TWENTY-EIGHT

The sun warmed Kevin’s arms as he sat in his shirtsleeves by the water. He’d brought the girls to the lake to fish, and their squeals of delight made him smile. And watching Mallory’s slim figure flitting back and forth between them as she baited their hooks wasn’t a bad way to spend the afternoon either. Carol sat on a large rock with her face turned up to the sun.

Kevin’s phone rang, and he looked at it. “Hey, Abby. I hope you have some news for me.”

“Okay, got a pen? I’m going to be rattling off some names.”

He fished a pen and small pad from his pocket. “Go.”

“It took some doing. Someone really didn’t want this to be found. Mallory’s birth mother, Olivia Nelson, was in prison for embezzlement. She worked for the birth father, Thad Hugon, as an accountant. Olivia claimed someone set her up to make sure Thad didn’t break up his marriage over her, but I wasn’t able to prove it. Thad took custody of Mallory when she were born and brought her to the Blanchards. The Hugons are really wealthy. Ultra rich. Thad is nearly sixty and dying though. Brain cancer. He and his wife had no children. The wife died of a heart aneurysm about five years ago.”

Kevin thought through the chain of events. “So Mallory might be able to inherit.”

“Only if he dies without a will or he actually leaves her something. A man with that kind of power and wealth would have attended to his succession.”

“I think Mallory and I should pay him a visit and see what we can find out. You have contact info?” He jotted down the address and phone numbers Abby gave him.

The line crackled a bit, then cleared. “You may have trouble reaching him. I tried to call him and didn’t get anywhere. His secretary said he was too ill to take calls and would no longer be in the office. I tried his house, and his nurse told me the same thing.”

“Did you tell them what you wanted?”

“No, no. I just said I needed to talk to him about an investigation I was involved in.”

“Mallory can be frank, and maybe we can get to him. It’s worth a try. Thanks, Abby. Any idea of the mother’s whereabouts?”

“Nope. I’m looking though, and I’ll keep you posted if I hear anything else. Talk to you soon.”

Kevin put his phone away and turned toward the water as Mallory approached. “There’s another avenue we can check out.” He told her about Abby’s call. “The cedar chest at your house had Hugon inscribed on the bottom of it. It came from your father’s family.”

She gasped. “But if he’s sick, he wouldn’t have anything to do with Dad’s death.”

“Your birth mother is still out there though.”

“Abby doesn’t know where she is?”

He shook his head and released her shoulders. “Not yet, but she’s working on it. We can go see your biological father however.” He told her about Abby’s failure to talk to him. “But if you show up at the door claiming to be his daughter, I bet we’ll get into the house. You game?”

“Of course. When do you want to go?”

“How about tomorrow? Claire can fly us there and back. We might have to stay overnight. Maybe Carol won’t mind watching the girls.” He frowned. “I’m not sure it’s safe to leave them alone. I’ll ask Luke to watch out for them while we’re away. He’ll want something to do with Claire gone.”

Mallory’s face went pensive. “It will be so odd to actually see one of my birth parents. I wonder if I look like him.”

“We’ll soon find out.” He rose as Haylie shrieked that she’d caught a fish. “Hang on. You can land him.”

As he helped Haylie reel the fish to shore, he hoped he wasn’t leading Mallory into more heartbreak.

The flight to Boston had been quick and easy, and Mallory sat with Kevin in front of her biological father’s mansion in the convertible he’d rented at the airport. Mallory craned her neck and tried to peer through the bars surrounding the estate. There had to be acres and acres here, all locked up as tight as a tick. From what she could see of the big stone edifice beyond the gates, the place was as big as a palace. Monied wasn’t quite as lavish a term as this estate implied. More like Bill Gates rich.

“We can’t get in. Did Abby say anything about how to proceed past the gates? We can’t even reach the front door.”

“Let’s see.” Kevin put the car in Drive and pulled up to the gate.

A man came out from a brick guardhouse. He wasn’t smiling. “May I help you, sir?”

“Would you inform the house that Mr. Hugon’s daughter is here to see him?”

Indecision flickered across the guard’s face. “To my knowledge he doesn’t have a daughter.”

“He does, and she has paperwork to prove it. Please inform whoever is in charge inside.”

“Names?”

“Game Warden O’Connor and Mallory Blanchard Davis.”

The guard backtracked to his building, picked up the phone, and called the house. It seemed like a long time before he hung up and returned to their car. “Mr. Hugon’s nurse has a call in to his attorney about this matter. She says Mr. Hugon has no children.” His bright blue eyes held suspicion.

“Fine. We’ll go to the media instead.” Kevin shot her a glance.

Alarm registered in the guard’s face. “One moment, please.”

This time on his call, his hands moved with animation, and Mallory heard his voice. Though she couldn’t make out any words, it was clear he was pleading their case.

He turned and pushed a button, and the gate opened. Kevin drove through and turned into the stone-paved drive that circled the front of the mansion. The double doors at the entrance were made of some exotic wood and looked hand carved. The stone mansion was three stories high, and the windows were mullioned like some castle from Ireland. The dormers in the roof made it appear even taller.

Kevin turned off the engine and pulled out the key. “Ready?”

Her chest felt tight but she nodded. “Let’s do it.” She shoved open her door, then stepped onto the stone drive. The paving matched the mansion, and the drive alone had to have cost the earth. What kind of people would give away a baby when they could obviously afford to keep it?

Shoulders squared, she marched to the door with Kevin at her side and pressed the doorbell. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she waited. Would she even be allowed to see her biological father? And the bigger question was, did she even want to?

After what seemed an eternity, one of the massive doors opened, and a woman in her midforties stood in the opening. Her slim body seemed lost in her nurse’s scrubs, and her blonde hair grazed her jaw in a short, stylish bob. Her cold eyes skimmed them and dismissed them just as quickly. She held out her hand. “I’d like to see your proof, please.”

Mallory’s fingers tightened on the folder she carried. “I’ll show it to my birth father only.”

“Mr. Hugon is too ill to be disturbed with something unless I can verify it’s true.”

“Fine. I’m sure the media will be happy to talk with me.” Mallory stared her down. If the woman wanted to play chicken, she was game.

Uncertainty flickered in the depths of her blue eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me. I insist on seeing my father.”

The woman appraised her again. “You do have a certain Hugon look.” She stepped aside. “Come into the reception room. I’ll see what Mr. Hugon says. He’s likely to turn you away.”

“You haven’t told him we’re here yet?”

“No. I wanted to take your measure for myself. It’s my duty to protect him.”

Mallory and Kevin followed her into an expansive entry tiled with marble. A double curving staircase seemed to be suspended in the air as it rose to the second floor. Craning her neck, Mallory saw that it continued on up to the third floor. The reception room the nurse led them to was grand as well, easily twenty by forty feet with understated white leather furniture and nickel lighting. A thick Persian carpet covered gleaming walnut floors, and the crown molding and baseboard were wide and lavish. In spite of its obvious cost, the room felt welcoming and warm.

“Please be seated. I’ll be back.” The nurse turned on her comfortable shoes and left the room. Her rubber soles squeaked up the marble stairs.

“I can’t believe she let us in,” Kevin whispered. “You were a tiger.”

“I just kept thinking about Haylie. She deserves to know if she has grandparents. We both need to know where we came from. And maybe there will be an answer to Dad’s death.”

“Since your birth father is so sick, I doubt he had anything to do with the attacks. But maybe we can set that question to rest for sure.” Kevin stepped to the massive white-plaster fireplace. “Look here.”

The marble mantel held pictures in brass frames, and Mallory picked up one of a distinguished man with dark hair and eyes. He stood beside a beautiful redhead who looked to be in her fifties. He appeared to be a little older and had wings of gray in his dark-brown hair.

“It might be your father. Same coloring and shape of face,” Kevin said.

Mallory stared at it a long minute before setting the frame back on the mantel. She turned toward the doorway as the nurse’s shoes squeaked toward the reception room.

“Mr. Hugon will see you. Follow me.”