Cold Target (40 page)

“Who?” Gage finally said. “Who are the bastards?”

“Her father. Oliver Prescott.”

“Prescott?”

Dom sat down abruptly. His face was like a piece of stone, his brown eyes glittering like agates. It was obvious he was trying to control himself.

“Dom, we need help. There's been an attempt on Meredith's life. Her apartment was trashed, a friend of her mother's was killed after agreeing to talk to Meredith. Now her father's been killed. I'm afraid they will try again to kill her.” He stopped. “It all started when she started to ask questions about her half sister.”

Dom picked up a paper weight, juggling it as if he wanted to throw it against the wall.

Normally, Dom was the most controlled man Gage knew.

Gage waited, even though he hated every minute away from Meredith. He believed she was safe at his house, but this whole sequence of events had been explosive.

Silence was a technique he knew worked while a demand for answers rarely did.

“Who was the friend?” Dom finally asked.

“A woman named Lulu Starnes. Starnes was her married name.”

“That's why I didn't catch it,” he said slowly. “A different name.”

“Do you remember her?”

“She was Maggie's best friend. Her shadow. She would have done anything for her.” He put his head in his hands. “I shoved her out of my memory, just as I tried to erase Maggie. It never worked.”

“Why?”

“Maggie didn't believe me when I said I didn't steal the car, that the drugs they found weren't mine.”

“When did that happen?”

“We were talking about getting married. Her father hated the ground I walked on. I was part Cajun, the son of a tavern owner. I was nothing in his eyes. Less than nothing. He tried to stop her from seeing me.

“I was eighteen, just graduating from high school. She was seventeen. I met her when she and some friends came slumming to my father's tavern. We had good Cajun food. Good Cajun music. One of her friends had heard about it. The moment I saw her I was a goner. She was beautiful. Golden hair. Wide blue eyes. She started dancing with an old Cajun, her eyes sparkling like a lake dusted by sunbeams.

“I asked her for a dance, thinking she would refuse. She didn't, and I thought we'd both fallen in love at that moment.” He was obviously seeing her again as he talked. Gage could envision her through Dom's eyes.

“We started dating. Secretly. It made everything more exciting. At least for her. I was the community bad boy. I'd gotten into my share of fights. Borrowed a car on a dare. Stupid kid stuff, but I had a reputation.”

Gage wished now that he had brought Meredith along. But then would Dom had opened up as he was now doing? It was almost as if Gage wasn't there at all.

Dom squeezed his eyes shut, as if he were in agonizing pain. “Only a few people knew about us. She knew her father would disapprove. Lulu was one who knew. About the only time we had together was Saturday. She would say she was going to someone's home and drive down to meet me. Sometimes Lulu would come along.”

He shook his head. “It's hard to think of both of them dead. I liked Lulu because she liked me. And she often provided excuses for Maggie's absences.”

Dom stood again, started pacing the room like a convict paced a small cell. Habit, Gage thought. Dom was obviously recalling something very painful. He was thinking, too.

“Then I met Oliver Prescott. He saw us at a jazz place in the French Quarter,” Dom continued. “I shouldn't have taken her there. It was risky, but a friend of mine had a gig, and Maggie wanted to hear him. He came over to Maggie and asked to be introduced.

“One day when Maggie was on a field trip, he called me and asked if I would like to try his sports car. I'd admired it before. Like a fool, I jumped at the chance. I met him at his house and he handed me the keys. I'll never know why I was so stupid, but I was a kid with a kid's love for cars. And where I came from, we didn't see many imported sports cars.”

He didn't have to continue. Gage knew what was coming.

But Dom did. “I was arrested an hour later. The car had been reported stolen. There were drugs underneath the seat.

“My family didn't have much money but they used every penny they could borrow to get me a lawyer. It was my word against Prescott's. And because I'd taken a joyride a year earlier, I was considered a repeat offender. My father lost the tavern, and I was sentenced to ten years.”

Dom raised an eyebrow. “Even then that was a hefty sentence.”

“I suspect someone talked to someone.”

“Marguerite's father?”

He shrugged. “Never could prove it. Money ran out and so did my attorney.”

“And Marguerite?”

“I received a letter from her, telling me she never wanted to see or hear from me again. After that I didn't care much about anything. I was attacked and fought back. Earned a few more years. Then I met Father Murphy.”

“You must have run into Marguerite after your release.”

“No. I think we both did everything we could to avoid it. She never said anything about a child. I didn't suspect.…”

He closed his eyes. His fingers were balled in a tight fist.

“Dom?”

Dom opened his eyes and looked at him.

“Prescott? Do you know what happened to him?” Gage asked.

“I was still in prison,” Dom said. “It happened just before my release. But I sure as hell wasn't sorry to hear of his death.”

That was convenient. He saw from Dom's face he thought so, too.

Another dead end
. Dom obviously had no idea where Marguerite's daughter was.

“I want to find her,” Dom said. “I want to help you.”

“It could be impossible. There are no records in Memphis, not even a birth certificate. It's as if she never existed.”

“It's not impossible,” Dom said slowly. “If it was, someone wouldn't be so hell-bent to keep her hidden. There has to be reasons for the secrecy. So we start with the people around Marguerite and find out why they would go to such lengths to protect a secret.”

“The deaths may not have anything to do with her.”

“But you don't believe that or you wouldn't be here.”

“No,” Gage admitted. “I'm beginning to feel I'm in a maze that has no exit.”

“How did you find out about me?”

“Mrs. Starnes had a photo of you and Marguerite Thibadeau in front of your father's tavern. You've changed, of course, but I seemed to recognize the way you hold your head. Still, I wasn't sure until I traced down the tavern and discovered it was owned by a Cross.”

Dom looked at him curiously. “I thought you had been suspended.”

“I've taken a personal interest.”

“Why?”

“Meredith Rawson. She's opened something very nasty and she can't seem to close the door.”

“Does she want to close it?”

“No. She's determined to find her half sister. She promised her mother. She wants to split her trust fund with her.”

“I think I would like her,” Dom said with a whisper of a smile.

“You would. You both think you are Don Quixote,” he added wryly. “She wants to meet you, too.”

“Does she know …?”

“I didn't tell her about you. She knows I had someone in mind. I wanted to be sure first.” He hesitated, then asked carefully, “There couldn't have been anyone else?”

“No,” Dom said flatly. “Not if the baby was born in February.”

Gage believed him. “For what it's worth, I think the Rawson marriage was not a happy one.”

“I'm sorry about that,” Dom said, real regret in his voice. “I occasionally saw photos of Maggie. All the vitality was gone. The smile was different.”

So he hadn't been as indifferent as he first indicated.

Gage wondered whether that was why he'd never married. Whether he had been as disillusioned as Gage had been.

“Will you come home with me? I think she would like to talk to you.” Gage paused. “She lost both parents in a week. Now she's discovering that their lives were nothing but lies. I think she needs to hear that her mother was once happy.”

“I'm not sure she was,” Dom said. “I had thought so, but—”

A knock at the door interrupted them.

Dom opened the door, and one of his assistants came in. “Jayson's gone again.”

Dom sighed heavily. “I can't keep him locked up here. Did any of the other boys say why?”

“He's probably after drugs.”

“Did he take anything from here?”

“One of the other boys says he took money from him.”

“Then he doesn't come back. Elliott, you've met Detective Gaynor, haven't you?”

“I've watched him play basketball.”

Gage chuckled. “You saw me beat Dom?”

“I'm afraid I did.”

“He owes me a dinner.”

Elliott looked from one to the other. Despite the warm banter, tension was thick in the room.

Dom said, “I'll be gone for a few hours. Can you handle things?”

“I think so.” Elliot left.

“I should warn you,” Gage said. “Getting involved could be dangerous.”

“It's not only Maggie's daughter,” Dom said. “I want to know exactly what happened years ago. It could clear my name. Dammit. Eighteen years in prison.”

“Eighteen? You said you were sentenced to ten.”

“Some guys came after me. I knifed one to protect myself. Eight more years.”

Gage sat up in his chair. “Why did they come after you?”

Dom looked at him for a moment, then realization crossed his face. “You think the attack was planned.”

“Someone might have thought you would hunt Prescott down and discover who was behind him. There was no reason for him to frame you on his own.”

“That's one reason no one believed me,” Dom said. “And the fact that Maggie had disappeared.”

“She didn't testify for you?”

He shrugged. “She wasn't there. I don't suppose it would have helped anyway. She didn't know about Prescott's offer but …”

But he'd obviously felt betrayed. Pain was in every word he uttered.

Gage had known Dom for a long time. He was passionate in his crusade to help kids but otherwise had always been a good companion who loved a glass of beer and good conversation. Now Gage realized how self-controlled Dom was, how little he revealed to anyone.

“And she never contacted you again?”

“No,” Dom said, then paused. “She didn't say anything to her daughter about me?”

“According to Meredith, she just said a few words before lapsing into a coma. Apparently those few words took all her strength. She only said there was a daughter and she'd been born in Memphis in February 1970.”

Dom gave a bitter chuckle. “Silent to the end.”

“There had to be reasons, Dom.”

“Yeah, she didn't want the kid of a convict.”

“I don't think that was it.” Gage stood. “Let's go.”

Meredith paced restlessly. She looked through his bookcases. She'd discovered long ago that books revealed a great deal about a person.

But their eclectic nature told her little. There were mysteries, suspense, biographies, history, literary classics. He had stacks of
Sports Illustrated
. His CD collection was just as varied: jazz, blues, classical. A few oldies. No hard rock.

Beast stayed right with her, as if he knew he was to keep her safe. Or perhaps he, too, wanted companionship. Perhaps he even sensed her restlessness. And sadness.

Tomorrow, she would bury the mother she never really knew. And she couldn't even go home to get ready. Not without being in fear for her life.

She finally grabbed a book and sat down. For about two seconds. Then she was up again, staring out the window.

It was growing dark when she saw Gage's car drive up, another behind him. Gage got out and went over to the other car. The driver got out and she stared at him.

Recognized him. Dominic Cross. He was legendary in New Orleans.

The hard-driving director of a shelter for runaways and a passionate advocate for young people at risk. She had even met him several times, and she'd been intrigued by his craggy face. He must be in his mid-fifties, and his hair was short. If he was the intense-looking thin boy in the photo, he had gained weight. He had a powerful body now, and his face looked as if he'd been a fighter. Like Gage, his nose was crooked, and she doubted whether he'd broken it on a football field. Like everyone else, she knew he had once been in prison. It was a large part of every story in the shelter.

Her heart beat erratically. Could he have been the father of her half sister? It seemed impossible.

She went to the door and opened it before they reached it.

Gage gave her a victory signal from just behind Dominic.

So Dominic Cross had been her mother's lover all those years ago. She couldn't imagine a more unlikely one. And then she remembered the photo again. The laughter in her mother's face, the happy smile on her lips. The possessive way the young man had his arm around her. There had been an intimacy conveyed in that pose.

She stuck out her hand. “Meredith Rawson. I've met you before at the courthouse.”

He took her hand and held it a moment. “Gage told me about your search.”

Gage showed them to the living room. He stood, watching. “I think a drink is in order here.”

“A beer,” Dom said.

Meredith nodded.

Gage disappeared into the kitchen.

“I didn't know about the baby,” Dom said. “I was arrested—bail was set very high—and I heard her father had sent her to a relative in Europe. I never knew about a child.”

She heard the pain in his voice. “I think few people did.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Very little. She knew she was dying. I think she wanted to give me something. Perhaps even you.”