Blood of His Fathers (Sinners and Saints)

by Michelle Chambers

  Jason had broken through her emotional wall. She’d needed to remember her past for that to happen. And she’d needed to acknowledge what she’d been afraid to face. Her grandmother striking the fatal blow that had killed her husband.

  She wiped away the tears falling down her face and gazed out across the water at the small fishing boat silhouetted black against the rippling tide. It took a moment before she realized it was drawing nearer. Her heart thundered in her chest and an overwhelming feeling of anticipation bubbled through her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the vessel as it sailed toward the small dock she’d not noticed until this moment.

  Two men alighted from the small boat, talking and laughing as they stepped onto the beach and walked in her direction. Jess could hear the laughter of the taller man. It affected her, although she didn’t know why and she smiled. A quick hug, a pat on the back from one to the other and both men parted company. The shorter of the two disappeared through the palm trees lining the beach. The taller man continued in her direction.

  Jess slowly stood. Her brain frantically tried to piece together what it was she found so familiar about this man. She wanted to tear her eyes away, but she couldn’t. The man slowed his steps and then stopped dead in his tracks, his features illuminated in the moonlight. Introductions weren’t necessary.

  She stared into his gray glistening eyes. He had a much paler complexion, but his face was unmistakably hers. Neither breathed nor said a word and after what seemed like an interminable age John Thomas spoke, breaking the shocked silence.

  “Hello, Jessica.”

  Jess opened her mouth to return her father’s greeting, but her “hello” lodged in the dryness of her throat. She lowered her gaze and sat down before her knees gave way.

  He came closer. “May I sit down?”

  She nodded her ascent. The silence stretched taut between them.

  “This must be quite awkward for you,” John said.

  No. Strangely enough, she didn’t feel in the slightest way awkward. She quite simply didn’t feel. Of course there’d been the initial, natural curiosity to see her father when she’d learned of his existence. But having him seated so close to her now didn’t thrill or excite her as she thought it would. There was nothing. Whatever bond there once was between them had long been erased by time, distance and neglect. In one brief moment her curiosity had been satisfied and that was enough, wasn’t it? She finally turned her eyes onto him, seeing Jake’s face so clearly in his.

  “This isn’t how I anticipated our first meeting,” he said, holding her gaze. “I hoped one day you would want to find me, want to know me, but fate decided for us—for you—and I’m not sure if you’re happy about that.” His voice trembled. “But I am, Jessica. I can’t deny how happy I am to see you. I never thought I would have this chance.”

  “Up until three weeks ago, I never knew you existed. Mum thought it best.”

  “You know…about your mother and me?”

  “I don’t know everything, but I know more than I would’ve liked.”

  “You weren’t pleased to learn about me, were you?”

  “Yes…and no,” Jess admitted slowly. “At least I know where Jake gets his eyes.”

  “Jake?”

  “My son. He’s six.”

  “A grandson…” John blinked in surprise. “A grandson—”

  Jess caught his gaze. “It’s all right. I would want Jake to know you.”

  “And would you like to know me, Jessica?”

  Jess focused sharply at the vague yet familiar sound of his voice hitting her brain. Follow the moonlight. “We all need a period of adjusting,” she breathed.

  “I understand. You came here to heal and that’s what you’ll do.”

  She knew he wasn’t speaking of her wound. They sat again in silence, taking time to reflect, to comprehend and to adjust.

  “I was happy at High Rock until I was sent away,” she murmured wistfully. “I didn’t know that until I came back.”

  “You witnessed more than a young child should,” John countered softly.

  “I know. I remember.”

  “I’d hoped your mother would be a comfort to you, Jessica.”

  “I resembled you too much for that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jess shrugged off his apology. It sounded too earnest, and she didn’t want to like him.

  “What’s happened is all in the past,” she said. “And I’m no longer affected by the past.”

  The hazel eyes she first thought gray in the early light gazed intently upon her face. “I don’t believe you,” he said quietly.

  “You know absolutely nothing about me,” she parried. His perceptiveness irritated her. How dare he presume to know her thoughts? “Not how I think or what I feel or who I am.”

  “You’re quite right. I didn’t mean to offend.” John stood, but not before Jess saw the fleeting look of resignation in his eyes. “Perhaps we should return to the house,” he suggested quietly. She scrambled to her feet behind him.

  “You want something I can’t give you now,” she cried. She was angry with herself because she couldn’t hate him.

  “Now, or ever?” John countered. But he didn’t give her time to find an answer. “It’s the foolish old man who hopes his daughter will forgive him and embrace him and need him. But it’s the wise old man who knows he has made a mistake. The consequences of which have left him without a daughter…and a grandson.”

  “I said—” John held up a silencing hand.

  “I don’t know Jake, but I know you, Jessica, before you became a Wright or a McCormack. Once upon a time you were a Thomas. And once upon a time you were mine. How can you expect me to love your son, but not you?”

  Her anguish dissipated. She felt foolish. “I can’t—”

  “I know,” John said calmly. “You have your emotions tightly under control, always have I suspect. No one can get close to you to hurt you, right? I may not know what you think, but I know who you are and I do know what you feel because I’ve felt it too. Every day when you were not with me, Jessica.”

  She felt another pang of guilt.

  “The past no longer affects you because you won’t let it. Isn’t that right?” he asked.

  She’d made the decision long ago not to remain a victim of her circumstances. That meant burying her emotions so she could take control of her life. She wanted to turn away and run from her father, but Milly’s words weighted her to the spot.

  He’s a part of who you are, Jessica. How can you understand who you are if you don’t know where you come from?

  She raised her eyes and stared at John Thomas. She needed to give her father this chance. Not just for him, but for herself and her son. He waited, and then slowly opened his arms to her. She stepped into his warm embrace.

  “Forgive me, Jessica. I’m a foolish old man,” he whispered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Four o’clock. Christ!

  Drew blinked back the momentary disorientation of the early hour and reached for the cell phone buzzing incessantly on the small bedside table next to his head.

  “This had better be good,” he muttered irritably. “Yeah!”

  “You’d better get back here, Drew.”

  “Col? What? Why? What’s going on?”

  “When is a body not a body, Drew?”

  Drew’s instincts sharpened. He was instantly awake. He’d heard this one before. “When it doesn’t exist,” he murmured.

  “Bingo,” Colin said. His voice held a soft lilt of appreciation. “The dead body lying in the morgue is not General Nicolae Nastase.”

  “I knew it! It didn’t add up. The photos and the prints. How did you find out?”

  “The FBI.”

  “Who?”

  “Special Agent Wesson. He insisted on seeing the body for himself.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “How did he find out about Nastase?”

  “Apparen
tly Nastase has been on the FBI’s most wanted list for a number of years. Marsters insisted we notify our American colleagues.”

  “Marsters? How in hell—?”

  “I had to tell him something, Drew,” Colin challenged. “You’ve been gone almost two weeks following leads based on little more than hunches and speculations. And apart from gathering information for you I know precious little else. What are you still doing in the Bahamas anyway?”

  “Waiting on the results of a forensic examination. I swear I’ll fill you in on everything when I get back, but trust me. There’s something here. I know it. I can feel it.”

  “I know you do, Drew. That’s why I help you, but…Marsters has taken you off this case.”

  “What?” Drew swung his long legs from the bed. “Marsters had better have a damn good reason for this!”

  “This came from the top, Drew. Wesson spoke to the Commissioner yesterday afternoon. Adrienne’s re-examining the body as we speak, hoping to find new clues or something she may have missed that could help re-identify the man.”

  Drew swiped a hand through his hair. What was so damn important about that body that the FBI would want to close this case? And if the dead man wasn’t Nicolae Nastase, then who in hell was he? And where was the real Nicolae Nastase.

  “Drew…? Drew…?”

  “I’m still here, Col. Listen, tell Adrienne not to divulge any new findings until I’ve spoken to her first. I’m on the first flight back to England.”

  “What about the forensic results you’re waiting on?”

  “I’ve a good contact on this end. He’ll keep me posted.”

  Drew made a quick calculation. “Remember that place we went to after you made Detective Sergeant?” he asked carefully. “Meet me there tomorrow night around ten o’clock.”

  Drew threw the cell phone down on the bed and reached for his clothes. The last thing he wanted or needed was the FBI interfering in his investigation, certainly not at this stage of the game. But what bothered him even more was the fact there might be something he wouldn’t be allowed to find out. And that to Drew Mahon was like waving a red flag at a bull.

  * * * *

  Jess was in his arms and he was kissing her, caressing her. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, begging for entry. She leaned into him. She tasted so good. He breathed in her delicate scent and brushed his hand down the groove of her back, cupping her bottom and pressing her close. He wasn’t about to let her go again. She broke their kiss, smiled and whispered his name—

  The chilling sound of a gunshot rang through Jason’s head, shattering the dream like the tenuous bubble it was. With sudden realization he pushed himself upright and swung his legs from the bed, swiping a hand down his face.

  The telephone was ringing.

  He opened his eyes and heaved a frustrated sigh. The room was dark, so he hadn’t been asleep that long. Come to think of it, he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since his arrival. He snatched the receiver to his ear and barked his irritation into the line. The woman on the other end quickly informed him he had a guest in the lobby and abruptly hung up.

  He glanced at his watch. Four o’clock. Regardless of the time he was more than glad of the distraction. What bothered him was the purpose behind such an early visit. It never boded well. He rubbed the heaviness from his eyes and reached for his clothes.

  Nick had stayed aboard the Atlantis to chart and record the position of their new discovery. He’d wanted to dive again. To spend more time trying to determine her identity.

  And Drew had accompanied Inspector Forbes with their other find.

  Jason gave a slight tremor. The hand had been a gruesome find. It’d been Nick who’d radioed the discovery to the Nassau police, and it had been Inspector Forbes who’d stood waiting as they docked in the Bayshore Marina.

  Jason pulled on his shoes, grabbed his room key from the bedside table and strode to the door, wrenching it open. He made his way through the deserted hallway to the empty elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. The doors pinged open on Inspector Forbes standing at the reception desk, although Jason was hardly surprised.

  “Couldn’t this have waited until later this morning?” he asked upon approach, although he already knew the answer.

  “No.”

  He shot the inspector an expectant gaze and then followed him across the lobby to a secluded table.

  Inspector Forbes slid a small gold ring across the table toward him. “Remember this?” he asked.

  Jason picked up the gold band, turning it gingerly between his fingers. He read the inscription—1942—To my beloved Elizabeth—Paul.

  How could he not remember this ring? He’d found it attached to the fourth finger of a left hand drifting near the Lady Helen.

  “You’re a man full of surprises, Mr. McCormack,” the inspector murmured. “In the light of everything happening to your wife you still find time to search for treasure—and manage to unearth body parts.”

  Jason shifted beneath the weight of the inspector’s shrewd gaze.

  “I’ve questioned everyone on the Atlantis and they all seem to think you’ve discovered a previously unknown wreck to boot. I assume you had permission to dive for the treasure.”

  “The waters—five miles to the North and five miles to the East of High Rock belong to the Thomas estate. And since I own the estate, Inspector, the waters and everything in them belong to me.”

  The inspector smiled. “You see. This is why I don’t like coincidences. Which ship?” he asked.

  “We’re not entirely sure yet, but it could be the Lady Helen.”

  “Ah. The Lady Helen.”

  The inspector tapped his fingers on the table and reflected a moment longer before he spoke again.

  “When Detective Inspector Mahon told me it was your wife who’d nearly burnt to death in the fire at High Rock I decided to do a little research of my own. I remembered Elizabeth Roberts. Her first husband was Paul Thomas. He died in World War II, four months after he’d been drafted. Four months after they were married. This ring is her wedding ring without a doubt—”

  “But you don’t think it came from her hand,” Jason interpreted.

  “Elizabeth Roberts has been dead for more than twenty years, Mr. McCormack. It can’t be possible.”

  “Then whose hand do you suspect it is, Inspector?”

  “We’ll just have to wait for the forensic examination.”

  “But you do have an idea?” Jason stated. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting in the lobby of the Baja Mar at four o’clock in the morning interrogating me.”

  “It’s your wife I need to speak to, Mr. McCormack.”

  “I told you none of this concerns Jessica.”

  “I think it does. It struck me as strange that a young woman of her ilk should be found in such a remote part of Andros, in an old house not marked on any tourist map.” Inspector Forbes leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Jason’s face. “Like I said, I’ve been doing some research. I find the best method is still talking to the older folks.”

  “And what did you find out, Inspector?”

  “Apart from Elizabeth and her step-daughter, Carolyn, there was another, younger child living at the estate all those years ago. A little girl named Jessica.”

  Inspector Forbes’ eyes didn’t leave Jason’s face. “Many of the older folks living near High Rock remember the little girl. They also remember her being taken away on the night Elizabeth murdered her second husband, Henry Roberts. Carolyn Roberts is your wife’s step-aunt. And unless my thirty-six years of experience have failed me, I’m apt to conclude we’ve found her—or at least a part of her.”

  “You think my wife murdered her aunt, Inspector, and threw her body into a part of the ocean that happens to be the possible location of the Lady Helen? That’s preposterous. Why would she?”

  The inspector shrugged his shoulders. “Now, do you understand why I detest coincidence? Tell me where she is. I’m interested in knowing the
answer myself.”

  “This ring hardly proves a thing,” Jason said. “All you have is gut-feeling, hunches and speculation. Not one shred of evidence that Jessica could’ve had anything to do with her aunt’s death. And without a body, Inspector, you can’t possibly know the time of death.”

  “That’s true, but the security guard at Lyford Cay spoke to someone at the house before granting access to your wife. That’s an independent witness placing Carolyn Roberts in her home at the time of your wife’s visit. Carolyn Roberts is still officially missing, Mr. McCormack,” the inspector returned gravely. “Your wife is the last person to have seen her alive. I need to know what happened the morning of the twelfth at Lyford Cay.”

  Jason rose to his feet.

  “This doesn’t make any sense. Jessica wouldn’t do something like this. I know her heart.”

  “Do you, Mr. McCormack? Like your wife knows yours?”

  The inspector stood. “Let me ask the questions I need to know the answers to, Mr. McCormack.”

  * * * *

  Hushed tones stirred Jess from sleep. She couldn’t believe her father was awake again so soon. She looked at the clock. Barely an hour had gone by since they’d bid each other goodnight. She smiled and rolled from the bed, sliding her feet into a pair of well-worn slippers and reaching for Milly’s old cardigan.

  They’d spent the entire morning talking and she’d come away with an incredibly conscious feeling of self. Latent questions she’d been wholly unaware of but had consumed her all the same were answered without the need of having to express them at all.

  She paused behind the faded green partition pulled across the opening of her room, and then taking a deep breath stepped through into the living area.

  Her father held a small gold ring between his fingers and was sitting eagerly examining it in the sunlight streaming through the meshed window. She recognized Inspector Forbes who sat opposite him even though his back was turned to her.

  “This belonged to my mother,” John Thomas said. “How did you get it? She never took it off. Even when she married Henry Roberts. She would’ve gone to her grave wearing it.”