Prime Suspect Page 10

  That explained why her eyes and mouth were shaped like the man sitting beside her.

  “Wait. I have a picture of him as a boy.” He went to the wall behind his desk and took down a small framed photograph.

  Darcie took it from him. A family portrait, with the mother seated and her family gathered around her. Mr. Fairmont’s father stood behind, one hand resting on his wife’s shoulder. The older boy stood next to him, and in front of Richard was Ryan. As Darcie studied the face, a tenderness she hadn’t expected warmed her heart. Her father. He’d been a handsome boy, thin with dark hair like his father and brother. But Ryan had a mischievous grin that made her own lips twitch in response. A charmer, Mr. Fairmont had said. Yes, she could see that.

  “He was a handsome boy.” Reluctantly, she handed the photo back to him. “I can see why Mama would be attracted to him.”

  His hand froze in the act of grasping the frame. Lines creased his forehead. “What makes you think she was attracted to him?”

  Confused, Darcie shook her head. “I assumed. I mean, here I am.”

  Sympathy gathered in the dark eyes fixed on her. “Your mother wasn’t in love with Ryan, Darcie.” He spoke in a gentle voice. “She only met him an hour or so before you were conceived.”

  That made no sense. Mama was a lady and had the strongest morals of anyone Darcie had ever known. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your mother was an employee of Fairmont Industries, a factory worker. By then Father had stepped into an advisory role and I had taken over running the company. Ryan was unreliable and something of a loose cannon, but he was family. I kept him on in the role Father had given him, directing the national sales team.”

  He raked his fingers through the thick hair on one side of his head. “Shortly after I assumed control of the company, I decided to throw a picnic to boost morale. We held it at the estate, and everyone in the company was invited. Ryan showed up late, as usual, and he was drunk. Might have been high on something as well, I don’t know.”

  Her father was a drug user? This was unreal. With a growing sense of desperation Darcie saw the direction in which the story was going, and she wanted to clamp her hands over her ears. But she couldn’t turn away now. She had to know the truth.

  “Go on.”

  “Beth was a very attractive young woman, and apparently Ryan was taken with her. He offered to show her the house. I supposed she didn’t want to be rude to the company president’s brother, so she went with him.” His expression became grim. “My mother found her thirty minutes later huddled on the floor in one of the guest bedrooms, crying. Her clothing had been torn, and she’d been raped.”

  Horror crept over her. Mama, raped by Ryan Fairmont.

  I’m the result of rape?

  Nausea churned deep in her belly. Frantically she clapped a hand over her mouth, willing her stomach to settle.

  “Mother wanted to cover it up. She sent someone for me and insisted that I handle the situation quietly without involving the police. Anything to protect her baby boy.” He shook his head, disgusted. “Ryan was unrepentant and offered to write Beth a check to compensate her.” A grudging respect showed in his grim smile. “She refused to be bought off. She allowed us to pay for her medical bills only. Not a cent more. She quit her job and moved to Indiana to get away from the Fairmonts.”

  “Then she discovered she was pregnant.” Darcie couldn’t manage anything more than a whisper. “With me.”

  Mr. Fairmont nodded. “She contacted Ryan, and he again offered to write her a check, this time for an abortion.”

  She knew her mother well enough to imagine her reply to that suggestion. “Mama didn’t believe in abortion.”

  “I know. Ryan told me she was pregnant and he’d washed his hands of her. And then he was killed in an automobile accident.”

  “Was he drunk?” she asked.

  “No. High as a kite on crack. He was only thirty years old. A wasted life.” The sigh he heaved held a world of sorrow. Then he looked up at her again. “After the funeral I contacted your mother. I insisted that she let me help her. After all, you were a Fairmont.” His smile became brittle. “She finally agreed to let me help ensure you were raised in a home where you wouldn’t have to go without. The life of a single mother, a factory worker, isn’t easy. But she insisted that you were not a Fairmont, that the Fairmonts were to have no part in your life. Ryan had told no one else about the pregnancy, and she swore me to secrecy. I wasn’t to tell anyone, especially not my wife or my mother. Except for one or two close business associates who helped me keep the secret over the years, I’ve kept that promise.”

  Darcie closed her eyes and focused on taking slow, even breaths. I will not throw up. I will not throw up. The mantra helped to settle the nausea that roiled in her stomach.

  She opened her eyes to find Mr. Fairmont watching her. “I’m very sorry. I know how upsetting this must be.”

  Upsetting? Surely the biggest understatement of the century. With an effort, she stuffed her emotions in the back of her mind. Time enough to deal with them later. Right now she needed answers.

  “So obviously those notes were sent with payments of some kind.”

  He nodded. “I helped as much as Beth would let me.”

  “Do you have any idea who might want them badly enough to attack?”

  “No.” His eyes reflected complete certainty. “Only four people alive know of their existence. Two of us are in this room, and one is in prison.” His lips twisted. “Your uncle is hardly in a position to act. I’d trust the other one with my own life. There must be something else you have that those people want.”

  Her lungs deflated. This meeting wasn’t unfolding like she had thought.

  “I don’t have anything. Well, except this.” She held up her right hand to show him Mama’s ring. “It was in the box with the letters. I...I assumed my father gave it to her.”

  With a sad smile, he shook his head. “I gave it to her. I told her it might go easier on her if people thought she was a widow. She refused to wear it, but I wouldn’t take it back. I told her if she didn’t want it, she could sell it.”

  Darcie looked at the tiny sparkling stones. “Surely it’s not worth anything.”

  “Those are real emerald chips, though so small they aren’t worth much. A couple of hundred dollars at the most.” A smile spread across his lips. “It makes me happy to see you wear it.”

  Though no doubt he meant the comment to be endearing, she couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling that settled over her. She’d thought the ring was a gift from her father, and now she was thankful that wasn’t the case. Otherwise she would have torn it from her finger and flung it away. But the sentimentality she’d assumed accompanied the gift was somehow diminished, knowing it was given to help Mama perpetuate a lie.

  Oh, Mama. What you must have gone through all those years.

  * * *

  Caleb stood beside the office door for a long time, his ear tuned toward the inside. He heard only the drone of voices, Darcie’s high and feminine, Fairmont’s low and rumbling. But he couldn’t make out a single word.

  At least they both sound calm. If I hear a shout, I’ll be in there in an instant.

  He paced a few feet away and then back again, just to give his legs something to do. Examined the photographs on the secretary’s neat desk. Picked up a magazine from the table beside a guest chair.

  A noise reached him. It sounded like a desk drawer being slid closed. His head snapped up while he listened intently. Not a loud sound and not from the direction of Fairmont’s office. From somewhere else in this vast space of what he’d thought were deserted cubicles.

  An eerie feeling crept up his spine. Obviously one wasn’t as empty as he’d assumed.

  * * *

  Mr. Fairmont leaned back in his chair, his fin
gers intertwined and resting on his lean stomach. “I’ve wondered about the pup I sent your mother. Did he brighten her last days?”

  Finally, a happier subject to discuss. Smiling, Darcie nodded. “Percy is a pure delight. Mama loved to watch his antics. He made us both smile.”

  “Good, good. You still have him?”

  “Of course.” She lowered her voice. “We’ve been through a lot together, Percy and me.”

  “And what about that collar that came with him. You have that as well?”

  Something in his voice pricked her attention. A casual question, so then why did she detect a slight change in his tone?

  “Yes, I still have it. He’s never worn it, though.”

  “Of course not.” He flicked a hand in the air. “Those collars were my wife’s idea. Ridiculous, if you ask me. They’re gaudy and flashy and far too big for the little dogs she breeds. She insists they’re a status symbol, that they give her dogs prestige.” He shook his head in an indulgently amused gesture. “So be sure to keep the ugly thing around, especially if you ever intend to sell the dog.”

  “Oh, I could never sell Percy.” The idea was ludicrous. Percy was a member of her family.

  The thought of family brought a flush of guilt, and Mrs. Fairmont’s derisive words from yesterday returned. “Why he felt any desire to hire a thief’s niece, I can’t imagine.”

  As though he read her thoughts, Mr. Fairmont changed the subject with a question. “I’ve also wondered about your uncle. Is he doing well?”

  A chill descended in the room at the mention of Uncle Kenneth. “I have no idea. I’ve had no contact with him at all, except the note I sent telling him when Mama passed.” She forced herself to look up from the table and into his eyes. “I hope you and your wife don’t hold my uncle’s crimes against me. I would never, ever steal. My mother raised me to know right from wrong.”

  His gaze softened. “Of course you wouldn’t. The thought never entered my mind. As for Olivia.” His tone turned cold. “Don’t worry about what she thinks. Her opinion doesn’t sway mine at all, in this or any other matter.”

  How sad for a husband and wife to be so distant. Though Darcie had no positive role model for healthy marriage in her own family, she’d envied her friends who had parents who’d loved each other.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I mentioned that there are only four people who know the secret of your parentage. Obviously Kenneth is one of them.” He speared her with a direct gaze. “Did your mother have much contact with Kenneth after he went to prison?”

  A simple question. Why, then, did his voice become so tense when he asked it?

  “She wrote him regularly, but as far as I know he never wrote back.”

  “And you would have found the letters if he had, wouldn’t you?” The tight voice stirred a sense of unease in Darcie. She noticed that his hands were clasped so hard his knuckles showed white beneath his tanned skin.

  “If she’d kept them I would have,” she replied.

  “He’s due to be released in a few months, isn’t he?” The intensity in his gaze made her squirm.

  “I’m not really sure, to be honest. I’ve purposefully avoided knowing anything about Uncle Kenneth.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I offer a piece of advice?” She nodded, and he leaned forward. “If there’s a wasp in the room with you, it’s a good idea to pay attention to where he is.”

  From his grim expression, he’d learned that lesson the hard way. Of course he had. From Uncle Kenneth, the man who had betrayed him.

  “When he is released, he may contact you.” He held her gaze in a firm stare. “When he does, let me know. All right?”

  Darcie wasn’t sure whether she was more disturbed by the urgency in his voice or the idea that Uncle Kenneth may contact her. She squirmed in her chair and gave a shaky nod.

  His hands relaxed. Smiling, he rested them on the arms of his chair. “Good. Because now that you know the secret of your parentage, I’d like to acknowledge you publicly as family.”

  The idea was so alarming Darcie shrank against the opposite side of her chair. “Are...are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” Understanding dawned on his features. “We wouldn’t have to expose the details of your conception. Only the fact that you are my niece.” His smile became paternalistic. “Olivia and I have no children. It would make me happy to have a relationship with you. You could call me Uncle Richard. Think about it?”

  More disturbed than at any point during this extremely disturbing conversation, Darcie nodded. An overwhelming desire to flee took possession of her. She had to get out of here, to be alone and think about all she’d learned.

  Beneath the cover of the table, she slid the pepper spray back into the pocket of her purse and then made a show of slipping the strap over her shoulder.

  “I need to go. It’s getting late, and you’ve just gotten back into town.”

  He rose when she did, and for one horrified moment she thought he might embrace her. She hurried toward the door. When her hand touched the knob, his soft voice stopped her.

  “Darcie.”

  She looked up to find that he had not moved, but stood beside the table with a tender smile fixed on her.

  “Thank you for coming. I’m glad everything is out in the open between us.”

  A painful knot had lodged in her throat, clogging her words. She managed a nod before she twisted the doorknob and left.

  * * *

  The office door opened, and Caleb looked up from the magazine he’d been leafing through. Darcie emerged alone, her eyes troubled and heavy creases in the soft skin between her brows. Her hands hugged the strap of her purse against her body like a shield.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  She flashed him a quick smile along with a shaky nod. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  Caleb glanced at the open office doorway. Fairmont hadn’t physically hurt her, but whatever he’d said had upset her a lot. With a protective hand on her back, he guided her down the hallway.

  The creepy silence had returned to the office building. No more drawers sliding shut. Still, as they walked toward the elevators, he imagined the menacing weight of a stare on the back of his neck. He glimpsed over his shoulder expecting to see Fairmont standing in his office door, glaring after them. But the doorway was empty.

  TWELVE

  The first part of the drive back to the Emersons’ home was silent. Though Caleb itched to ask about the family secret that had forced him out of the room, he would not press her to talk about it. That learning it had upset Darcie was obvious. Sooner or later the team would need to know...but there was no reason to make her go through everything twice. He glanced at her. She sat sideways in her seat, staring out the window. Headlights of passing cars reflected off her silky hair, and once he saw her shoulders heave. Every now and then he heard a soft sob, and the urge to pull over and gather her into a comforting hug was almost overpowering. And that made him angry.

  My task in this job is to keep her safe. Period. That’s what I promised. Nothing more.

  But surely his Christian duty was to comfort those who mourn. Given the chance, he’d offer comfort to a stranger who was in obvious distress. Why not someone he knew and cared about?

  The thought slapped at him, and his head jerked backward against the headrest.

  She’s someone I know. Not someone I care about.

  Only a cold, hard-hearted person could not feel sympathy toward someone who had gone through the things Darcie had in the past two days.

  Well, okay, maybe I care. I care about a lot of people.

  The admission stirred a worry to the surface of his mind. No matter how he justified it, caring for Darcie was different than caring about a str
anger on the street. The danger lay in that difference. He cast a hurt glance upward through the windshield, toward the blackness of heaven.

  The only reason I agreed to help her is because of You, Lord. I told You I didn’t want to, and You made me. Are You putting me out there to get hurt again?

  Somewhere in the recesses of his spirit, Caleb knew God loved him. But surely a God who cared wouldn’t send him into a situation where he was so vulnerable. Where he could have his heart broken again.

  No, the God he knew wouldn’t do that. So that meant maybe God didn’t push him into this job after all. Maybe he’d done it himself. The idea was alarming on so many levels.

  But I heard You. I felt You nudge me to befriend her, to help her. Didn’t I?

  No answer but another soft sob from Darcie’s side of the pickup. Above him stretched a sky of unbroken blackness, a void into which he threw his prayer only to have it disappear.

  Maybe he hadn’t heard God after all. Maybe he’d mistaken his own inner voice for God’s. And now he’d gotten himself into a mess, one that might end up with his heart broken so badly it would never mend.

  Caleb’s thoughts were interrupted by a sniffle, and Darcie twisted around in her seat.

  “He’s not my father.” Though the cab was dark, the dashboard lights glittered off of her wet cheeks. “I wish he were. He’s my uncle.”

  Her uncle. “So your mother was his sister?”

  Locks of hair waved around her face when she shook her head. “No, my father was his brother. He—” a sob broke her voice “—raped my mother.”

  Caleb’s hands clenched into fists around the steering wheel. Of all the slimy scum in the world, men who hurt women were at the bottom of the heap.

  Darcie’s soft cries touched something deep in him, and he removed one hand from the steering wheel to cover hers. “I’m sorry.”

  “My father was a drug user and a rapist. When I think of what my mother endured...” Tears choked off her voice.

  Caleb squeezed. “Don’t. It won’t help her, and it will only torture you.”