nick briefly hung his head but then snapped back like he’d just thought of something. “Go over the file. You have my permission to dig as deep as you need to, find out what the hell is happening here. Why does my own daughter believe this Ella Canyon is her mother?”
“Believe me, I intend to find out. I’ll need copies of everything in the file. I’ll give the originals back to you. And gentlemen, I’m hoping you’re here in L.A. to enjoy all the sights and sounds our city has to offer until we get this thing figured out.”
Nick nodded. “I’m staying put…” He eyed Baines with open disgust before adding, “until I know exactly what went on here, I’m not leaving.”
“Good.” Reese intended to make another point. “And one more thing, our side would like a new DNA test, just to be sure.”
Gerald Baines took one look at his client and without hesitation agreed, “I think that’s a good idea. What do you think happened here, Mr. Brennan?”
“You’re asking me? You need to tell me everything you know about this Ross Jennetti and I want the truth. Where and when did you get him involved with Ella Canyon?”
Gerald glanced at his longtime mate, Nick. “You mean Lisa Redfield. Ross Jennetti married Lisa Redfield. At least that’s what I was told. Jennetti came recommended to me through another client. The man was to keep an eye on both the child as well as the mother, keep the expenses down, the amount of extra money needed to a bare minimum.”
Nick let out a groan. “That’s it, Gerald. We’re done. We get this mess straightened out and I don’t want you anywhere near my family ever again. Is that clear? You work with Brennan here, cooperate fully with him until this thing has a solution, then fly back to Dublin, clean out your offices so there’s nothing to ever remind me of you. Because I never want to see your sorry lying face again.”
“Nick, you can’t mean that? We’ve known each other for almost forty years.”
“That’s right. Funny how you think you know someone like a brother and then find out what a lying bastard he is.” With that, Nick turned and left the room.
In all Reese’s years of practicing law, he’d been involved with some strange cases. He’d had his share of odd clients, a few eccentric shady characters even. But this, this thing with the Boyd Boyd Geller & Gatz law firm was turning out to be the topper on the cake, one for the record books.
Gerald took out a handkerchief, wiped beaded sweat off his forehead again. “I thought I was looking out for him.”
Reese wasn’t interested. Instead, he got the focus back on details. “Okay. Start at the beginning. Tell me what you know about Jennetti.”
When Nick Tyler left the conference room he went to the men’s room and then walked back out to a plush waiting area where a middle-aged receptionist sat behind a computer.
“Did you happen to see where the woman with the long black hair went earlier when she stormed out of the conference room?”
“You mean the Native American girl? She’s in Mr. Brennan’s office. Would you like me to tell her you’re out here?”
Did he? What would he say to her? Good God, no wonder she hated him. How had twenty-two years gone by without him getting in touch with his own flesh and blood? And what the hell had happened to Lisa Redfield? Were Lisa and Ella Canyon one and the same woman? They had to be. It was the only thing that made sense.
And what had his inattentiveness over the years done to an innocent child who now obviously hated his very existence? If he ever got his hands on this Jennetti character, he’d beat the man senseless.
When the receptionist kept eyeing him strangely, waiting for an answer, Nick simply shook his head, walked to the door, threw it open, and trudged outside, overcome with an emotion he didn’t care to share with anyone.
Later, to Reese’s amazement, Quinn hadn’t gone far.
When he opened the door to his office, Quinn stood behind his desk, back steel-straight, looking out of his office window at the traffic below down on Westlake Boulevard.
When she turned around he saw big, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It was then Reese’s heart rolled over in his chest. “I’m sorry. I owe you an apology.”
She took a deep breath, exhaled shakily. “Yes, you do. Bringing him here without telling me was—wrong on so many levels. Coming here expecting…it doesn’t matter. You lied. But your meddling brought me to a confrontation I’ve wanted to have for years. I want so badly to blame you for bringing him here but… I can’t. I’ve needed this for more years than I know what to do about. I’ve said all of those things to him in my head, or acted them out in front of a mirror, countless times. It needed to be said no matter how badly I might have embarrassed myself or you.”
“You didn’t. Not me,” he said, incredibly grateful she wasn’t still furious with him.
“In fact, you exploded with the rage I wanted to show. You have every right to be upset, angry. But honey, there are things you need to know because as this thing moves forward, you need to keep one thing in mind. If Jessica Boyd was involved in this whole mess, you probably need to expect some kind of fraud occurred. It seems good ol’ Jess was in charge of the money. What have we learned these past two months about Jessica and money?”
“She and Alana always found a way to plot and scheme for more.”
“Exactly. The minute Jessica’s name came up in there, the second I saw her signature on the paperwork in the file, I smelled scam and still do.”
But he needed proof, hence the file he intended to examine in its entirety as soon as he had the chance. And he would take advantage of having Tyler and Baines here to walk him through the question that still lingered. Were Lisa Redfield and Ella Canyon one and the same person? And if so, why the name change? Why become a prostitute when she had a ready-made income of ten grand a month? Addiction aside, had she gone through a million dollars during the first years of Quinn’s life?
“Do you want me to tell you what I learned about Ross Jennetti?”
She surprised him by laughing. “How about if I tell you what I know about the man? After all, I lived with the sleazebag for eight years.”
“During any one of those years did you know Ella Canyon or rather Lisa Redfield was set up? Baines put Jennetti in place here in Beverly Hills for the sole purpose of being Gerald’s gatekeeper, to keep an eagle eye on Tyler’s money.”
Eyeing the look on her face, he suggested, “Maybe you should take a seat, honey.”
“That bad, huh?”
He repeated what Baines had told him and then when she started to protest, he added, “That wasn’t Nick’s idea by the way, it was Gerald’s.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you weren’t in the room and didn’t witness for yourself Nick’s reaction. He was so upset he fired Baines on the spot. He’s either a very good actor or he didn’t know about Jennetti’s involvement until today. Look,
the ten grand a month was a lot coming in, and Baines wanted someone on the inside to keep an eye on Jessica, mainly because he thought she was milking the attorney in charge at the time, some guy named Portman. When Baines took over for an aging Portman, he slipped Jennetti into the picture.”
“You’re saying Ross was never his record producer? Ever?”
“I’m not saying it. That’s what Nick claims. It’s easy enough to verify.”
“But you have another theory.”
How was she always able to peg him so fast? “Yeah, I do. My guess is Jennetti was working both sides of the deal. While keeping a tight fist on the ten grand every month he also must have been working Jessica Boyd for some reason.”
“You mean blackmail?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking. But we need answers before we make that leap.”
“Yeah, Brennan couldn’t possibly take a leap in logic.” She shot him a disgusting look before adding, “Maybe Nick’s lying about Jennetti being his record producer. Maybe he knew the entire time.”
“Why would he lie about that, Quinn?”
“Because he’s a scumbag who can’t remember the underage girl he knocked up when she was fifteen years old!”
Seeing the dubious look on Reese’s face, she took a breath. “I don’t know. But I still don’t understand, Reese. If it’s true that Rock Star sent all that money, then why did we live such a meager existence for so many years, destitute? Why did Ella have to hook?”
“Good question and one I’m sure Jessica could clear up for us—if she were alive. But without her, we do what we did with Alana. We dig into Ella Canyon’s past. By hacking into the firm’s database, Jake and Dylan got us access to their records. Until now we had no need to look up anything other than the obvious financial records we were interested in getting. But now…this is an entire other avenue we have yet to explore. We’ll go through everything until we get to the bottom of this, Quinn. I promise you that.”
For some reason, she believed him.
But when Reese looked into Quinn’s moist eyes and his heart did a lurch he decided Tyler was also here for one other important purpose. This woman needed tangible family, flesh and blood, a connection to her past no matter how much she denied wanting it.
She also needed this time to resolve her issues with the Rock Star, if indeed he turned out to be her father. This would be a perfect time to do that. But he needed to know proof of paternity as a starting point.
“Honey, you’re going to need to take another DNA test, the sooner the better. I can arrange that right now…”
She sighed heavily again. “I know.” When his arms went around her, she laid her head on his shoulder. “How is it the asshole can’t even remember my mother?”
It was Reese’s turn to puff out a breath. “I don’t know but keep an open mind, okay, Quinn? Now, let’s go take care of that DNA test.”
While Quinn got her mouth swabbed at a nearby lab, Reese phoned Jordan Donovan.
“I need you to find me everything you can on a Lisa Redfield. And while you’re at it, get me everything on Ella Canyon. They might be one and the same person. But something tells me they are two different people entirely. I’ll e-mail you the two supposed birth dates for both women when I get back to the office. But remember, they, too, may not be real. You’ll need to think outside the box. Clearly finding out this info takes precedence over anything else.”
“Good, because that other matter you wanted me to take care of is coming up a big, fat zero. No one has seen or heard from Ross Jennetti in more than three years. And the house in Beverly Hills was sold around that same time.”
“Let me guess, Alana Stevens handled the real estate sale.”
“The one and only. And Jessica Boyd acted as notary and witness. Her name appears on the papers for the sale of the house.”
“Interesting,” Reese agreed. “Make sure you keep digging. Something tells me if Jessica Boyd was Lisa Redfield’s attorney, it didn’t end well.”
“Really? Well, here’s something else to consider. Public records say Ross Jennetti and Ella Canyon were never married. I’ll do a felony search as well as a background check, see if I get any hits.”
“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. These lies are built on top of lies. Jennetti was no stepfather to Quinn. Dig deep, Jordan. There’s bound to be more we haven’t uncovered.”
CHAPTER 20 Book 3
With a fever of a one-hundred-and-two degrees, Trevor drifted in and out of a state of consciousness. Dreaming about a happier time always brought him back to a cozy little house he shared with his wife, Nelia, and their little daughter, Annie.
He’d brought Nelia there to the cottage in Dalkey, a small seaside village outside Dublin as a newlywed where she could settle in and give birth to his child.
He hadn’t realized until he’d held that tiny fragile bundle in his own arms how Annie would change his outlook on life and ultimately how he made his living.
But that’s exactly what that tiny thing had done. Annie had made him want to be a better man.
He remembered every minute of walking the floor with her, her little face scrunched up red and fussy, how he’d quieted her with the Irish lullabies from his gran.
Memories of sitting outside on a sun-dappled front porch holding his Nelia next to him all the while little Annie dozed in her crib felt like a lifetime ago. Or maybe it had all happened to someone else.
There were times he could still smell the fresh, spring flowers Nelia had cut and arranged in fat jars she lined up along the edge of the veranda, flowers Nelia had clipped from her own beautiful sunny garden. She’d loved growing her own things, had loved growing herbs and spices and vegetables of all kinds.
Had a knack for it she did.
He used to tease her about her ability to grow anything. And how her green thumb hadn’t extended into the kitchen, for his Nelia had been the worst cook he’d ever known. Could barely boil water and prepare a decent cup of tea.
But his Nelia had been a wonderful mother.
He remembered his beautiful blonde Nelia standing at the stove, laughing, and how her smile had been as wide as the Shannon River. Annie had her mother’s smile and her silver blonde hair, locks that had glistened in the sunshine, sunshine that always drifted in from the bank of windows in their little kitchen.
Nelia would often take Annie out to sit under the wild cherry tree in the backyard of the little house, especially in the spring when the branches burst full of pinkish blossoms.
Nelia had loved that tree and the way it had budded out with fragrant buds destined to become the wild cherries they would pick and give away to the neighbors.
Those fading snapshots of his life back then were all he had now. He’d been clinging to those snapshots for decades.
That and the smell of cherry blossoms took him back to a happier day, a day of picnicking spread out on a blanket, on grass so green he could still smell clover. They had a favorite place, a sunny patch of hillside where the baby could run around after butterflies to catch while he and Nelia made out under the brilliant blue sky.
But there had been no blue sky the day they’d both died.
That day, torrential rains had poured out of the black clouds as if the gods themselves had known what was about to happen.
If it had been a mere accident, it might have gone down better for him. But he had known the minute he’d heard what had happened. They’d taken their revenge on his wife and child.
Three days after the car had exploded in a fiery heap and crashed over a cliff into the sea, he’d gone after the people responsible, hunted them down, one by bloody one.
Trevor woke in a sweat in Gloria’s arms.
“You were tossing and turning,” she said as she grabbed a wet washcloth from the nightstand. She began to dab his face.
When he’d fallen asleep, she’d been sitting by the side of his bed. He needed to put a stop to this and tell her to get the hell away f
rom him.
He stilled her hand. “Must you do that?” Annoyed that she’d watched him in sleep, he added, “Do you intend to sit with me all bloody day? What happens if I need to take a piss?”
“You’re still running a fever. You were talking in your sleep, talking about Nelia and Annie. I’m sorry you lost them.”
“I didn’t fucking lose them.” He shot her a scornful look.
“I know. I lost my Morty. He had a heart attack. I’m sorry you’re so unhappy.”
Trevor rolled his eyes. “Unhappy? I exterminate people—for a living—and I’m bloody happy about it, too.”
Just as derisive, Gloria remarked, “Nasty will only get you more days in bed. If you want to sulk and be moody and let your fever get higher, just say so and I’ll leave you to taking care of yourself. And if you need to take a piss, I’ll get one of the men to help you to the bathroom. You’ve only to risk finding a few decent words and ask.”
“Fine. I take care of myself and have for quite some time now.”
“And doing such a good job of it, too,” she snapped.
“I was…until I got involved in this mess.”
“Anyone who got near Alana Stevens and Jessica Boyd was subject to…their wrath and all manner of bad things happening.” She huffed out a breath. “Why are you being so difficult anyway?”
“Me?”
“Look, if it weren’t for you, Kit would already be dead by now. Sarah wouldn’t be snuggled in her crib at the moment asleep like a little angel, and look at me; I might yet live to see grandchildren.”
At the prospect of that she did a little happy dance standing right next to his bed. “Because of you I’ll get to meet my son for the first time tomorrow. Tomorrow’s the big day.”
His cheeks colored as if he’d been smacked.
She reached over and took his face between both of her hands. “Well, look at that, I’m embarrassing you. Imagine that, such a tough guy shows he’s softhearted.”
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