Roarke parked his rental SUV beside Angela’s car and hurried inside the Perry Ranch. He found his father and sister sitting in the den.
He clapped his hands, a broad smile on his face. “I’ve got great news.”
“I’ve heard.” Sterling tapped a large envelope on the coffee table. He recognized it as the paternity test results that Ryder had given them that day at the coffee shop.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what’s your good news, Roarke?” Angela approached him.
“It’s about the fraud case.” He turned to Sterling. “I’ve had my investigators going over the investment documentation of some of your clients who lost big recently, as well as your banking information. This case in no way meets the legal definition of a Ponzi scheme. You didn’t guarantee anyone returns and you didn’t use the money from new investors to pay out previous investors. The stock was doing quite well until rumors and innuendo sparked investor panic, which then triggered the slide of the stock’s value. I shared everything I found with your lawyers.”
“Then why haven’t the charges been dropped?” Angela asked impatiently.
“The FBI certainly wasn’t going to take our documentation at face value. Nor were they in a hurry to prove Dad innocent of fraud. Especially with the murder investigation going on.” Roarke went behind the bar to pour himself a scotch and soda. “But I called the agent heading up the fraud case and he said that Ster—Dad will be released from house arrest as soon as they can get someone out here to take that thing off.” Roarke nodded toward his father’s ankle.
“Thank goodness.” Sterling lifted his pant leg and scratched the skin beneath the monitor. “This thing is driving me insane and I’ve been going stir-crazy in this house. I need to get back to my office as soon as possible. We need to devise a plan to counteract all the bad publicity and the negative impact it’s had on our company. I should sue the local police department and the feds for false arrest and the resulting financial losses. There’s no guarantee that we’ll make those up. At least, not anytime soon.”
“Relax, Dad.” Angela placed a hand on her father’s shoulder. Then she turned to Roarke and hugged him. “You’re a hell of a lawyer, little brother. Thank you.” She ruffled his hair.
“Thanks, Ang.” He appreciated his sister’s heartfelt thanks.
Because he hadn’t gone into their family business, he’d often felt the disappointment of not only his father but his sisters, too. So it felt good to be acknowledged for what he’d been able to achieve on his father’s behalf.
Sterling approached him, his hand extended. “Yes, by all means, thank you, son. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”
“Glad I could help.” Roarke shook his father’s hand. “But it’s too soon to celebrate. There’s still the murder investigation to consider.”
“I know.” Angela nodded sadly. “Poor Vincent. He might not have been the best employee, but he certainly didn’t deserve this.”
“They don’t honestly believe I had anything to do with that man’s death, do they?” Sterling frowned.
“The investigators claim that people inside your company suspect that Vincent stumbled upon your Ponzi scheme and threatened to out you, so you killed him or had him killed. Either way, you’ve become their chief suspect.”
“But you just proved that I wasn’t trying to defraud anyone. So what possible motive would I have to kill the man?”
“What if Vincent was the one who started the rumors in the first place?” Angela asked. “The perception that Perry Holdings defrauded investors created substantial losses for our company and our clients. Wouldn’t that give Dad just as strong of a motive for shutting Vincent up?”
“Whose side are you on?” Sterling grumbled.
“Yours, of course,” she assured him. “But we need to look at this thing from every angle.”
“She’s right, Dad. It’s the only way we can stay ahead of this. We need to think the way they do and anticipate their next move.” Roarke sat in the chair and sipped his scotch and soda.
“So what now?” Sterling picked up his glass from the table and drained his whiskey.
“First, we pray that Detective Warren and her team are competent enough to find the real killer, and soon.” Roarke set his glass on a coaster on the table. “Second, we keep digging for clues. Find out if anyone might’ve had an ax to grind with Vincent Hamm. Or you.”
Both Sterling and Angela looked alarmed by the possibility. But the truth was that his father collected enemies like some men collected coins or rare stamps. There was a long list of people outside the company, and a few inside, who might want to exact revenge on Sterling Perry. His father could teach a masterclass on rubbing people the wrong way. In his father’s case, familiarity often did indeed breed contempt.
It was a lesson he’d learned firsthand.
“How long will you be in Houston?” Angela asked her brother.
“Until this case is settled.” Roarke shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “I’ve made arrangements with my office in Dallas.”
“That’s great, Roarke. You know how much I appreciate this, but I can’t help wondering if your affinity for a beautiful young lady had a hand in your decision.” She smiled. “If so, just remember what we talked about earlier.”
His sisters just couldn’t resist ribbing him, especially when it came to his love life. “This has nothing to do with Annabel.”
“Sure, little brother.” Angela’s teasing grin made it clear she thought he was full of it. She grabbed her purse. “I’m having dinner with her father tonight. I’ll be sure to say hello, if I see her.”
“Wait... You’re talking about Currin’s daughter?” Sterling’s gaze shifted from Angela to Roarke, then back again. “This is a big city. Did you two find it absolutely necessary to go swimming in the Currin dating pool?”
Roarke sighed. “Thanks, sis.”
“You’re welcome,” she practically sang as she turned to leave. “Good night.”
Roarke finished the last of his drink as an awkward silence settled over the room.
“I’m sure you’ve had a long day, so I’ll just—” Roarke started to rise to his feet.
“Have another drink with your old man?” Sterling asked.
“I’d better not.” Roarke rubbed his palms on his pant legs. “I have to drive back to the condo. One Perry in an ankle bracelet is more than enough.”
“You’ve got a point.” Sterling chuckled. “But of course, you don’t have to go back to the condo tonight. You’re welcome to stay. I was just gonna hunker down and watch some old Westerns like we did on Saturday nights when you were a kid.”
His mouth curved in an involuntary smile as he recalled those nights when it was just the two of them, watching old spaghetti Westerns starring Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson, Lee Van Cleef or Henry Fonda. Violent movies his mother preferred that he not watch.
One of the many battles of wills his parents had where he was concerned.
“Sounds like fun, but I—”
“C’mon, son.” His father’s voice was soft and pleading.
Roarke studied Sterling’s expression. For the first time that he could remember, his father didn’t look like the imposing giant who ran his empire with a steel fist. The father who only showed softness around the edges where his daughters were concerned.
Sterling Perry looked vulnerable and every bit of his seventy years of age. Maybe more.
“I’d really like it if you’d stay. It’ll give us a chance to talk.” Sterling stood, grabbing his glass from the table. He picked up Roarke’s glass, too. “What are you drinking tonight, son?”
“Scotch and soda.” It wasn’t lost on him that his father had made a point of calling him son repeatedly. “Thanks, Dad.”
Sterling took their glasses behind the bar and poured their drinks. He handed the tumbler to Roarke and returned to his chair. He sipped his drink in silence.
“So, I fully expect that the FBI will drop the charges of fraud related to the allegations of a Ponzi scheme.” Roarke set his drink on the table after taking a deep sip. “But until you’ve been cleared in the murder investigation, it would be best if you lie low.”
“Thank you, Roarke. For everything you’ve done these past few weeks. I know that you’ve got your own life and your practice back in Dallas. And let’s face it, I’m not winning any father-of-the-year awards where you’re concerned. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t wanted to get involved. But I’m thankful you did.”
“Glad I could help.” Roarke nodded, accepting the compliment. It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable for both of them.
“Roarke,” Sterling said after a quiet lull between them. “I’m sorry, son. I know I was much harder on you than I was on your sisters. I know you think it’s because...” His father glanced down at the envelope on the table, but he couldn’t seem to bear to vocalize his thoughts. “It wasn’t. At least, I always told myself it wasn’t. That I just needed to toughen you up. To make sure you were strong enough to one day stand in my shoes and be the man your sisters will need when you become the patriarch of this family.”
Roarke carefully regarded his father’s words and his response to them. Over the years, he’d learned to bury his hurt and anger over his father’s treatment. He’d convinced himself that he didn’t really give a damn that his father had considered him a letdown. Because he never wanted to be like Sterling Perry, anyway.
But the truth was it had hurt like hell to be a constant disappointment to a man like Sterling Perry. And like any human being, he’d wanted his father to be proud of him.
“I appreciate that you felt you were making me a stronger, more capable man.” Roarke sipped his scotch and soda. “But it sure as hell felt extremely personal.”
“I know.” Lines spanned across Sterling’s forehead. “And I wish I could say you were wrong. But I think we both know my actions were colored by what I believed to be true.”
“I appreciate your honesty. I really do.” Roarke swallowed back the lifetime of pain that bubbled up in his chest. “But if you really believed I was Ryder Currin’s son, why didn’t you ask for a paternity test when I was born? Or at any time in the past twenty-eight years? You could’ve saved us both a lot of heartache.”
Sterling took a long pull from his glass and set it on the table with a thud. He sighed heavily. “I was terrified it was true. That once I had confirmation, our relationship would never recover.”
Roarke fought back the anger and bitterness that burned his lungs. Emotions he’d buried deep.
He ignored the part of himself that wanted to scream and curse. To bang his fists on the table and tell Sterling Perry exactly what he could do with his two-decades-too-late apology.
“I’m sorry, it’s late and I have an early-morning conference call about a case I’m working on.” Roarke stood abruptly.
“You really don’t need to go, son. In fact, I’d appreciate the company.”
“The spaghetti Western marathon sounds great. Really. Another night, okay?”
Roarke turned to go, leaving his mostly untouched drink on the table.
“Roarke.” His father followed him toward the door.
“Yes, sir?” Roarke turned to face him.
“What Angela said... Is it true about you and Currin’s daughter?”
Roarke rubbed the back of his neck. “I like her. A lot. But I’m not really sure where things will go from here. I don’t see the point in starting something when she’s opening a new business here and I’ve got my practice in Dallas.”
“True.” Sterling nodded sagely. “But Houston is your home. It’s where your family is. Your sisters and I would love it if you moved back.”
“I appreciate the thought. But I’m happy in Dallas.” Roarke patted his father’s shoulder. “Good night.”
He stepped outside and inhaled deeply, thankful for the fresh air that filled his lungs. The den had suddenly seemed like too small a space, the air dense and stale. He felt as if he could breathe easily for the first time since his father began his apology.
Roarke headed toward his rental, knowing there was only one person he wanted to call.