by Layne, Ivy
“He find anything?”
“Don't know yet.”
Apparently not worried about interrupting Lucas, Griffen grabbed a cup of coffee and headed down the hall to the office. The rest of us followed. Lucas stared into the laptop screen, a smug smile on his face. “I found the books for the business. The real books.”
I noticed a thumb drive stuck in the side of the laptop.
“Anything else?” Knox asked, leaning over Lucas' shoulder to check out whatever was on the laptop screen.
“A file with a list of account numbers.”
“The account numbers we're looking for?”
“Too soon to tell,” Lucas said. “I can leave the laptop here, I don't need it anymore, but I'll bring everything back to Atlanta and let you know. I need to do a little more digging.”
My knees went a little wobbly at the idea that Lucas might have found what they were looking for. If they had the account numbers, Knox didn't need me anymore.
No. I wanted Knox to find the account numbers. I wanted his mom to be safe, his family to be safe.
If Tsepov had his money, he'd forget about me and Adam. I wanted Tsepov to go away, right? Of course, I did.
Then why did I feel so deflated at the knowledge that Lucas might have solved Knox's problem and not mine?
Griffen hadn't found Trey's hiding place. I still didn't have the adoption contract or Adam's birth certificate.
Griffen looked at his watch. “We need to head to the airport soon.”
They were leaving for Atlanta after lunch. Charlie had to meet her subs at their latest flip house first thing Monday morning, and there wasn't much more Lucas and Griffen could do up here.
I'd be sorry to see them go. Much less sorry to be alone with Knox, especially since I wasn't sure how much longer he'd be around.
A beep erupted from my phone and Knox's simultaneously. The driveway alert. Not quite an alarm, it let us know a car had turned off the main road and down the long, narrow driveway.
I wasn't surprised to see the Black Rock cruiser pull up in front of the house. Who else would be here but Dave? Knox's hand closed around my elbow when I moved to answer the door. “Let Lucas get it.”
I didn't have to ask why. Lucas grinned. “Why? Who's this?”
“The deputy I told you about.”
“Oh. Yeah, let me answer the door.”
I didn't laugh at the expression on Dave's face when Lucas opened the door, but I wanted to. His jaw dropped a fraction as his eyes scaled up, and up, to where Lucas' head brushed the doorframe.
Dave took an involuntary half-step back before he straightened his shoulders. “I'm Deputy Dave Morris of the Black Rock police. Who are you, and what are you doing in Lily Spencer's house?”
“Lucas Jackson with Sinclair Security. Is there something wrong, officer? Something I can help you with?”
“I, uh, I came by to take Lily to lunch.” Dave leaned around Lucas, eyes searching for me.
Lucas didn't move out of the doorway. “Lily has plans for lunch. I'll tell her you stopped by.”
“I'm not leaving until I see Lily,” Dave said mulishly.
Lucas didn't move. I was a little curious to see how long the standoff could go on, but I didn't know if I'd be in Black Rock on my own after Knox eventually left. It wouldn't pay to make Dave angry.
I pulled free of Knox's hand and moved into the doorway, nudging Lucas to the side.
“Hey, Dave. You working on a Sunday?”
“I'm on call. Wanted to see if you could leave Adam with Sinclair and go to lunch with me.”
From behind me, I heard a choked laugh. Charlie. I wanted to laugh, too.
Why did Dave keep asking me out?
What was the point?
Knox claimed he was attracted to me, but I didn't see it. Unless he was trying to get me into bed, so he'd have better access to the house. Knox had said he was searching for something. Either way, it wasn't going to happen.
“Dave, I'm so sorry, but you can see I have company—”
“They work for you. They're not company.”
I closed my eyes in a long blink, hoping it hid my annoyance. “Dave, I'm sorry, but I'm not free for lunch, and I told you, Knox isn't here to babysit.”
“What is he here for, exactly?” Dave challenged. “This is Black Rock. We don't have any crime. A couple of teenagers messing around isn't anything to worry about, Lily.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if he could keep his words confidential. Ridiculous, considering that Lucas stood right next to me, Knox, Griffen, and Charlie only a few steps away.
Dave could whisper and they'd still hear every word.
“I'm just worried they're taking advantage of you. Convincing you you need protection and running up their bill. You're fine. You don't need them.”
Lucas put his arm around me in a show of friendly affection. Dave's eyes narrowed. He started to speak. Lucas got there first.
“Didn't Lily tell you? Sinclair isn't billing her. She's not a client. Trey was tight with the old man. His sons consider Lily's security a family issue, so you don't need to worry about us soaking her for equipment and monitoring she doesn't need. We're here to look out for her. Got it?”
Dave's shocked eyes turned to me. “Lily? Is that true?”
I didn't know what to say. It was the first I'd heard of it. Lucas stepped back and Knox took his place, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me into his side. I tried not to think about how well I fit there as he said in a low voice, his eyes on mine, “I told you you weren't just a client, Lily.”
He'd said that, but I hadn't believed it. I wasn't sure I did even now, but I didn't mind them using that story to get Dave off my back.
Temporarily out of protests—and reasons to hang around—Dave stepped back off the porch, his eyes hard on Knox's arm around me.
“Okay, Lily. You know you can always call if you need something.”
“I know. Thanks, Dave.”
He threw up a hand in a halfhearted salute before getting into his car, gravel spitting out from beneath his wheels as he executed a jerky three-point-turn and shot down the driveway.
My eyes on the dust clouds he left behind, I couldn't stop my laugh when Charlie said, “What's up with the deputy? Was that weird, or is it just me?”
“No, Princess, that was weird. What is up with the deputy?”
Slowly, I said, “He was best friends with Trey. He feels an obligation to look after Adam and me since Trey died.”
Knox choked back a laugh. “Deputy Dave has his eye on Lily. And, when he invited himself over for dinner, I caught him on camera searching Trey's office.”
Griffen and Lucas' attention sharpened. Griffen asked, “You think he was working with Trey?”
“It's a possibility. If he wasn't, he wants something he thinks is in this house.”
The timer for the brownies went off. I ducked out from under Knox's arm and went to pull them from the oven. The others followed me into the kitchen as I set the brownie pan out to cool and started working on the caramel sauce.
From behind me, I heard Griffen say to Knox, “Tsepov may not be in custody for long, you know that, right?”
Knox grunted in response. I'd take that as a yes. I hadn't really thought about it, but someone like Andrei Tsepov probably had good lawyers and plenty of money for bail.
Griffen continued, “If he gets out, I think the three of you need to come home. It's not safe for Lily and Adam to be on their own.”
“We'll see,” was all Knox would say. I understood Griffen's logic, but I didn't like the idea of leaving Black Rock.
If I had Adam's birth certificate and the adoption contract—legal proof I was his mother—I'd be out of here like a shot.
Without that, I wasn't going anywhere.
>
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lily
Hey, do you care what happens to Trey's desk?”
Knox asked the question with innocent expectation, but there was a spark in his eye that hinted at destruction.
Did I care what happened to Trey's desk?
Not the tiniest bit.
“Do what you have to do,” I said.
Knox nodded and disappeared. He'd spent the day before pulling apart the crawlspace under the stairs where Griffen thought Trey might have had a hiding spot. It had been nothing more than conduit and pipes. Now it was a great big mess.
I didn't care about the mess. I cared about not finding what we were looking for. I cared about being trapped in this house. In this town. I cared about Adam's safety.
Knox could tear this place to the ground, and if he found that birth certificate in the process, I'd rejoice.
After a long debate, we'd taken Adam to preschool the day before. He'd had enough upheaval. He needed normalcy, but neither of us felt comfortable dropping him off and driving away.
Instead, I grabbed us coffees and joined Knox in the car to stake out the church. On a Monday morning, the church was not the center of excitement. No excitement was good but boring. Very, very boring.
We picked up Adam, hit the grocery store for more supplies, and headed home, Knox to tear apart the crawlspace and me to start packing.
Packing for what? I wasn’t exactly sure.
One way or another, Knox had promised we'd solve the problem of Adam's birth certificate. I'd chosen to believe him, to push away the doubt gnawing in my gut and believe in Knox.
Once I had the legal paperwork proving that I was Adam's mom, we were not staying here. I didn't know where we were going. It didn't matter yet. We were going somewhere, so I might as well prepare.
I packed in two stages. First, I set aside enough to hold us for a few weeks if we had to leave quickly.
I was still reeling from the sudden attack of Tsepov's men, from finding out what Trey had been into and how much danger he'd landed on our doorstep. Andrei Tsepov was in FBI custody, but no one seemed convinced he'd stay there.
If he got out, we wouldn't be safe in Black Rock. I wanted to be ready for anything. Just in case.
It was past lunchtime when my stomach growled, and I looked at the clock. I'd left Adam in his bedroom, occupied with the agonizing decision of which five toys he wanted to take with us.
If we had to leave in a rush, I wanted Adam to be prepared. I stuck my head into his room to find him frowning down at three stuffed animals, a garbage truck that made sounds when it rolled, and his favorite book.
“The book doesn't count as part of the five, baby doll. Set aside the books you want, and if it's too many, we'll figure it out later. Are you hungry for lunch?”
As if his stomach woke at the sound of the word lunch, Adam popped to his feet, wrapping his arms around his waist and doubling over. “I'm so hungry, Mom.”
I raised an eyebrow. Leaning down, I pressed my ear to his stomach, pretending to listen. “Uh-huh. Maybe… Okay, absolutely.”
“What did it say?” Adam asked, mostly sure his stomach hadn't said anything, but not entirely convinced.
Deadly serious, I responded, “It said that you want broccoli with hot sauce. That's fine, I bought broccoli at the store yesterday, and we have plenty of hot sauce.”
“No way! I only eat broccoli if you put cheese on it, and I don't like spicy. Tell my stomach I want something else.”
“What do you want?” I asked, taking his hand and walking down the stairs.
“I don't know, what do we have?”
“Broccoli and hot sauce,” I answered.
“Moooom.” Adam pulled his hand from mine and ran down the hall to Trey's office. “Mr. Knox! Mom's trying to make me eat broccoli and hot sauce for lunch. Make her let me have something else!”
He skidded to a halt in the doorway and stopped, bracing his hand on the frame. “What did you do?” he asked in awe.
I hurried my steps to catch up, clearing the doorframe to find Knox sitting in front of Trey's desk, surrounded by scraps of wood. It looked like he'd taken a hammer to the inside of the thing.
Walking around to the other side I crouched and looked underneath. The frame of the desk remained, but the internal structure had been pulled apart.
On the floor beside Knox sat a strongbox, about a foot and a half long, maybe twelve inches wide, and at least 4 inches tall. Trey could have hidden a lot in a box that size. I couldn't imagine how he'd stashed it in the desk.
My heart sped up, my chest tightening, leaving me breathless. Knox caught my gaze and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. His eyes landed on Adam, then back on the box, and I understood.
“Lunch?” I asked, doing my best to sound normal. Knox got to his feet with a fluid grace.
“I'm not that crazy about broccoli with hot sauce,” he said, “I thought we got deli meat yesterday. I was thinking a turkey sandwich with cheddar and some chips.”
I hummed in the back of my throat, pretending to think it over. “You sure? A turkey sandwich is better than broccoli with hot sauce?”
Knox's laugh rumbled behind me. His arm shot out to wrap around my waist, pulling me into him. Lips dropping to my ear, he murmured, “I'll eat anything you make me, Lily. Even broccoli with hot sauce.”
Adam raced ahead of us, seating himself at the table and starting a serious discussion with Knox about which books to bring on our trip.
I leaned into the refrigerator to pull out lunch meat and cheese, avoiding Knox's curious glance at the mention of a trip.
I wasn't ready to admit I was okay with leaving. One step at a time.
Knox helping, I assembled sandwiches by rote, shaking a pile of chips on each plate and finishing the meal with sliced strawberries, the entire time my mind fixed on that black strongbox in Trey's office.
I don't remember what we talked about over lunch. I barely tasted my sandwich. All I could think about was the box.
Finally, plates cleaned, Adam took off, his mind made up on three of the books he planned to pack. The second he was out of earshot, I said, “When did you find that box?”
“About two minutes before Adam walked into the room. I need a little time with the lock. I don't want to force it until I know what's inside. Any chance you have a key?”
I pushed back from the table and went to the junk drawer in the kitchen, the central repository for all sorts of stuff we had no idea what else to do with. Including keys. There were extra keys to the house, keys to the cottage, both new and the original keys that no longer worked. Keys to the outlet covers down on the dock. Nothing the right size for a strongbox.
Knox sifted through the bin of keys himself before agreeing that the key to that strongbox wasn't in my junk drawer. I followed him back to Trey's office and watched, fascinated, as he pulled out a small, black, zippered case and opened it to reveal a set of shiny silver sticks. What was he going to do with those?
Clearly, I watched too many old movies and not enough detective shows. It was apparent as soon as Knox pulled two of the silver sticks from the case and slid them into the lock of the strongbox. Concentrating, making tiny shifts in the position of the lock picks, he said under his breath, “Slide the light closer, Lil.”
I did, watching as his fingers flexed and turned. He traded out one of the silver sticks for another and went back to probing and turning. The lock popped open.
I'd expected to feel a surge of triumph. Excitement. Instead, my stomach sank, heavy with dread. What if it wasn't there? What if we didn't find it?
Knox lifted the lid, and despair was shoved out by a surge of hope. Legal size envelopes. Documents. Knox shuffled through them, holding up a hand when I reached out.
“I know you want to see what's here, but
give me a sec.”
I let my hand fall to my side with a low grunt of frustration, ignoring the quirk of Knox's lip at the sound. He wouldn't think it was so funny if our positions were switched and I was hogging all the newly discovered…whatever it was.
Trey had hidden a strongbox in his desk, hidden it so thoroughly Knox needed to tear the thing apart to get to it. What had he put in there? And why?
Knox held up an unsealed, white, rectangular envelope and shook out the contents. A piece of paper with handwritten notes and two documents, 8.5 x 11, identical in almost every way, from the watermarked red and white paper to the state seal on the bottom corner.
Issued by the state of Alabama, both of them showed Adam Michael Spencer, Adam's birthdate and Trey Carlisle Spencer as the father. One birth certificate had the mother's name scratched out, the ink completely scraped off the heavy paper. The other certificate listed me.
I stared at the two documents, completely nonplussed. Two? My voice sounded thin and weak to my own ears as I asked, “Is one of those a fake? They can't both be legal.”
Knox held them up to the desk lamp, studying the weight of the paper and the impressions left by the seal. After a few minutes, he lay them on top of the desk, side-by-side.
“My lawyer in Atlanta has some experience with family law. What he doesn't know he can refer out. I'll ask him to look into this. These both look legitimate. I think when you adopt a second certificate is issued. The good news is that you have a birth certificate—”
“—the bad news is, it might not be the one on file with the state,” I finished.
Knox slipped both birth certificates back into the envelope and examined the other piece of paper, the handwritten notes in a kind of shorthand that didn't make any sense to me. L.G. Who was L.G., and what did they have to do with Adam's birth mother?
Knox ran his finger down the neat lines of notes, stopping on one to murmur, “LeAnne Gates. Son of a bitch.”
He moved his finger back to the top and started again, clearly seeing something in the numbers and notes that I didn't. When he was done, he said, “Payments. L.G. LeAnne Gates. The dates on these—he was still paying her when he died.”