Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (30 page)

Christian crossed his arms on his chest. “But my word’s not enough.”

Bryce sighed. “I’ve worked with so many guilty people recently, I’ve begun to assume everyone’s guilty. I’m sorry.”

Gabrielle was the same way. Some of the righteous indignation left Christian, but not all of it. “Listen, I’ll tell Paul we weren’t a good fit. He won’t blame you for not taking my case.”

“We just got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry about that. We can start over.”

Christian shook his head. How could he explain what he needed? “I don’t think you’ll understand what I’m about to say, but it’s important to me. No one believes in me. That’s never happened to me before. Paul thinks I made a mistake. Roger thought I’d redone the drawing. Paul and Roger are the two most important people in my life, but right now I can’t count on either of them. I don’t like how it makes me feel, like I’m all alone.

“Gabrielle Healey, from Michigan Casualty, is helping me try to find the forger, but she’s not doing it for my benefit. As long as somebody’s guilty, her company doesn’t have to pay.

“You mentioned my mental state. People don’t understand bipolar. They think I’m insane and that I can’t tell truth from fiction. I have to hide the fact I was committed, so even when I tell the truth, I’m lying.

“Last month I was on top of the world. Today people want to spit on me. I need someone to believe in me, to prove to me and everyone else I didn’t make a mistake horrible enough to cause the deaths of six people. Then I can begin to believe in myself again.”

Christian stopped, taken aback by the echo of the words in his head. He hadn’t known all that was festering inside him.

“I understand,” Bryce said, without elaboration. “Sit down and let’s begin. Tell me about Kernfelter and this investigation. The faster we find the guilty party, the faster we can get the charges against you dropped.”

Bryce sounded so convincing Christian almost believed it would be that simple. He wanted and needed to believe he could rebuild his life again.

So he returned to his seat and told Bryce everything that had happened so far. To his credit, the lawyer listened with an impassive face to every word, only interrupting to clarify some point.

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Bryce asked.

Christian leaned forward. “Do you really think they’d do a thorough job in a timely manner? I don’t. I’ve got a vested interest in clearing my name as soon as possible.”

“But you’re not a trained investigator.”

“Gabrielle Healey is.”

“I don’t think it’s wise for you to work with her.”

Christian frowned. “Why not?”

“For one thing, it’s a conflict of interest on her part. For another, you should be looking out for your and Roger’s corporate interests. I’m not asking you to hide the guilty party, if it’s someone in your firm,” Bryce said. “I just don’t want Michigan Casualty to be privy to whatever information you find that might reflect badly on Barrett and Ziko. What good will it be if you’re cleared, if you lose your company? As your attorney, I advise you to protect your personal and professional welfare, if it’s possible.”

The thought that Barrett and Ziko could be fatally hurt if one of their employees was the culprit had not occurred to Christian. But if the firm was tainted, neither he nor Roger might be able to rise above that.

“You mean separate the guilt of the individual from the guilt of the firm for employing that person?”

“Something like that.”

“How do you sleep at night?”

Bryce’s blue eyes became glacial. “Because I have friends like Roger and Paul. Even if you don’t want to protect Roger’s business interests, I do.”

What the hell went on at that fraternity that first Bryce owed Paul and now it seemed he owed Roger something as well?

“I’m very interested in the health of my company.” Guilt stabbed him yet again, for hadn’t Roger told him less than an hour ago Barrett and Ziko was being hard-pressed?

“Then stay away from Ms. Healey. We’ll do our own investigation.”

“She’s not going to stop just because I’m not with her. And if she interviews people first, they may not talk to me later.”

Bryce sighed and tossed his gold pen onto the desk top. “You’re being difficult.”

“I’m sorry, but I told you my reasons up front.” Christian shrugged. “At least I know Gabrielle’s agenda. I have no illusions about her.”

“Forewarned is forearmed, I suppose. Just don’t air any dirty laundry in front of her. And if you find out anything not pertinent to her investigation, don’t share it.”

Christian sighed. Would nothing ever be clear-cut again? Sure, he’d hidden being bipolar for years, but now there would be other things to hide. Maybe this was the point called adulthood, where one’s life wasn’t an open book to everyone who wanted to read it. Maybe Paul had protected Christian far beyond the point when other people stood on their own two feet and knew adult expectations. And maybe Christian had let him.

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll file a motion to dismiss based on the forgery and see where that goes.”

• • •

Gabrielle decided she didn’t like Jeremy Barrett even before she shook his hand. Where his father, with a distinguished career, had a reason for his confidence, Jeremy was just an arrogant bastard. She heard him yelling from twenty yards away as she picked her way carefully through the skeleton of the West Park construction.

“No, no, no. Dammit, can’t you read a blueprint?” Jeremy’s voice was higher than Roger’s.

When she caught sight of him, she knew immediately he was Roger’s son by his thin blondish hair. But the twenty-something Jeremy carried more weight than he should, making him appear like an ill-formed copy of Roger.

A hard-hatted construction worker stormed away from Jeremy, red-faced and stiff-backed. Jeremy’s light blue eyes, another gift from Roger, flicked over her, noted her ID badge and then returned to the blueprint laid on the board in front of him.

“Jeremy Barrett?”

“Yeah.” He looked up. “What can I do for you?”

“Gabrielle Healey from Michigan Casualty. I’m investigating the Densmore Building collapse. I need to ask you a few questions.” She held out her hand.

When he took it and gave a quick shake with a limp hand, a vision filled her mind.

Jeremy had his back pressed against the wall of what looked like a corridor at Barrett and Ziko Architectural. Although his face was red, he looked like he might cry. He pushed away from the wall and stormed down the hall, entering an office and closing the door.

“It was all a damn lie. He doesn’t want me here. He doesn’t want to spend time with me. He won’t give me any responsibility. He gives all the good projects to Ziko. He’s a bastard, just like Mom said. But I’ll make him see he’s wrong about me.”

The vision dispersed. Jeremy looked away toward the men and women moving around with the purpose of worker bees. “I didn’t work on the Densmore. That was Christian Ziko’s baby.” He didn’t manage to hide the hard edge in his voice.

“Something has come to light. If you’d please give me a few minutes in private, I can complete my business with you.”

“Whatever business you have should be with Ziko.”

“This is specific to you.”

He frowned, pushing out his lower lip so he appeared petulant. “I don’t know how it could be.” Looking at her set face, he blew out a breath. “All right, you’ve got five minutes.”

Heading back to the parking lot, Gabrielle wondered if even the blunt approach would work with Jeremy. If he wanted to lie, he would. How could Christian bear to work with him? She thought it very telling that Jeremy didn’t call Christian Kit.

When Jeremy reached the area where the workers’ pick-ups and SUVs were parked, he turned, crossed his arms across his chest, and asked, “What do you have to say to me?”

She thought she’d shock a reaction out of him. “Did you forge Christian Ziko’s signature on the revised Densmore blueprint?”

Jeremy’s eyes widened for a moment, then they narrowed. “You dragged me over her to make accusations against me? Who sent you, Ziko?”

“My company sent me, the company that insured the Densmore for millions of dollars. Did you forge Ziko’s signature?”

“He did the drawing himself. Nobody forged his signature.”

“No, he didn’t do the second drawing, and he didn’t sign it, either. I’m going to need a sample of your handwriting.”

“Not likely. You’re trying to pin this on me instead of Daddy’s favorite. Well, I’m not going to play. If Ziko messed up, he should pay for it.”

Oh, he was a crafty one. There was just enough honest indignation to make her want to believe something he said was true. But which part of his statement was the lie?

“You’re going to have to give the court a sample of your handwriting, so you might as well give it to me now.”

“It’s going to take a court order to make me write anything. I know my rights. I don’t have to incriminate myself, since I already know somebody’s going to pull something and get the results to point at me. No way.”

“Do you think your father would let anyone do that to you?”

“My dad doesn’t give a crap about me. His wife and girlfriends are all he thinks about. Oh, and his business. And now politics.”

Interesting. This might explain why Christian hadn’t gotten close to Jeremy. “Your dad hired you.”

“He wanted a Barrett at Barrett and Ziko when he ran for office. It looks good to the voting public. Believe me, it’s not personal.”

“What can I do to convince you the handwriting expert is completely impartial and won’t be swayed by anyone to fix the results?”

“Not a damn thing. I hope Ziko gets what he deserves.”

Gabrielle controlled her anger on Christian’s behalf. It wouldn’t do to show emotions to this young man. “Then I’m sorry I wasted both our time. I’m sure you’ll be subpoenaed by the court, so you’d better put a lawyer on retainer.”

Then she turned and walked away toward her car. She didn’t take an easy breath until she was down the street from the construction site and could pull to the curb without being seen. Jeremy Barrett had issues with his father and Christian. He seethed with righteous anger, but he acted like a spoiled, sulky child. He had motive and opportunity, but was he all hot air, or had he taken action?

She called Christian and reported her conversation with Jeremy.

Christian was silent for a few moments after she finished. “I think you misread the situation.”

“No, Christian, I didn’t.” She tried to rein in her temper. “I don’t want to discuss this over the phone. Are you ready to see your brother?”

“Yeah. I’ll call him and see where he’s at, then call you back.” He broke the connection.

Christian didn’t want to believe the people closest to him would hurt him. It was his point of vulnerability, like a blind spot. He called back to report Paul was at a job site in Warren, gave her directions and agreed to wait for her to arrive before he questioned his brother.

As she parked beside Christian’s Jeep in a steady rain, the overhead light came on in his car. There was another man sitting in the front seat next to him.

Gabrielle stepped gingerly out into the mud and her foot sank in nearly to the top of her shoes. She was soaked by the time she closed the Jeep’s door.

“You made good time considering,” Christian said.

“I’ve got permanent cricks in my hands from gripping the wheel.” She turned to the other man.

Paul Ziko looked a lot like Christian, in a naggingly familiar way — the same jet black hair and the same Caribbean blue eyes. Only where Christian’s face was intense, Paul’s looked approachable, an any-man face. There were smile lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but he wasn’t smiling now. Rain like they’d had all spring was probably a contractor’s worst nightmare.

His blue eyes assessed her warily.

She reached her hand between the bucket seats to shake his. “I’m Gabrielle Healey from Michigan Casualty.”

When he touched her, she got a vision, but it wasn’t the one she expected.

Paul talked into a phone receiver he held in a white knuckled grip. “Pam, please, I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late for sorry. You know better than to call me. You’re supposed to talk to my lawyer.”

“I want you back. I made a mistake.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Let me make it up to you, Pam. Let me make it right.”

“It’s never going to be right again. Stop calling me, Paul.” The connection was severed.

Paul picked up a tumbler of golden liquid, tossed down a healthy gulp and then held the glass to his cheek. He still gripped the phone in the other hand. A tear slipped down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Gabrielle released Paul’s hand and the vision. It was too personal, and made her wonder what he was guilty of. With a woman on the other end of the phone, one he wanted back, she assumed it was his wife.

He turned to say something to Christian, and when he did the sense of familiarity coalesced into something else. She’d seen his profile before, in a vision with Brittany Franks, Christian’s secretary. They’d been having frantic sex. Now the vision made more sense. His marriage had crumbled as a result.

“What’s wrong, Gabrielle?” Christian asked.

Paul was the main contractor on the Densmore. He’d been having an affair with the architect’s secretary. His wife had found out. Could his personal catastrophe have started a string of errors that led to forgery and disaster? Maybe if she rattled him first, he’d admit he’d made a mistake.

“When does your divorce become final, Mr. Ziko?”

Paul’s head snapped around, his blue eyes wide and startled. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Court filings are public record,” she said, although it wasn’t how she’d found out.

“What do you want?”

“Did you forge Christian’s name on the revised Densmore drawing?”

“What? That’s crazy, that’s … ” His face reddened and he straightened. “That’s a damned lie.”

“If it’s a lie, you want to explain how your affair with Brittany Franks affected the Densmore construction?”