by Tessa Teevan
The words are a whisper, and as tears form in her eyes, I cross the room until I’m directly in front of her. “Brie, you experienced a trauma there. It’s no surprise you’ve blocked out memories from that house. Not after…”
She rests her forehead against my chest for a brief moment then looks up at me. “I know. I know you’re right. I just… I hate that I’ve forgotten anything about them. That their deaths ruined what was once the happiest place on Earth for me.”
My thumbs brush away the tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I know, baby. Once this is over, you can truly put it behind you, until only the good memories remain. And I’ll be there with you, every step of the way. No matter what.”
She nods, sniffing, then clears her throat. “Anyway, I remembered,” she says and I just raise an eyebrow and nod slightly, indicating for her to continue. “The Terrace at the Seaside, Sainte-Adresse. It was one of my mother’s favorites paintings. In fact, my parents honeymooned in France and she insisted they visit Sainte-Adresse just because of how the painting made her feel. Dad was head over heels, a goner for his new bride, and he couldn’t say no. So they went, and well, even though it used to kill me to know this, it’s where I was conceived.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “Of course you were.”
Brie laughs. “I know. Part of me always thought it was so romantic, but at the same time, I was a teenager and the thought of my parents doing that?” She shudders then collects herself. “On their first anniversary, my father gifted her with a hand-painted reproduction of the painting. His story is she immediately hung it in the dining room so, anytime she was eating, she was transported all the way back there. As if she were in a posh café, enjoying brunch and tea by the seaside.” She has a wistful smile on her face.
I cross to her, slide my arms around her waist, and gaze down at her. “I wish I could have met her,” I whisper softly.
Brie smiles up at me with tears in her eyes. “I wish that, too. She would’ve loved you.”
She leans over and grabs a tissue from the nightstand, wiping the moistness from her face. “I swear, I’m just a watering pot these days. And you still have to deal with me for two more trimesters.”
I laugh. “If the worst I have to deal with is a few tears, I’ll consider that lucky.”
My phone chimes and I glance down to see it’s Morningstar. Not wanting to ruin Brie’s good mood, I make up an excuse. “Gonna just step out and check in at the office. You good?”
She flashes a watery smile in my direction. “Yeah, I’m good.”
After a quick chat with Theo placating him, telling him Brie’s memory is coming back, I slip back into the bedroom and find Brie laying on her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. When she hears the door latch closed, she turns on her side and peers at me.
“I think I’ve remembered something else.”
With three quick strides, I’m next to the bed, eager for her to continue.
“When I was a little girl, I was terrified of even the thought of going to the dentist office. The moment we walked in the door, Mom squealed with delight. Hanging on the wall in the waiting room was a reproduction of that same painting. One that, for me, had only brought good memories. Long story short, my visit was fine, my fears assuaged, and instead of being scared of the dentist, I found the same peace there I did at home. It sounds silly, I know, but what can I say? I was a sentimental kid.”
I tilt my head to the side, the wheels turning over in my mind, trying to piece together what she’s saying.
“Do you remember where the office is?” I ask, trying not to sound as anxious as I feel.
Finally, this could be the lead we need, and more than ever, I’m determined to bring Theo down once and for all.
Brie’s eyes widen with excitement as she nods. “Yes,” she breathes. “I know exactly where we need to go.”
“Let’s do it.”
I CAN’T BELIEVE I forgot.
It could be the pregnancy. The fear. The not knowing what we’re going to face each and every day. I’m so tired of crying. So tired of being emotional. I’m just…exhausted from all of it.
I’m practically racing out the door when Rafe catches me and pulls me into his broad, muscled chest. Large hands squeeze my waist, and excitement flutters in my belly when he leans in and brushes heated lips against mine, such a soft caress that I barely feel the touch.
God, I will never get used to this man. To his kisses. To anything. I long for the day when I can call him all mine and not have to share him with Theo Morningstar.
“You’re at my side the entire time. Got it?” he growls.
Shivers run down my spine at both the possession and refuge in his tone. I nod. “Got it.”
The drive to Dr. Buchwalter’s office is…informative. Rafe’s more talkative than he’s ever been before. In fact, I’m surprised he’s telling me about his childhood: his parents, his brother, and how he loved growing up in Ohio and wouldn’t mind settling there one day, as long I’m okay with it. He’d like to be close to his parents, especially after the baby’s born, which is a nice thought. If my parents were still here, I’d want to raise my child close to them. The idea of giving my baby a family through Rafe is a heartwarming one. I have no ties to Chicago—or Philadelphia for that matter—anymore. So if Rafe wants to move to Ohio, I say Go Buckeyes.
He continues talking and I’m more than willing to sit back and listen. I have no idea if he’s trying to keep us both distracted from what answers may possibly lie ahead; I just know I’m committing every single word to memory.
He’s mid-story, regaling me with a tale about how he and his little brother got lost in a corn maze, when I see the familiar town square.
“Rafe!” I interrupt, grabbing his arm and pointing to a small parking lot. “Park there.”
He does as he’s told. The car is barely in park when I hop out. Rafe follows then gives me a stern look, gazing down at my belly.
“I know you’re eager, babe,” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, “but you’re carrying precious cargo.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I know. I know. I’ll think before I leap next time.”
Rafe’s laughter echoes around us. “That’s all I ask. So…where are we headed?”
I take his hand, pulling him with me and leading him to the front entrance of Dr. Buchwalter’s office.
Or what was once his office.
My heart falls as I take in the sight of what used to be my favorite dentist’s office. Only it’s all wrong. The sign on the door indicates it’s now a title and licensing office.
“This…this is wrong.” I glimpse up at Rafe, who’s frowning at me. “He must’ve retired sometime in the past five years.”
I sit on the stoop, crestfallen. I didn’t realize just how much I need this clue, how much I need for this to be all over. And yet, the answers are still firmly out of my grasp.
Feeling dejected, I brush my bangs out of my eyes and glance around the square. That’s when I see it: a bronzed statue in the median of the road, erected directly across from where I’m sitting. It depicts a robust man riding atop a powerfully gallant stallion. His figure aims a bow and arrow at an unknown foe off in the distance. My heartbeat quickens as my gaze follows the arrow’s direction. Then my eyes widen as Rafe snaps his fingers and points in the same direction.
“Law office,” we say in perfect unison.
My hands tremble as they turn the knob on the large, wooden door leading into the private practice of Charles Wentworth, a name that is not familiar to me in the slightest. A chime echoes through the air when we step through, and Rafe silently closes the door behind us.
“Welcome to the office of Charles Wentworth,” a pleasant woman with graying hair greets us from the reception desk. “I’m Vivian Wentworth. How may I help you today?”
I clear my throat to speak, but Rafe beats me to it. A moment later, I realize why.
“Hi. I’m Alexander
Montgomery, and this is my wife. We’re here to see Mr. Wentworth.”
Vivian eyes him suspiciously then turns to her computer. The seconds tick by in agony as I hear clicking sounds. When she turns back to us, the expression on her face is calm.
“I don’t believe he’s expecting you.”
Rafe clears his throat. “Ah, no, of course not. This is a last-minute situation. I assure you we’ll only take a moment of his time, but it is urgent.”
She purses her lips but picks the phone up and informs the man I assume to be her husband of our arrival. A few moments later, another office door opens and out walks a tall, salt-and-pepper-haired gentleman with his lips formed into a tight, grim line.
A line that immediately breaks out into a smile the moment he sets his gaze on me. He stops in his tracks and simply stares for a moment before Vivian clears her throat.
“Charles?”
“Vivian, the Argenteuil file.”
Her eyes widen right along with mine. This cannot be a coincidence.
Rafe’s hand, which was rubbing circles on the small of my back, stills instantly. Our eyes meet, and I know he’s had the same thought as me. He’s remembered the painting from the museum in Philadelphia. The one I couldn’t take my eyes off of.
This is it. It has to be. This is where my father meant for us to come.
Mr. Wentworth turns slightly then gestures towards us. “Folks, if you could follow me, we’ll have a bit of a chat while Vivian retrieves what you’re here for.”
Instead of taking us to the office from which he’d just emerged, he leads us down a set of stairs to a steel door. We wait as he enters a passcode. Then I hear the buzzing of the inner components allowing us entry.
Once the door is secured behind us, he gestures towards a table. I glance around, feeling like I’m in some secret government office, but when my eyes fall to Rafe, it’s clear this is par for the course for him.
“I’ve never known a lawyer to have a secured facility like this,” he comments, his gaze falling on Mr. Wentworth.
But when the man doesn’t respond, I see he’s solely watching me. I feel like I should say something, but what? Finally, I’m relieved when he breaks his lengthy silence. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. That you become involved, but I should’ve known this day would eventually come.”
Rafe stiffens beside me. “Who are you and what do you know?”
He ignores Rafe. Gentle eyes bore into my mine and I squirm in my seat under such intense scrutiny.
Finally, he releases a breath. “First and foremost, you need to know, Gabriella, I am so terribly sorry for your loss. It was a tragedy the way your parents were taken from you.”
I swallow hard and nod. “Thank you, Mr. Wentworth. Umm…that means a lot.”
He beams with a warmth that reminds me of my dad. It’s unnerving, yet at the same time, it’s reassuring. There’s something about this man that makes me want to trust him.
“You should also know that your father never wanted you involved in any of this. He loved you very much and your safety was of the utmost importance to him.” His gaze darts to Rafe, the corners of his eyes turning down ever so slightly. “Of all people, you should know that.”
Rafe tenses at the stern tone of Mr. Wentworth’s voice, and when I glance to him, his jaw’s tight, his eyebrows are drawn together, and he is not at all pleased. He folds his hands and uses his forearms to lean across the table. “Who are you and what do you know?” he repeats.
“You knew my dad?” I ask, ignoring Rafe’s line of questioning.
Mr. Wentworth smiles, also ignoring the angry federal agent in the room. “Your father and I knew each other as kids. We eventually grew up and attended different colleges, set out on different paths, losing touch for many years. Until seven years ago. You see, he’d become uncomfortable with Theo Morningstar’s affairs. Unfortunately, he didn’t hide that fact in the beginning. He wanted a way out. I was helping provide that for him.” He glances at Rafe then back to me. “In a way he wasn’t sure the government would’ve been able.”
“How did we never meet?” I ask. “If you reconnected two years before they died?”
My parents held many dinner parties and I’ve never seen him or his wife before today.
“That was all part of the plan. If something ever happened to your father, they couldn’t know he was associated with a lawyer on the outside. I’d have been the first one they came to after they…” he trails off.
Rafe squeezes my hand.
I swallow hard. “I understand, Mr. Wentworth.”
Before I can ask any more questions, I hear the same buzzing from before and brace myself, unsure of what I’m about to face. I release my breath when Vivian walks through, a box in her hand. She sets it on the table, gives me a look I can only describe as full of pity, then pats her husband on the shoulder before departing.
I glance at the box, my eyebrows furrowing together. “A safety deposit box? Why did he give that to you and not leave it secured in a bank?
Mr. Wentworth clears his throat. “As I’m sure you know, Theo Morningstar is a perilous and powerful man. Your father couldn’t trust a bank to hold this. He did, however, trust me. And since you’re here, I assume it’s because you found the code.”
The code.
With everything that’s happened in the past forty-eight hours, I almost forgot about my father’s letter. The letter that set all this in motion. The whole reason we’re even here. I’m about to say as much when Rafe’s hand squeezes my thigh, which signals to let him take lead. I close my mouth and sit back in my chair, folding my hands in my lap and doing exactly what he wants, even though I’m now more eager than ever to find what exactly my father has sent me to do.
We’re one step closer to finding answers, to ending this, and even though the idea of facing that man terrifies me, I force myself to believe that this will all be worth it once we’re on the other side.
We just have to make it there first.
I’m cautiously optimistic this guy’s the real deal; that doesn’t mean I’m convinced just because he has a secure vault and claims to have known Andrew Latham. It’s just like Theo Morningstar to fake this, knowing Brie will do anything for a connection with her father. Before Brie can go spilling out the code, I place my hand on her thigh, squeezing gently. She settles, sits back, and I know my girl gets me.
I turn my gaze back to Mr. Wentworth. “How do we know you’re not working for Morningstar himself? You have the box; you need the code. You say Mr. Latham wouldn’t have wanted Brie involved, so why would you believe she has what you’re looking for?”
Wentworth’s eyes crinkle with amusement. He offers me a warm, reassuring smile then turns to Rafe. “Agent Phillips, I presume?”
I’m not caught off guard in the slightest. In fact, I’m relieved. Because if Mr. Wentworth were working with Theo Morningstar and the man knew I was an agent, I don’t think I’d still be breathing. However, I do nothing except watch him. Once again, a wry smile curves his lips, wrinkles spreading across his weathered face.
“It’s funny, finding you here together. Andrew had commented before on wishing his daughter would find a man of your character. I believe he’d much approve of your being together.”
It’s none of his business, and I have the urge to tell him so, but I resist because I have to keep this man on our side. Brie squirms next to me, and while I have the urge to comfort her, I don’t break our stare.
“If he told you of our working relationship, why did he not inform me of yours?” I already know the answer. I just need the man to confirm it.
“Surely you can figure that one out for yourself,” he says.
I’m stoic in my response. “Humor me, Wentworth.”
Finally, he lets out a breath and plays into my hand. “I was not only working on how to make a case against Theo, but also compiling enough compelling evidence for Mr. Latham to receive full immunity when this went to trial.”
> “We’d already offered him immunity. What more could you do for him?”
He gives me a droll stare. “Come on, Matthews. I imagine you’ve played this game before. I certainly have. We’ve both seen enough whistleblowers end up with heat on their backs when the government couldn’t land the big one. Yes, Latham was cooperating with you. He was also setting up his own safety net should the mighty not fall.”
Which is precisely what I figured. However, I’d have been a fool to hand over the code without at least a simple line of questioning.
Wentworth leans back in his chair. “Look, Matthews, I’m already aware of what’s in the box. It’s of no use to me now that Latham is deceased.” He grimaces when he sees the color draining from Brie’s cheeks. He clears his throat then looks back at me. “I just can’t access it. And to be honest, I don’t want to. As soon as the contents are out of my office, I’ll be able to breathe a sigh of relief I’ve been holding for quite a long time.” His gaze remains locked on mine, and I don’t miss the warning in them. “We both know dangerous people would do anything within their mighty power to get their hands on it.”
I nod then look at Brie. “Well?” I ask, wanting to take control of the situation but knowing I have to leave the ball in her court.
Her eyes water and she blinks the tears away. “My dad trusted him, Rafe. We have to trust him, too. Why else would Dad lead us here?”
She’s right, and I have to trust in her instincts.
Brie bends down to grab her purse, but she stops and rights herself. “Mr. Wentworth, if you don’t mind, could we have some privacy? I…” She rests her hand on her belly. “I’m pregnant and prone to bouts of emotion. You may know what’s in the box, but I have no clue what I’m about to uncover. And… I…I’d like to be alone, with Rafe, when I do.”
Wentworth’s eyes soften, and he gives her a nod. “Of course, Gabriella.” He glances between the two of us. “And congratulations. If something good can come from this nightmare, that’s about the best thing I can think of. Being a parent is the greatest joy I’ve ever known, and with the examples you had, I know you’ll be a fine mother.”
