Private Bodyguard (16 page)

“No,” Oliver answered. “It doesn't sound like work had anything to do with her visit to Mulligan after all.”

Oliver didn't extend his conversation with Harriet Mendon past the new information. He also didn't question the validity of what the woman had gleaned from her chat with Jean. The security footage had shown a happy young woman, not someone about to dive into a stressful, secretive business world.

No, Jean Watford was about to go to meet up with her father.

She had been on the way to meet Nigel Marks at the Mulligan Motel.

All at once, the clues and lies made sense. The pictures of Nigel and Jean over the past year—meeting in secret—with the two of them enjoying each other's company without any sexual or provocative contact. The pain and surprise Oliver had picked up on when Nigel had been told about Jean's death.

In Orion's research on the Marks family, Oliver couldn't recall a single detail about a daughter. Half, step or otherwise. Jean Watford must have been one of the best kept secrets of Nigel's life.

That's what Darling was referring to as her loose end, Oliver realized. That's why she had called Nigel. She had figured it out, and the always curious Darling needed confirmation.

But where was she now?

Oliver took another look at the house. His feeling of unease had grown so strong, he felt as if it was a tangible object he could wield to cut open the gate. Had the entire story of Jean Watford joining Charisma Investments been a lie? If so, where did that leave the motive for her two supposed killers?

A new puzzle was coming together just as the old one was falling apart.

Oliver flew through his contacts until he found Grant's number. He hesitated and passed the name, going straight for another. He pressed Call next to Nikki's name, not willing to make the same mistake twice. Knowing her, she was still in town and would remain there for the duration of the contract. “Yes?” she cut right to the chase. Oliver could hear several voices in the background.

“Are you still with Nigel?”

“Oliver, you know I can't divulge information like that on a current—”

“Is Darling with him?” Oliver's voice had dropped to an almost icy plane of existence. Nikki picked up on it immediately.

“No. We've been at the new Charisma building since this morning.” He could hear her moving away from the group of people next to her. She spoke louder. “Why?”

“She called him while I was asleep and then left a note saying she was coming here to talk to him. I'm at the vacation house now.”

“Unless she called him before five this morning, she didn't talk to him,” Nikki said with certainty. “He's been in board meetings all day, trying to clean up this mess. He literally hasn't left the room in hours. The room has a glass wall and everything. We've been able to see him at all times, and not once has he made or picked up a call.”

“Could he have done that when you looked away?” Oliver reasoned.

“Here, he's coming out now. Let me just ask.” He could hear her annoyance at not being taken at her word, but Oliver needed to know what had been said during that call.

It could be nothing.

It could be everything.

Muffled voices filled his ear. It was a white noise that did nothing to break the silence of the outside world around him. He stood back from the gate and wondered if Darling had come here at all. If George hadn't been at the gate, she would have had to leave. Why wasn't George there to begin with? It was paramount he be at his station when the house was empty. To make sure it stayed that way.

Oliver went to the gatehouse and tried the door. It was locked. He cupped his hand and looked inside. Everything seemed normal.

“Oliver,” Nikki said, bringing his focus back. “Nigel said he never talked to Darling. He can't even find his phone.”

“He's lying, then,” Oliver responded with grit. “My phone said the call was made.” He didn't need to look again to know that was true. It not only was received but also lasted almost a minute.

“Well, Nigel didn't speak with her.” Nikki kept talking, but Oliver didn't hear it.

“I need you to get Rachel to track George Hanley's cell phone,” he ground out. Oliver tried the doorknob again, and when it didn't budge, he took a step back.

“What? Why?”

Oliver didn't answer as he threw his shoulder into the door. It splintered at the lock and swung open.

“Oliver?” Nikki's confusion was turning into anger.

“Because I'm pretty sure George Hanely took her.”

“How do you know?”

Oliver had scanned and rescanned the gatehouse each time he had made a sweep while on duty. George was a neat person. Every item in the small room had always been in a specific spot and order. His DVDs all were stacked nicely next to his television, his books were ordered next to his security tapes, and even his chair had always been pushed beneath the desk when he was occupying it. Now Oliver saw a room out of order. A few of the books were strewn across the desktop, the chair was on the other side of the room and one of the DVD cases lay in the corner, cracked open. However, it wasn't the unusual state of the space that caught his eye. It was the set of crutches poking out from beneath the desk that coaxed a concerned Oliver into the gatehouse. The blood on one of the pads only threw fuel onto the burning fire within him.

“Her crutches are here. Nikki, I need you to track him now,” Oliver repeated, more urgent than before. “Please.”

This time Nikki didn't hesitate.

“Give me five minutes,” she answered. Her voice had taken on the calm of the determined woman he knew her to be.

“Let me talk to Nigel,” he added. Again she didn't even pause.

“What's going on?” Nigel asked a few seconds later.

“George Hanley took Darling,” Oliver said. “I need you to tell me why.”

“What? He took her?”

“Yes. Now, what the hell would he want with her?” Oliver was moving around the room, looking for something that might clue him in to where the gate guard had gone.

“I have no idea!”

“Come on, Nigel. I talked to the man. He seemed to worship you, said you two were great pals. Think!”

“You're mistaken,” Nigel said hurriedly. “Mr. Hanley is close with my son, Jace, not me.”

Everything stopped for a moment.

“Hello?” Nigel asked, bringing Oliver out of his icy thoughts. He only had one question left.

“Did Jace know that Jean Watford was your daughter?”

As if he was standing in front of the millionaire, Oliver could see the older man had reached the same conclusion as he just had.

“Oh, my God.”

Chapter Twenty-One

It was a three-story building with cracked gray siding and a crumbling roofline. There was a workshop in the back, attached by a makeshift walkway that hadn't fared well against the weather. The several acres around each were untouched and gave clear sight lines to the road in the distance.

Darling took in all of these details as George drove up the long dirt drive. She had been to this abandoned house hidden near the heart of town before with Derrick who had said knowing its location might help with future cases considering the amount of criminal activity that happened there from time to time. It was dubbed the Slate House and hadn't been occupied in almost twenty years. The local teens really liked it as a location to drink in private, considering its next neighbor wasn't even in shouting distance.

A shiver ran up Darling's spine.

Perhaps that's why George was taking her there, as well.

“Why?” Darling asked the gate guard for the third time. Her chin was throbbing, but with her hands bound behind her back, she couldn't touch her face to assess the damage. She took solace in the fact that before George had managed to wrestle the plastic zip ties around her wrists, she had been able to do some damage of her own. Her crutch had made an excellent bat. The bleeding gash on his forehead was a testament to that.

George didn't slow the car until they were next to the workshop's outside door at the back of the house. He cut the ignition without answering her yet again. Never had she hated the silence more.

“George, why are we here?” she asked, expanding her earlier question in hopes he would answer. Instead he opened his door and got out.

For one wonderful moment, Darling thought he'd leave. That he would just walk off and give her enough time to figure out an escape route. But George didn't do that. He turned to the back door and opened it, and for the first time since he'd yelled at her to get into the car while simultaneously shoving her, he spoke.

“Someone wants to talk to you.”

He reached into the car and grabbed for her. Darling tried to shrink away, but George was faster than he looked. He caught her jacket sleeve and tugged hard.

“Don't fight it, private eye,” he snarled as he struggled to pull her out and up. “You brought this on yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” Darling yelled. He shut the car door and held her by the tie on her wrists, bending her slightly so she couldn't stand at full height. Without her crutches, the weight she put on her foot made her wince.

“Have you ever heard of the story where curiosity killed the cat?” He started to walk to the door, pushing her in front of him. She stumbled and considered making a run for it, but no sooner had the idea popped into her head than she felt the gun poke into her back. If anyone would shoot her without warning, it would be George. Whatever anger he was harboring for her, it was malicious. He stopped in front of the door. “In this story, you're the cat.”

George let go of her wrists long enough to open the workshop's door, then pushed her inside. Darling wasn't sure what she had expected to find in the tiny room, but she hadn't foreseen the lone two chairs and freestanding electric lights in the least. The chairs faced each other between the white peeling walls and the concrete floors. It felt cold and sterile.

And terrifying.

Whatever was about to happen, Darling was positive she didn't need to be a part of it.

George shoved her into one of the chairs and stepped back while she righted herself. He didn't take the seat opposite.

“You don't even remember me, do you?” he asked, voice pitching higher than normal.

Darling was confused by the question. Surely he wasn't referring to the trespassing incident that had just happened. Apart from that, she had seen the man only in passing. Nothing that would earn her the death stare he was giving her now.

“What do you mean?” she asked instead.

George laughed.

“Of course you wouldn't bother remembering what you did.”

“Just tell me,” Darling snapped. She was afraid, but she didn't want George to see it.

“Wow, you ruin a family's life and you don't even remember it,” he said, surprising her. The gun in his hand stayed trained on her as he spoke. Darling glanced at the door they had just come through. If she managed to escape she would be out in the open. She hoped he wasn't a good shot, because he could hit her easily. But if she could somehow make it into the house, there was a chance she could find something to defend herself with or, at the very least, hide until Oliver found her.

Because he would.

He had done it before.

“Then tell me about it,” Darling said. She wanted him to talk, get distracted and waste time.

The gate guard kept the gun pointed at her. Standing behind the chair opposite, he would not miss if he wanted to shoot her.

“You know, when you first came to Mulligan, I thought you were cute. Young, new, interesting.” Darling searched her memory for George when she was new to Mulligan but was drawing a blank. Whatever memory he was in, she wasn't sharing it. “Even when I heard the rumor you were working for Jeff as an intern, I still thought that made you more interesting than the women I had grown up around. But then you stuck your nose where it didn't belong, and I realized you were no better than your scum of a boss.” He waved his gun at her in a sudden burst of anger. Without meaning to, she yelped.

“My father skipped out on my family when I was a kid,” he said. “My mother worked her fingers to the bone trying to give us a good life. When I graduated, she hurt her back on the job at the woolen factory. For the first time in years, she was able to take a break, and she deserved it.” Recognition started to prick against Darling's memory. “So, I encouraged her to tell a little white lie and say she was still hurt. Have herself a little vacation.”

Darling could almost feel the color drain from her face. George must have seen the change.

“Ah, you do remember me,” he said.

“Workers' compensation fraud,” Darling responded as if she was reading the file Jeff had handed her years ago. She hadn't put together that George had been Carmen's son. Their last names were different, if she recalled correctly.

“That's it.”

“It was more than just a little white lie,” she said with an even tone. “She was collecting it for a year and a half.”

George grabbed the chair and hurled it into the wall. The echo it made rocketed Darling's fear skyward, but it was nothing compared to what she felt when she realized where the gun was. George held it level with her face. His hand was calm. His eyes were filled with rage.

“You watched and followed her like she was some kind of criminal when all she was, was a woman who worked herself into the ground to provide for her family,” he roared. “She had to spend a year in jail and pay almost fifty thousand dollars! It broke her, it bankrupted us and it was all because you and your boss wanted to make a little cash!”

Darling wanted to say that, although she could sympathize with his mother, her actions had been illegal. Darling had done her job the correct way, observing an energetic woman with no issues and reporting back to the insurance company that had hired Acuity. But she didn't say anything. George was enraged. He had already cast the first stone and didn't seem to regret that one bit. Anything she said now would only fan the fire. She didn't want to give him any more reason to use his gun.

“All out of questions?” he spat when Darling still didn't speak. Her back was ramrod straight. Her heart was racing.

“I wouldn't talk to you right now if I was her, either.”

Darling gasped as a voice spoke from the doorway. She hadn't heard or noticed the door open, and she hadn't expected that particular man.

“You're too passionate, George. It's terrifying.” Jace Marks smiled a perfect smile at the gate guard. His eyes slid to Darling's look of surprise, and he laughed. “After all of his obsessing over how bothersome you can be, I'm kind of shocked you didn't put the dots together much sooner.”

He grabbed the discarded chair and set it up across from her. In the process of sitting down, he took the gun from George's hand and pushed the man gently aside. Darling watched the interaction with new attention. George was being obedient and took the spot behind Jace with obvious pride. She had never known the two even knew each other, yet the loyalty George was exuding for the younger Marks was concrete.

“The dots,” was all Darling could manage at first.

“Yes, the dots.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. As if they were in a meeting making small talk. “About Nigel's little secret. His tryst from younger years.”

“You mean Jean,” she said, finding her voice. “Your sister.”

“Half-sister,” he corrected. “
Secret
half-sister.”

“But you knew?” Darling was going back over all the events that had taken place. This time she was inserting the two men before her. Finally what felt off about the arrest of Lamar Bennington and Robert Jensen made sense. “Nigel told you?”

“Of course he didn't tell me,” he said. “Perhaps that would have been the right thing to do, but Nigel doesn't always operate with the best morality.”

“Then how did you find out?” Darling didn't know why he was opening up to her, but if it bought Oliver more time to find her—which she prayed he was already trying to do—then she'd keep the conversation going. Although she couldn't pretend that Jace confessing to everything was good for her health. Trying to tie up the loose end with Jean Watford's identity had turned Darling into Jace's loose end.

“A very inebriated family lawyer let it slip that Nigel wanted to make some changes to his will. At first I thought it was to give Mother and me what he had set aside for leaving this pathetic community after his death, but then Mother made an odd comment about Nigel's extracurricular activities. So I followed him, and there she was.” Every time he referred to Jean, he acted as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Darling didn't wonder which of the men had actually killed her. She would bet everything she owned Jace had been the one to do it.

“At first I thought it was an affair,” he said, “but after watching them, I realized the affection wasn't sexual. That's when I really did some digging. I even went so far as to steal her hairbrush for a DNA sample to make sure, but when I went to get something of Nigel's, he caught me.” He rolled his eyes. “He didn't deny it but had the audacity to ask me to keep it a secret until he could figure out how to tell Mother.”

“And you did, didn't you?” Elizabeth hadn't known about Jean. Darling was sure of that. If she had, it would have been more than enough to get out of the prenup.

Jace shrugged as if keeping his father's illegitimate child a secret hadn't been a big deal. “It was just another job in a long list of jobs he had already given me. I really didn't mind the new development.”

“But?” Darling wanted to know what had changed.

Jace smiled wide. It didn't last long. His words became low, dangerous. “But then he tried to give her money, and when she wouldn't take it, he promised her a job at the new branch of Charisma.” He paused and uncrossed his legs. Moving his head side to side, he cracked his neck. The calm exterior of control he had been trying to exude was beginning to flake off. When he was ready to speak again, however, George put his hand on Jace's shoulder.

“He'll be looking for her soon, Boss,” the gate guard said.

Jace didn't look as if he enjoyed being interrupted, but he shrugged the irritation off with a nod.

“Go,” he commanded. “And don't waste any time. Shoot to kill, as they say.”

It was George's turn to nod. He took the gun from his demented friend and began to leave.

“Shoot to kill? Who?” Even as Darling asked, she knew the answer. George left without a word. She turned her wide eyes to the man in front of her. “Who is he going to shoot?” she almost yelled.

Jace's smile came back. “Your bodyguard, of course.”

Darling's breath went shallow. She felt her nostrils flare, and her eyes became slits. Every fiber of her being was warring between anger and fear.

“Why? He doesn't know anything,” she ground out. “I didn't tell anyone. There was no need to, since the murderers were already thought to be in custody.”

“Oh, Darling, we both know that Mr. Quinn won't stop until he saves you or avenges your death.” A shiver shot up her spine at that, but she tried to hide it. “Either way, he's a problem, and I don't need any more of those.”

Darling heard her car drive away, picturing it going around the side of the house.

“If we were such problems, then why even involve me in the first place?”

“You mean the pictures,” he guessed.

“And the notes.”

“When I realized my mother hired you to prove Nigel's infidelity, I checked up on you. With all that happened with your parents, I assumed you had some guilt I could use to my advantage. Plus, considering your relationship with the police here, I figured you'd want to do the right thing and turn in any evidence. The hope was that you being so adamantly against Nigel would help put a nail in his coffin.” He made a
tsk
noise. “By the way, I must ask. After you got all of that evidence on your parents and their extracurricular activities, why didn't you turn it in to the authorities?”

Anger was starting to win against the fear she felt at being so vulnerable in front of a killer. She lifted her chin a fraction.

“I would think someone like you would understand,” she answered. His eyebrow went up in question, so she explained. “Being the children of powerful people isn't easy, especially when you see how far they will go to protect themselves. Like you, I was afraid.” It was the first time she had ever admitted that to anyone. In a small way, she felt a sense of relief at finally saying it out loud. It was a shame the admission was wasted on Jace Marks.