Fall Into Me (Heart of Stone) (14 page)

"It's
freezing out here, Tristan. Where's your coat?" she asked in a worried
voice.

"I'm
looking for you. Why are you out here?"

"I
was feeling cabin fever inside after working all day. I was going to go into
the city to see Jordan, but I decided not to. When it stopped snowing, I
figured I'd take a stroll around and see what the rest of the place looks like.
It's nice out here."

She
seemed okay and was making sense, so I guessed she wasn't having some episode
from her injury like the doctors had described. "It's cold out here. Let's
go inside."

Nina
held out her hand to take mine, and we walked back to the house together as she
described her day researching pieces for the Atlanta property. It was moments
like these that erased all the bad of my days—everything with Karl, the job I
had Daryl doing for me—and made me feel as if things were going to be okay
between Nina and me, no matter what came our way.

I
took her coat as we entered the house and felt for her cell. Sitting in her
pocket, it showed no calls at all. One of the disadvantages to living out in
the country.

"How
was your day at work? I was so busy talking about my day I didn't even ask how
yours went," she said as we sat down to dinner.

"Same
as always. Just another day at work," I answered, knowing it was a
half-truth but preferring her to believe that my days were like hers instead of
the nightmare that they were.

We
ate and then laid in each other's arms after as we watched one of her chick
flicks I hadn't wanted to deprive her of again. As if the universe had chosen
to give me a sign, Nina picked a film about some woman dealing with the death
of her mother. I watched and patiently waited until it was over to ask her
about her own mother's death, my conversation with Daryl weighing heavily on my
mind.

"Does
watching something like this make you think of your mother?"

Shaking
her head, she said it didn't, but I saw it did. The woman in the film had died
of cancer. Had hers?

"What
happened to your mother, Nina?"

Cuddling
up next to me, she quietly said, "She died of leukemia. It was fast, I
think. I was so young I don't really remember, but my father told me she didn't
suffer. They diagnosed her and a few weeks later she was gone."

The
sadness in her voice made my breath catch in my throat. I'd always thought that
losing my mother the way I did was better than watching her fade away for
months or years, but I could tell by what Nina said that it wasn't that way for
her. Maybe because she'd had so little time with her mother. At least I'd
gotten most of my life with mine.

I
kissed the top of her head and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry. I know it
hurts."

"Even
after all this time, it still does. I sometimes think of what it would be like
if she was still here."

"I
know. I think the same thing about my mother. What would she think of me
now?" I wondered out loud.

Nina
lifted her head and smiled. "She'd think you're an incredible success with
a great girlfriend."

"At
least the second part," I said, unsure if anything I'd done could be
considered a success.

"You
would have liked my mother. She was sweet and kind. My father used to say I was
just like her. Were you more like your mother or your father?"

"My
mother, I guess. Taylor was always closer to my father, so I naturally
gravitated toward her."

As
she curled up closer to me, Nina whispered, "Then I would have liked
her."

We
laid there silently thinking about the people we'd lost, good and bad, and for
the first time in a long time, I missed my mother. I rarely thought of her,
something that my shrinks always considered to be a serious problem. They'd
always talked about the need for me to mourn her, but I had mourned her. Just
not the way they wanted me to.

Nina
fell asleep on my chest as I remembered the last time my mother and I talked
alone just days before the plane crash. She'd been upset about my unwillingness
to do anything but party and sleep around, not that she knew the full extent of
either activity in my life. I'd pushed her off with my usual ability to charm
her as I always had as her favorite. I saw in her face the worry that I'd never
grow up and be the man she believed I could be or find someone to spend my life
with.

My
mother sat alone at the dining room table with three empty place settings. I
had no idea where my father and Taylor were instead of sitting with her for our
traditional Sunday afternoon dinner, but I'd just rolled out of bed a half hour
before and wanted nothing more than something to bring me back to life after a
night of partying till dawn. One thing was for sure. Sunday dinner around the
family dining table wasn't it.

She
looked up at me as I entered the room, her big brown eyes telegraphing she
wanted to talk to me. I knew what she wanted to say. It was always the same.

"Tristan,
come sit with me. I want to talk."

"I'm
just grabbing a roll and heading out, Mom. Maybe when I get back."

"Tristan
Ryder Stone, I want to speak to you."

Anytime
my mother used my middle name and said anything in that choppy tone, I knew
there was no escaping whatever she wanted. Sighing, I hung my head and pulled
out a chair at one of the empty places.

"I'm
concerned about you, sweetheart. You're twenty-four now. I realize you're not
like your brother, but you can't stay a boy forever."

If
she knew what I did with my nights, she wouldn't call me a boy. With a charming
smile, I said, "Okay, Mom."

"Tristan,
it's time you grew up. Again, I'm not saying you have to be just like Taylor, but your father and I are concerned that you don't seem to have any direction,
other than toward parties and girls. I want to see you settled and happy."

"My
father's concerned?"

I
knew by the look that crossed her face that it was only she who was worried
about me and my nightly behavior. I wasn't even sure my father knew I existed
most of the time, even though we lived in the same house.

My
mother reached out to touch my hand. I looked down at her long manicured nails
that screamed opulence and then up at her face to see those big brown eyes once
again fixed on me.

Two
could play at that game.

"I'll
settle down when I meet the perfect woman. You wouldn't want me to settle for
anything less, would you?"

Now
it was her turn to sigh. My usual answer never satisfied her. "Tristan, I
want to believe that you mean that and you aren't just playing on my
emotions."

"Who,
me? Your favorite son? I wouldn't do that," I said, oozing the charm that
never failed to work on her.

I
rose from the table and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Don't wait up. I
might spend the night in the city."

She
said nothing but simply smiled at me as I turned to leave. I felt her stare on
my back as I walked out, but I didn't turn around. There was no point. We both
knew that.

I
watched as Nina snored lightly on my chest and stroked her soft hair. For
whatever it was worth, I'd finally figured out that my mother was right. I just
hoped she could see that at least she'd been wrong about me finding someone to
love.

Chapter Fourteen

Tristan

I
chose a tie and closed my bedroom closet door. "Jensen, I want you at my
office at quarter after nine exactly," I instructed him as I fixed my tie.
"Michelle will have a package for you. I want you to bring it back here
and give it to Rogers. He'll know what to do with it."

"Yes,
Mr. Stone."

"Tell
Rogers to come here. I need to talk to him."

As
Jensen left, I dialed Daryl's number, hoping to catch him before he took off
for Pennsylvania. I'd thought about that storage unit all night and didn't want
him rummaging around in it, an unfeeling stranger rifling through Nina's
mother's things.

"Tristan?
How are you this morning?"

"Plans
have changed. I want you to keep an eye on Cal instead of heading out to
Plymouth Meeting. Text me address of the storage facility."

"You
sure you want to do that? You usually have me do the dirty work."

At
that moment, Rogers appeared in my bedroom doorway. "Daryl, you stay in
the city. And call me if you see anything I might want to know about."

"You
got it. Enjoy your day trip."

I
put away my phone and turned my attention to Rogers. "Jensen will have a
package for Nina. Make sure she gets it as soon as she gets up. I want you to
give her this note also."

"Will
you be going out of town, Tristan?"

Looking
up from my letter, I shot Rogers a glare. "Taking to eavesdropping
now?"

"Not
in the least. I just happened to hear part of your conversation, sir."

I
wasn't in the mood for his attitude this morning, so I ignored his use of sir
again and read over my letter to Nina.

Dear
Nina,

You
looked so cute lying there all curled up in bed that I didn't have the heart to
wake you up, but I had to leave on an emergency business trip. I hope you like
your new phone. Text me when you get this letter, and I'll call you this
afternoon.

Think
about me. I'll be thinking about you. Miss you already.

                                                                 Love,

                                                                 Tristan

Folding
the note in half, I slipped it into an envelope and handed it to Rogers. "Make sure she gets this."

"Are
there any other instructions?"

I
put on my suit coat and adjusted my tie in the mirror. "I don't know if
I'll be home in time for dinner, so make sure Nina gets whatever she wants. I
expect to hear that she was happy. Are we clear?"

Rogers' expression showed his hurt at my comment. "I would never do anything to
foster Nina's unhappiness, Tristan."

I
didn't entirely believe that, but I wasn't going to stand there and debate the
issue with him. "Just make sure, Rogers. I'll call you to let you know if
I'll be home for dinner."

As
I walked past him to leave, he asked, "Is she allowed to leave the
grounds?"

Sighing
in frustration, I stopped and turned toward him to see that same hurt
expression still on his face. "She's not a prisoner here, Rogers. I've had
enough of this. I'm doing my best to make things right. Just give me a
break."

I
didn't give him a chance to respond. I didn't care what he thought. I didn't
care what anyone thought but Nina. She was the only one I owed any explanation
to.

 Daryl
had texted me the address of the storage place right before I left, and less
than two hours later I pulled up in front of U-Store on Chemical Road in
Plymouth Meeting. The clerk behind the counter was barely out of his teens and
still working through an acne phase, so he was easy to get by. He also didn't
seem to have any knowledge of the law whatsoever, so all I had to do was tell
him I was Joseph Edwards' son and I'd lost my key to my mother's unit and he was
happy to oblige.

We
walked past a dozen green garage doors until we reached the last one in Row 8.
The clerk unlocked the door and turned to me with a smile. "If you need
anything else, Mr. Edwards, just let me know."

I
looked in and saw the 10 x 10 unit wasn't packed to the ceiling, thankfully.
Stacks of boxes four high lined the three walls, but it was organized so
someone could walk easily through the middle around a few chests and belongings
that weren't in boxes.

Now
that I was standing in the middle of Nina's mother's things, I suddenly realized
I didn't even know her name. All I knew was that she was the woman who'd given
birth to the one person I loved in the world and she'd died when Nina was young.
Her life was now only memories and her things stored in a dark storage unit.

A
feeling of guilt came over me as I looked at her entire life around me. I was
an intruder, a stranger about to search her things for something that had never
had anything to do with her.  It was like I was ransacking a grave for my own
benefit.

I
had to remind myself that I wasn't there just for me. If I didn't find the
evidence of my father's actions that Karl and his friends were sure Joseph
Edwards had hidden somewhere, they'd never leave Nina and me alone.

The
first box I chose solved the mystery of what Nina's mother's name was. Written
on the box were the words
Diana's Clothes
. That one had nothing but
clothes in it, so I moved to a second box filled with pictures. I stood there
as the photographs I looked at told the story of her life. Her in a 1960s
bikini at the beach. When she was pregnant with Nina's sister and sitting at a
picnic table on a beautiful sunny day. Diana at an art show standing next to a
sculpture with a blue ribbon on it. Nina's parents kissing under the mistletoe
at a Christmas party.

I
stared for a long time at the picture of Joseph and Diana Edwards, wondering
how they'd met and if they were happy. They looked like two people in love. Her
hair was long, much longer than Nina's, and darker brown. She was beautiful
like her daughter, and Joseph Edwards was a good looking man. A good six inches
taller than his wife, he had dirty blond hair. I noticed these things randomly
as my eyes remained riveted to that picture.

My
phone vibrated in my coat, and I pulled it out to see a text from Nina.
I
love my new phone! I'll finally be able to call out here. Wish you were here to
thank. :) Love you. Come back soon.

Her
text made me smile, but as I looked around at where I was, I wondered if she'd
still love me if she knew what I was doing. I couldn't think about that, though.
If this was what I had to do to keep her safe so we could have a life together
like those two people in the picture had, then I'd do it.

I
texted back
Miss you. Wish I was there with you right now. I'll try to get
back tonight. I love you
and put my phone away to get back to work, wanting
more than ever to get back to her.

Within
two hours, I'd rummaged through the three walls of boxes and found nothing that
appeared to be related to Joseph Edwards' work or his investigation into
anything concerning my father or Stone Worldwide. Turning to the middle of the
storage unit, I began to look through more boxes, but these were filled with
art materials like paintbrushes and sculptor's tools, along with paints, clays,
and stone. Diana Edwards had been an artist like her daughter, but I suspected
she wasn't a painter but a sculptor. Stainless steel tools and finished clay
and stone sculptures of animals, mythological creatures, and people filled a
chest that sat next to an artist's easel.

I
wondered if Nina knew her mother had been an artist. That she was very much her
mother's daughter. Hopefully, someday I'd get to tell her what I knew without
sounding like some crazy stalker guy.

Even
though I was sure I wasn't going to find anything I was looking for amongst everything
in the sculpture boxes and chest, I inspected each tool and piece of sculpture
the best I could without harming Diana Edwards' art. Finally, after I'd looked
at every item, I saw at the bottom of the chest sat a wooden box with the
initials DE carved into the top. Kneeling on the cold ground, I opened the box
and found a set of stone carving chisels. Just as with the other tools, they
had no identifying marks or symbols on them, other than the name of the company
that made them.

I'd
looked through every inch of that storage unit and found nothing. Disappointed,
I sat down on the ground next to the chest and hung my head. I'd hoped that I'd
be able to find some shred of evidence to give to Karl so Nina would finally be
safe, but there'd been nothing. I'd failed.

Diana
Edwards' chisel set box was still in my hands, and I traced the outline of her
initials as I sat there feeling lost as to what I was supposed to do next.
Maybe Daryl had another lead. Maybe there really was nothing to show what Nina's
father had found out. I sighed from the weight of this entire thing with Karl
and his insistence that there was evidence out there that could do them all in.
What had begun as disgust at my father's actions had snowballed into a problem
that I thought of day and night and still hadn't figured out how to solve.

As
I slowly traced her initials over and over, my finger moved the lid of the box
to reveal an inset that could be removed. Tipping the box over, I tapped the
lid and the center came out, leaving a small compartment open where a key and a
slip of paper sat. The key had no name or clue as to what it opened, but the
paper had written on it one word: Fidelity.

Quickly,
I typed into my phone the words fidelity and Plymouth Meeting, getting two
results that might be useful. There was a First Fidelity Bank and a Fidelity
Securities in that very town. Looking down at the key, I saw it had no grooves
like an ordinary house key or basic lock key. It was a safe deposit box key.

Had
Joseph Edwards left a key for his daughters to find something important in a
safe deposit box at a nearby bank in the event of his death? I could only hope
that was the answer, but since Nina and her sister were his only children,
there was no way I was going to convince a bank to allow me access to the box,
even if I had the key. A young kid working part time at a storage unit facility
was one thing, but a bank manager was going to be harder to fool.

I
stuffed the key and the paper into my pocket and called Daryl. If I could find
out more information about Kim's husband, I might be able to get the bank to
let me see what was in that box.

"Hey,
Tristan, how was your trip to Pennsylvania?"

"Daryl,
I need the name of Joseph Edwards' son-in-law. He's married to Nina's sister
Kim."

"Hang
on. I think I have that somewhere. Give me a minute."

As
I waited for Daryl to flip through the notebook he carried with him at all
times, I walked out into the sunlight, shocking my eyes after all that time in
that small room full of the remnants of Diana Edwards' life. Pulling the door
down, I turned to walk toward my car and prepared to drive to the closest of
the two banks.

"Sorry,
I knew I had it written down, but I couldn't find it. His name is Jeff
Hopkins."

"Okay,
thanks Daryl."

"What's
up, Tristan? What are you doing?"

"I'm
going to pretend to be Jeff Hopkins. I found a safe deposit key I think might
help give me the answers I'm looking for."

"Whoa,
before you go off and do whatever the hell you're planning to do, maybe you
should know something else about him other than his wife's name. They have two
kids—two girls—named Emily and Sarah. You know the guy's a lawyer, right? So if
you're planning to say you're him, you need to keep this stuff in mind."

"Right.
Kim's the wife, Emily and Sarah are the daughters, and he's a lawyer. How old
are the kids?"

Daryl
was silent for a moment. "Six and eight, I think."

"You
think?" I asked as I got into the car.

"Sorry.
I didn't spend a lot of time on anyone but Edwards' daughters."

"Okay,
Daryl. I have a hunch I found something here. I'll let you know."

"You
sure you want to do this, Tristan? I can be out there in no time and handle
things. That's what you pay me for."

"No,
I'm here already and I can do it. How hard can it be to pull off being a
lawyer?"

Daryl
laughed at my attempt at humor. "You might have to convince them not
because you don't look like you could be a lawyer but because you're wearing a
suit no small town lawyer could afford."

"Point
taken. I'll keep it mind, just in case."

"Just
remember this. People are more willing to do things for people who sweet talk
them. Use some of that charm I know you have and hope you get a woman at the
bank to help you. Also, pray you aren't going to a bank where they'd actually
know this Jeff guy. If they do, you're probably shit out of luck."

"Thanks
for the pep talk," I said sarcastically.

"All
you have to remember is charm. Let me know if you need help."

I
ended the call and started the car, programming the GPS to give me directions
to both locations. Fidelity Securities was closest, so I put the car in gear
and drove there first. I was lucky enough to have a female employee in her first
month on the job wait on me, but when she saw the key she knew it wasn't from
her institution. That left First Fidelity.

I
could only hope I'd be lucky enough to run into another young woman like the
first one.

First
Fidelity Bank was just what I'd hoped it wouldn't be. A small building on the
corner of Main Street and Park Avenue, it looked like a bank I had for my
miniature train set when I was a boy. I parked across the street and prayed to
God there would be more than two tellers and a branch manager who knew everyone
in town by their first names and what teachers they'd had in high school.