RISE - Part Three (The RISE Series Book 3) (4 page)

He's not a model though. He's one of the most sought after criminal defense attorneys on the east coast. Everett Faulkner went to middle school with my brother before his family moved to Connecticut. I only saw him twice after that. Once was at the graduation dinner my parents had for my brother and the other, most recently, was when I'd bumped into him on the subway. That was less than two months ago.

"I was going to leave for Boston later today." I nervously pull on the strap of my purse. "Clinton is already there."

My brother had called me early this morning right after Landon had told me that he'd do anything he could to help me. I had anxiously asked him about our dad and when I could see him. He'd been kind in his answers, assuring me that right now our father was focused on cooperating fully with the investigators. He asked me to meet Everett and I agreed without question.

When I told Landon I had to go, he'd kissed me gently and had offered to go with me, even though he had no clue why I was rushing off.

I'd been tempted to bring him to the restaurant for the breakfast meeting, but it's too soon. There are still too many unanswered questions.

"Clinton and I can handle things there." Everett opens his tablet. He taps the edge as the screen populates with icons. "I wanted to meet privately to talk about the Beckett family."

I scratch the back of my head. "Frederick Beckett's family?"

He nods without breaking his gaze from his tablet. "You're familiar with them, no?"

His tone is too evasive and icy for someone who knows nothing about my relationship with Landon. "Are you asking me about Landon Beckett?"

"I know that you're involved with him."

"How?" I blurt out as I feel my stomach drop. "How would you know that?"

His chin rises slightly as his eyes meet mine. "I'm paid to know that."

"What does that mean?" I don't want the panic I feel racing through me to seep into my voice. "You're paid to know my personal business?"

I hadn't thought far enough into the future to sort out a plan for telling my family that I've been dating Landon Beckett. Framing that admission has to be done in a precise way given the fact that Landon's father all but handcuffed my dad himself, tossed him in prison and threw away the key.

If my brother hired Everett to represent my father, the charges must be very serious. I don't know my father's financial situation. I only know mine and I don't have nearly enough in my savings account to pay this man's retainer.

"I'm defending your father, Tess." His eyes float over the screen of his tablet. "That means I have to go into our meeting with the district attorney fully informed."

He doesn't want any skeletons in my closet or the closets of my siblings to impact my father's case. I'm sleeping with Frederick Beckett's son. Somehow I doubt that's going to be information that can be swept under a rug.

"I'm still confused about how you know about Landon and me," I press the issue, worried that if he found out so quickly after being hired, that one of my brothers or my sister will find out too. I don't want my father to hear about it from anyone but me.

"Yesterday I had someone doing background research on Frederick Beckett's disappearance." His tone lightens. "She spoke with a woman who was close to the family after the assumed drowning. That woman mentioned in passing that you and Landon are involved."

"Was it Gianna Foster?" I ask even though I already know the answer.

"It was." He nods as the corner of his mouth thins into a grin. "Mrs. Foster had an awful lot to share."

––––––––

"M
y father is still in New York." Landon settles on the sofa next to me. "He's going to plead guilty to some lesser charges during his arraignment. I won't be there."

I'd explained when I first arrived at his apartment that I was leaving for Boston in the morning. My father is there now and although he still hasn't contacted me directly, he's anxious to see me. That message was passed on through Everett via text message.

He was leaving today to speak to the district attorney ahead of my father's arraignment. He didn't see a reason for me to spend an extra night in Boston so he suggested I take a train tomorrow. I'd booked a ticket right after I read his last text message telling me that I needed to explain my relationship with Landon to my father as soon as I saw him.

"I have to tell my dad about us." I rest my hand on his thigh. I've missed being this close to him. Since he left my apartment yesterday morning before I went to meet Everett, our only correspondence has been two phone calls and dozens of text messages.

I'd gone to see Gabriel after my meeting with my dad's lawyer. My intention wasn't to talk business but when I'd sat across from him, the speech about my dad I had prepared in my mind on the subway ride to his office, was suddenly lost in a blur of details about the event in Los Angeles.

Whether my father goes to prison or he's exonerated, my life has to move forward. I can't drop the ball that is my burgeoning business. My father taught me better than that. He may have his faults but he's always steered me in the right direction when it comes to securing my future by my own hand.

If I tell Gabriel that I can't fully focus on the event, he will replace me without a second thought. I can't risk that at this stage of the game.

I sat with him for an hour discussing the silks and lace that we want featured on the models in the pop-up event. He had boxes of lingerie and as I picked through them, I caught him studying my profile.

He'd asked tersely if there was anything he could offer that would help me or my family. It was genuine. I could see that in the way his expression softened. I'd thanked him and told him that everything was being taken care of.

I hadn't mentioned his mother's name even though my initial intention was to tell him that she'd spoken to my father's lawyer and had been providing intimate details about my life.

As I chosen the lingerie pieces that I wanted the models to wear in Los Angeles, I realized that my father's actions might have stolen parts of my life away too. It's not Gianna's fault that my dad did things that put my privacy at risk. She was asked questions and answered them honestly. I have no right to fault her for that.

"Do you want me to go with you to talk to your dad?" Landon's voice breaks through my thoughts. "I can get a ticket for the train and ride there with you."

I shake my head slightly to refocus on the conversation. "What about your dad? Are you going to tell him about us?"

His gaze narrows. "My dad isn't part of my life anymore. I don't think I'll ever talk to him again. He doesn't have a right to know about you."

If he's trying to conceal the muted anger in his tone, he's failing miserably. His body language alone speaks of the fury that is there, right below the surface. "Aren't there things you want to say to him?"

He scoops the palm of his hand over my cheek. "There are things I wish I knew about why he left but he caused so much suffering, Tess. I mourned his death for years. There's no excuse for that."

Our fathers may have known each other at one time. The two of them may have conspired in their crimes but that's where the similarities end.

I don't hate my father. I can't imagine never speaking with him again. I'm confused. I'm hurt but mostly I'm afraid. Tomorrow, I have to get on a train and go see my dad so I can tell him that I'm falling in love with Frederick Beckett's son.

––––––––

I
sit in the plain room as I gaze down at the text messages on my phone that Landon has sent me since he kissed me goodbye at Penn Station this morning.

He'd held me last night until I couldn't keep my eyelids open. He'd helped me to my bed, undressing me slowly, kissing my skin tenderly before he pulled back the covers so I could slide between them.

He wanted to stay and make love to me he said, but sleep was more important. I'd held tightly to him as he kissed me once last time, whispering against my lips that he would do everything in his power to protect me and my family.

I'll be on the next flight if you need me, Tess. I'm one phone call away.

A loud noise pulls my gaze from my phone and Landon's last message. I look across the room to where the heavy steel door is opening. I'd walked through that door less than ten minutes ago after a female guard searched my purse and patted me down.

She'd been silent the entire time. My mindless chatter about the weather and the fact that I've never been in a facility like this before didn't warrant a response. She was stoic, her movements almost robotic as she cleared me for entry.

I keep my eyes glued to the door. I've imagined this moment all morning as I rode the train to Boston. I don't want to cry. I want my father to see his independent and strong willed daughter. I need him to see the strength in my eyes that isn't within him right now. I need him to witness my faith in him.

I stand when the guard enters the room, knowing my father is right behind him.

His shoe comes into view first. It's one of the sneakers he's always worn when we've gone for walks through his neighborhood in Los Angeles. Next I see the bottom of his jeans. They're too short for him. He only buys them on sale and by the time he gets around to going to the mall, the sizes are so picked over he settles for what is closest. I've teased him about it endlessly.

I finally get a glimpse of his face as he steps out from behind the guard. His eyes scan the sparse space before they finally settle on me.

My hands leap to my mouth, my eyes well with tears and he begins to cry. My father stands near the doorway. There are no cuffs on his wrists; he's not surrounded by an army of guards with their guns drawn at the ready. He looks just as he did when he blew me a kiss as I turned back to look at him standing on the curb when he dropped me off at LAX.

***

"I
've done things." He holds my hands in his on the steel table. "There are things I've done that I'm not proud of."

I expected these words after he'd embraced me. He was shaking as his arms circled my shoulders. I'd held tightly to him until the guard reminded him that we only had a few minutes together.

The uniformed man had motioned for me to sit across from my father before he walked away to sit in a chair next to the door.

"What things?" I ask as I brush away a lingering tear. "Please tell me what's going on."

His eyes glisten as he studies my face. "I've always wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted your brothers and sisters to look up to me too."

"We do," I say quickly. There's no hesitation in my tone. "I'm very proud of you, dad."

His eyes dart around the room. "I knew this day would come. I knew that it would."

"You knew that you'd be arrested?" I feel a lump form in the pit of my stomach. "How did you know?"

He releases my hands as he takes a heavy swallow. "Your past will always catch up with you, Tess. I've told you that."

He has. It came in the form of a firm warning after I'd skipped so many history classes in high school that I failed the course. I spent the summer after my junior year in a building with no air conditioning taking the class again. It wouldn't have been that bad had I not missed my chance to travel to Australia with a friend's family. The trip was all expenses paid and I'd blown it.

The experience may have helped me get on a straighter, more focused, path but it clearly pales in comparison to whatever my father has done in his past.

"You're right," I agree. "The past does have a way of coming back to haunt you."

"Mine did." He leans back in the chair, tipping his chin towards the guard. "Mine came back in the form of Frederick Beckett."

––––––––

"D
id you work with him?" I cast my gaze to the floor as I ask the question. This is the point in the conversation when I should tell my father that I know Frederick's son. I should confess that he's the man I've been dating and falling for but I don't.

"No." His voice is husky. "We never worked together. Until I was arrested, I'd never heard of the man."

"He didn't work for Buckland Insurance?" I train my eyes at his face now.

He adjusts his glasses on his nose to keep them from falling forward. I watch the motion of his hand. It's a gesture he does countless times a day but I doubt he's even aware of it.  "The police told me Frederick handled investments for a firm based in Boston. I never dealt with them."

"On the news they said that he told the police things," I stop myself because I don't want to sound accusatory. I can't ignore what I heard on television or what I've read online since my father's arrest but I want to hear the truth from him, directly. "They said that Frederick gave them information that helped them build a case against you."

"I suppose that he did." His posture stiffens in the chair. It's a slight shift but it's enough that I notice the change. "My lawyer told me that Frederick had thousands of documents in a safe deposit box. Some of those documents relate to me."

"What documents?" I ask impatiently. "Insurance documents?"

"I signed things." He pinches his index finger and thumb together as he sweeps them over the top of the table, mimicking a signature. "When I first made district manager, I signed so many things. I didn't read them all."

I sigh heavily. Maybe the only thing my father is guilty of is poor judgment.  I know from my own personal experience, that attention to detail isn't his strong suit.

"Did you sign something back then that you shouldn't have? Is that what this is about?"

"It started that way." He glances back at the guard. "My secretary brought me stacks of things to sign and I did just that. Day after day I signed hundreds of policies without looking them over."

How can he be held accountable for a simple oversight? If something was amiss in one, or more, of those policies, that can't possibly warrant parading my father on television in front of photographers along with accusations that he's a mastermind behind some plot that involves a missing person.