Secrets of Paternity (5 page)

“I've got stuff to make sandwiches. Let's eat while we wait for your son.”

She followed him to the back of the house into a beautiful kitchen with white cabinets, stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. The mix of old and new worked, for the house
and
the man, this time, now that she knew he wasn't part of a biker gang.

He pulled a deli tray from the refrigerator, grabbed a bag of sourdough sandwich rolls and set them on the counter. She had questions for him, questions she'd prefer to ask without Kevin there.

She was also enjoying sitting at his kitchen counter and watching him move around the kitchen. The distraction prevented her from firing the first salvo.

“What can you tell me about Paul's death that isn't in the police report?” he asked.

“What makes you think there's more?”

He met her gaze and held it, his eyes boring into hers, his expression serious, probably a skill from his bounty hunter days.

“Okay,” she said. “There's more.”

She should've known he wouldn't leave things alone.

J
ames had no doubt there was “more.” His suspicions weren't aroused by anything in the police report but by Caryn's body language. He knew when someone wasn't telling the truth, and her face was more open than most. He wanted to keep his distance, now that he knew who she was. But the attraction wasn't fading, and in fact was only being added to as he learned more about her—which was not a good sign.

“Tell me about the gambling,” he said, the food going untouched.

“There are things I don't want Kevin to know.”

“You call the shots.”

She studied him for several long seconds before saying okay. “I can only tell you what I've learned since he died. I wasn't aware of it before, except that I often wondered why we weren't doing better financially than we were.”

Her hands were folded in her lap. Her expression seemed neutral, but hurt dulled her eyes. Too many burdens, he decided. Too much to handle alone, as she undoubtedly had. Shame like that wasn't something people confided in others, especially a woman like Caryn, who wore her independence openly.

“Some men came to the house right after the funeral. They had notes, IOUs.”

“Signed by Paul?”

“Yes.”

“For how much?”

“Eight hundred thousand.”

Fury snaked through James, although he wasn't sure whether it was directed at the men or Paul. “You believed them?”

“Not at first. You hear about all sorts of scams that people try to pull on the family after someone dies, so I ordered them off my property. I had my phone in my hand, and I started to call the police. They told me if I did, that…” She closed her eyes and swallowed.

“That they would harm Kevin?”

She nodded. “Um, they told me to check out my bank statements and his pay statements, and all the other financial paperwork that Paul had always taken care of. They gave me a week. Then they came back. Well, that's not true. Someone was always hanging around the property, making sure I didn't run away, I guess.”

He could only imagine her fear. She should've involved the police, but he couldn't tell her that, not now that it was too late to do anything differently. “You found out they were right?” he asked.

“I couldn't verify the exact amount, but there should've
been a lot more money invested. And then there were the intangibles—I didn't know how much he'd won and lost, how much cash he would bet after a big win—or whatever he did. But we should've had a lot more in the bank, that much I know.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I can't believe I was so stupid. He'd always said he was handling it, and yet we never seemed to have enough. We didn't even have horses of our own. We boarded other people's.”

“Why didn't you question him if that was something that bothered you?”

“What can I say? It would be like complaining that he wasn't taking care of us. I loved him. I trusted him. I knew he took risks—he always had. It just never crossed my mind that he was taking financial risks.”

A hard lesson learned for her. She would never trust in the same way again, he thought.

“How did you come up with the payoff, Caryn?”

“Insurance.”

“They waited that long for payment?”

“Oh, sure. Mr. Nice Guys. They just demanded their pound of flesh with it.”

James's world exploded red.
“What?”

“Not that. Not me,” she said quickly, a hand outstretched. “I meant interest. Fortunately, because of the nature of his business, being a stuntman, he was well insured, and he'd never missed a payment.”

James drew a slow breath, settling himself. “Then you sold your ranch and moved here.”

“I wanted to come home. I wanted to feel the fog and climb the hills and smell the ocean again. I wanted hustle and bustle.”

“Were you isolated on the ranch?”

She jumped as the doorbell rang. He put a hand on her shoulder until she relaxed. He could kill Paul for what he'd put her through. Jolted at his thoughts, he pulled back mentally. Too close, too fast.

“Let's hope it's Kevin,” he said, heading out of the kitchen.

“You won't tell him about, you know, Paul and—”

“I won't.” He felt as protective as she did, although he wasn't sure that withholding the truth from Kevin was the best course of action. If he found out sometime about what his father had done…

“You said you would continue the investigation,” Kevin said, accusation in his voice when James opened the door. “But my mom's car is still here.”

“I want her involved.”

“I don't—”

“She has every right to be a part of this,” James said, interrupting. He couldn't threaten to back out, because he was afraid Kevin would do what he'd planned—investigate on his own.

“Fine,” the boy said after several long seconds had passed.

“Are you hungry? We'll figure out what we're going to do while we eat.” He wanted to put an arm around Kevin's shoulders as they walked. He knew he couldn't call himself a father, except in the loosest sense of the word, but he felt protective of Kevin already, and paternal. Maybe because he'd known all these years that he had a child out there somewhere, he'd harbored feelings that only needed physical contact to come to life. He sensed that beneath Kevin's belligerence was a deep-down grief that James wouldn't be able to erase, but maybe he could alleviate it some by finding the truth for him.

And now that James knew about Paul's gambling and the vultures who'd descended at word of his death, he realized Kevin might very well be right—that Paul was murdered.

James watched Caryn give Kevin a hug. After a few seconds, Kevin returned it briefly, then he took a seat at the opposite end of the counter, leaving two empty seats between mother and son—which meant James would have to sit next to either Caryn or Kevin.

He walked around the counter instead and set the deli platter between them to let them make their own sandwiches. He stayed where he was, standing, able to observe them more easily.

“This doesn't have to be awkward,” James said, looking back and forth between them. “It's an unusual situation, I'll grant you that, but there isn't any reason why we can't be comfortable with each other.”

“It's just…weird,” Kevin said.

“I agree, but for now why don't we just focus on what brought you here in the first place.”

“My father's murder.”

“His death, anyway,” James said. He watched Kevin build a huge sandwich and felt a certain satisfaction in seeing him relax enough to eat. “Was the wreckage of his motorcycle retained by the police?” he asked Caryn.

“Yes.”

“I'll see if it's stored anywhere. If so, I can have it shipped up to my mechanic and let him take a look.”

As they ate, they looked at the report James had put together. None of it was new to Kevin.

“What do you think we can find out that's different?” he asked James. “Who do we talk to?”

James resisted looking at Caryn. He knew she was
right—for now—that Kevin not be apprised of his father's gambling connections. Going headstrong into that criminal quicksand could be lethal. But he didn't have another realistic clue for Kevin to follow.

“Tell me why you think he was murdered,” he said.

“Gut instinct. He must've known something. Or seen something. There's always something going on in Hollywood.”

“That's pretty vague.”

“Look. I know my father. He knew that road! Someone did something.”

“Kevin's right about him knowing the road,” Caryn agreed, picking up the plates and walking around the counter. She turned on the faucet. “But it had been raining…”

Kevin turned on her. “Like that had never happened before? Come on, Mom. Get real.”

James interrupted. “Okay, first things first. I'll try to track down the wreckage. Caryn, have you gone through all his paperwork, anything that might lead to a clue? Someone needs to go through all that very thoroughly. Analyze it.” He hoped she got his hidden message that he wanted busywork for Kevin.

“I haven't sorted everything,” she said.

“I'll go through it,” Kevin volunteered. “Okay, Mom?”

“Sure.”

Finally showing some enthusiasm, he tossed his napkin on the counter and sprang out of the chair.

“Right this second?” Caryn asked.

“Yeah. I'll meet you at home. Bye.”

“Hang on,” James said.

Kevin stood still. He crossed his arms.

“I need something in return.”

James felt Caryn's gaze. He should've talked it over with her first, but there hadn't been any opportunity. “My father died last year, too,” James said. Kevin's expression didn't change. “My mother has been lonely and pretty depressed, as I'm sure you can imagine. Knowing about you, meeting you, would be good for her.”

“No way I—”

“It's the only thing I'll ask of you.”

Silence hung in the air. James didn't take his eyes off Kevin. Caryn said nothing. Would she intervene if Kevin said no?

“Okay,” he said finally, then he left.

The front door shut hard. Caryn turned to James. “I'm sure he meant to say thank you for dinner and for helping him—us—find out the truth.”

“Remains to be seen. If it was organized crime Paul was involved in, we probably won't get answers, not without endangering one or all of us.”

“I don't want that.”

“I know.”

Drying her hands on a dish towel, she leaned against the counter. “I'm sorry for misleading you last week.”

“I understand why you did it.”
But what are we going to do about the attraction that was so obvious? You followed me, flirted with me.
“I'm sorry I didn't talk to you first about my mother.”

“If someone had offered me that kind of distraction during the worst of my mourning, I would've been grateful.”

“Will you give me your phone number now?” he asked, pushing a notepad in her direction.

She smiled, then wrote down the information.

“When do you work?” he asked.

“Monday through Friday from 6:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.”

“Where?”

She fished a set of keys from her pocket. “At the GGC.”

The GGC, or Golden Gate Club, was a private golf and tennis club almost as old as the Golden Gate Bridge. The shift she worked wouldn't be as lucrative as evenings and weekends. She would probably have to be there for a while to garner those premium shifts.

She jingled her keys. “Kevin has a crush on one of my coworkers, Venus.”

He grinned. “Venus? Does she look like a goddess?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Her eyes finally took on some sparkle. “She's twenty-three, blond, bubbly and with a body straight out of every teenage boy's dream.”

“When can I meet her?”

She smiled. He might have, too, except it struck him that Cassie would've reminded him that it wasn't unusual for him to date women that age.

“Maybe you'll talk to him about it, give him some advice,” Caryn said.

“Like, wear a condom?”

She gave him that cool look he'd liked so much the other day, and he laughed, then lightly touched her arm.

“He's eighteen, Mysterious. Eighteen-year-old boys like the kind of woman you've described. They like them a lot. What kind of interaction do they have?”

“Interaction?”

“Do they talk? Or flirt? Does she treat him like a kid brother? Does she cozy up to him?”

“She doesn't discourage him.”

“When do they see each other?”

“She's new to waiting tables and has no family in San
Francisco. I kind of took her under my wing. She's around, off and on.”

“Does Kevin have a job?”

“He's been putting in applications here and there but nothing so far.”

“Want me to see what I can do?”

Her brows lifted. “That would be great.”

“What's he looking for?”

“He's very good in math, not so good with the written word, is fascinated by guns and is a pretty good athlete.”

“So, he can deliver pizzas?”

She laughed, a no-cares sound that pleased him. It had taken a long string of conversation to get her to relax to that point.

“Is this as weird for you as it is for me?” he asked as they walked to the front door.

“Weirder.” She sounded relieved to voice it out loud.

“It changes what we got started last week, doesn't it?”

She fixed her gaze on him. “What we got started?”

“The flirtation,” he said, testing the waters. He needed to know where he stood, how to proceed with a relationship that was bizarre, yet oddly right. “Or was that a game to throw me off track?”

“You want the truth?”

“Absolutely.”

“I couldn't help myself.” She blew out a breath. “I know that complicates things.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I guess we'll just take it a day at a time.”

She nodded. He appreciated that she didn't discount the attraction, especially since it sat there between them like a curious creature out of a vivid dream.

“Why'd you do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Agree to the artificial insemination.”

The reason flashed like lightning in James's mind, but he doused it. “That's a story for another day, I think. Kevin is waiting for you.”

“Now you have me curious, James.”

“My friends call me Jamey. You're welcome to, if you want.”

“You're ducking the issue.”

“I'd rather tell you when we have more time.” He opened the front door for her. “How much busywork are you giving Kevin by having him go through Paul's papers?”

“Depends how fast he works. There's actually quite a bit. Maybe I can get him to organize and file it, which is something I haven't gotten around to doing.”