“No!” she said, cutting off his words. “There is no way my dad would be behind the break-in and the fire.”
“Yet you accept that he could have been behind the abduction of an infant?”
“No. Yes. That’s different. You said it yourself. He and my mom were desperate for a child. And they didn’t intend to harm me. They loved me.”
“He could be desperate to avoid charges now,” Jake said. “There’s no statute of limitations on kidnapping, and the U.S. has an extradition treaty with Australia.”
She uncoiled from the corner of the couch and leaned forward to grab Jake’s shoulders. “Would the Grossos pursue that?”
“They only want to find their daughter.”
“Thank God.”
“But Floyd wouldn’t know that. If you are Gina, then he has valid reasons to want this investigation stopped.”
She wanted to shake him, but he was too solid and barely moved. She stabbed a finger at his chest instead. “My father might have made mistakes, and he might have done something awful to the Grossos years ago, but I don’t believe he would do anything criminal now.”
“Becky…”
“What about the blogger? The person who put the story about Gina on the Internet? Whoever that is obviously knows about the kidnapping.”
“The blogger wouldn’t want to stop the truth from coming out after revealing the story in the first place.”
“Then what about the other women who claimed they were Gina?” she asked quickly. “Any one of them might have resented the way you ruled them out and could be trying to get even. Or maybe there’s someone else who hasn’t come forward yet. They wouldn’t want you to prove I’m Gina because that would ruin their chances. Did you think of that?”
“It’s possible.”
“So why are you fixated on blaming my father?”
“Becky, please, calm down.” He took her hand from his chest and squeezed it. “I’m not fixated on anyone. I’m only trying to protect you, but I can see that I’m making a mess of explaining myself. I haven’t even gotten to the main reason I came over.”
“There’s more?”
“You need to make sure you lock and chain your door whenever you’re in this apartment. I’ve asked Len to send a patrol car through the neighborhood at frequent intervals. You’d better keep your phones turned on, too,” he added, getting to his feet. He went to the hall to switch her phone ringer back on, then returned to stand at the end of the couch. He made no move to sit. “And until this is over, I don’t want you going anywhere on your own. If you need to go out, let me know and I’ll go with you.”
She frowned. “Don’t you think that’s excessive?”
He regarded her in silence for a moment. His fingers tightened around the head of his cane. “Do you remember reading about the death of Alan Cargill?”
Becky nodded. Everyone around NASCAR had grieved when the patriarch of the Cargill team had been killed. “Tara told me about it. She was at the awards banquet when it happened.”
“I’ve spoken with the detective handling the case. We both think there’s a possibility it’s related to the abduction of the Grossos’ baby.”
She felt a chill. “How?”
“The killer might have wanted to silence him.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered, rubbing her arms.
“I’m not telling you this to upset you, Becky. It’s for your protection. Regardless of who Bocci is working for, you need to be aware there could be some risk in continuing the course we’ve set.”
“What are you saying? Do you want me to give up?”
He didn’t reply right away. “Technically, I’m employed by the Grossos so it would be their call, but I don’t think giving up would make you any safer. The only real solution is to get indisputable proof of who you are. Or who you aren’t.”
“Another DNA test.”
“Yes. I’ve contacted Kent. He’s willing to provide another sample later this week.”
“Great. I’ll do the same.”
“We’ll have to use a different lab. Len’s going to arrange it through police department channels, and this time we’ll make sure there’s no paper trail to follow.”
She chewed her lip while she tried to process what he’d said. Finding her birth family had been her dream. Getting close to the truth should have made her happy. Instead, the whole affair was turning into a nightmare. She shoved herself off the couch and paced to the living-room window.
“Becky, are you all right?”
She looked blindly at the moonlit yard. “I just can’t believe the man who raised me, the man I called father for my entire life, would do anything to hurt me.”
“Not intentionally, no. But your father has a strong motive to keep the truth buried. Ralph Bocci is bad news. He’s got an arrest record that stretches back to his teens and he might not follow instructions all that well.”
“Someone else could have hired Bocci.”
“True. There’s a definite possibility another party is involved.” He paused. “But it’s also true that sometimes the people we love don’t deserve our trust. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
There was something in his voice that caught her attention. A hint of sadness. She shifted her focus so she could see his reflection in the glass. “Who are you talking about, Jake?”
“What do you mean? We were talking about Floyd.”
“I’m not so sure.” She lowered the blind over the window and turned to face him. “You sounded as if you were thinking of someone else. Who let you down? Who didn’t deserve your trust?”
“This has nothing to do with me.”
“I think it does. I know you’ve got a problem with trust. You can’t understand how I can trust my father, but you said you get along with your family.” She narrowed her eyes. “This has to be about your engagement.”
“That’s old history.”
“Is it?”
Jake lifted his hand impatiently. “We’ve already established the fact that you and I are wired differently when it comes to risk. Let’s leave it at that.”
“No, I’d like to know,” she persisted. “Did your fiancée let you down? Did she cheat on you? Is that why you’re so averse to the idea of love and trust? Because she hurt you?”
“You’re only asking this because you’re upset and trying to change the subject by turning it on me.”
“That may be, but your personality colors everything you do, and it’s skewing your view of the facts.”
“I can say the same about you.”
“You already have. You’re making me question my faith in my father. You’re ripping apart my life. Don’t you think I have a right to know about yours?”
He pressed his lips together, as if he were trying to restrain himself from responding. Then he moved around the couch, placed both hands on the head of his cane and leaned toward her. “You’re right about one thing, Becky. My personal feelings have been getting in the way of my judgment when it comes to this case. And it’s true, I don’t put much faith in love, and I do have a problem with trust.” His voice roughened. “But you’re wrong about my fiancée. Heather didn’t cheat on me. It would have been simpler if she had.”
“But she did hurt you.”
“I can’t tell you whether she did or not, because the day she left I was still in the hospital and too doped up with painkillers to feel much of anything.”
She took an involuntary step backward, grasping the windowsill to steady herself. In spite of what he claimed, she could see the shadow of remembered pain in his eyes. “What happened, Jake?”
“We had postponed our wedding because of Desert Storm. I’d wanted to have a quick ceremony before I was deployed, but she’d been planning it ever since we’d been in high school. I didn’t want to disappoint her, so we were going to get married when I got back. Then this happened,” he said, whacking his cane into his bad leg.
He didn’t appear to feel the blow, but Becky flinched a
t the violence of his gesture.
“The doctors said I’d never walk again,” he continued. “Heather didn’t want to be tied for life to a cripple. I’d always been the one to take care of her, and she couldn’t conceive of having our roles reversed so she left.”
“My God,” Becky muttered. Any anger she might have been feeling toward Jake transformed to outrage on his behalf. She’d thought Jake’s accident and his broken engagement had both contributed to his cautious nature. She’d never guessed the two events had been related. This was worse than she could have imagined. He’d said he’d been on painkillers, but no medication in the world would have dulled that suffering. “How could she have deserted you when you needed her most?”
“I was no longer the same man she’d agreed to marry. Obviously, she wasn’t the woman I’d thought I’d known, either. She probably saved both of us from a lifetime of misery.”
She moved away from the window and curled her hands around his where he gripped his cane. “I’m sorry, Jake.”
“Don’t be. Heather did me a favor. If it hadn’t been for her, I might not have been so damned determined to prove the doctors wrong.”
“But she was wrong. You were still the same man you’d always been. It was just the outside that had changed.”
He shook his head. “No, Becky. I did change. I got smarter.”
“You mean you got cynical.”
“Take it from me. It’s always better to discover the truth about someone sooner rather than later.”
She lifted her hands from his and cradled his face in her palms. The truth? It continued to develop before her eyes. In a few terse sentences, Jake had revealed a betrayal that must have sliced him to his soul. The more she learned about him, the more she realized there were other facets she had yet to discover. She’d once been impressed by the strength he’d needed to overcome the injury to his leg. That paled in comparison to the strength of character he’d needed to heal his heart.
Then again, his heart couldn’t have healed entirely. That was why he was so adamant about not taking another chance with love or marriage. Heather’s betrayal had left deep scars. Was it any wonder he was unwilling to lay himself open to that kind of pain again?
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t want your pity, Becky.”
“I don’t pity you, Jake. I…” She caught her breath on the word she was about to say. She slid her hands to Jake’s neck and stretched up to kiss him.
He held himself stiffly, not responding.
Becky pulled back to look at his face. “I don’t pity you,” she repeated. “I just want to kiss you.”
“Why?”
She grasped the front of his shirt. “Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“I need to touch you, Jake.” She pressed her lips to the base of his throat and spoke against his skin. “I want to feel your arms around me and taste your scent on my tongue because it makes me feel like home.” She nuzzled her nose beneath his chin. “And to be completely honest, it’s late, we’re tired and I think we’ve both said more than enough for tonight. I don’t really want to talk anymore, do you?”
His chest rose and fell with a shuddering breath, then he clamped one arm behind her waist to lift her feet from the floor, walked to the front of the couch and pulled her down to the cushions on top of him. Even though she could feel the weariness in his body, he proceeded to give her a kiss that scorched her clear down to the soles of her feet.
For what had to be the hundredth time, Becky tried to remind herself that her feelings for Jake could be a result of the situation. Her emotions were confused. These were exceptional circumstances.
But one of these days, she was going to run out of excuses and have to put a name to what she felt.
CHAPTER NINE
CYNTHIA WAITED until the servant had left the dining room before she set her teacup in its saucer and pressed the phone to her ear. That fool Bocci. She’d given him a simple job and he’d managed to foul it up. “Where are you now?”
“That’s not important.”
“The police are looking for you. They’ve been to the plant.”
There was a faint sucking noise as he drew on his cigarette. “I need money.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Maybe you should worry about that, Mrs. Brown. I might turn myself in and cut a deal.”
She rose from the table and walked to the French doors that overlooked the terrace. The grounds stretched to the fence in a pleasing progression of well-tended flower beds. Early morning dew sparkled from petals and leaves. It promised to be a lovely day. Everything seemed so ordinary. How could this be happening? “That would be unwise. You have nothing to bargain with, Mr. Bocci.”
“Wrong. I’ll bet the cops would be real interested to hear how you want to know about the Becky Peters case. To tell you the truth, I wondered about that myself. Is she Gina Grosso or not?”
Pain gripped Cynthia’s chest. She muffled the receiver against her shoulder as she hissed for air. When the ache had receded, she lifted her chin and spoke. “What an outrageous story. You’ve undoubtedly fabricated this as an attempt to coerce me into letting you keep your position with us.”
“What?”
“I suppose this is what we deserve for giving a criminal a second chance,” she said. She mentally reviewed the words she’d already spoken. What if Bocci was recording this? It was a possibility she should have considered earlier, although she doubted whether he had the brains to arrange it. “I should have had you fired the moment plant security caught you trying to leave the grounds with company property.”
He coughed. “We both know why you kept me around.”
“I’m afraid I have a soft heart when it comes to my employees, just like my father. I donate to numerous charities. My reputation in the community is beyond reproach. No one could possibly believe I would have any reason—”
“Cut the crap, lady. You might think I’m stupid but I remember what I read in that detective’s files. Becky Peters’s father used to work for Gerald. There’s gotta be a connection.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I’ve never heard of these Peters people.”
“It’s kinda late to play dumb. You’re in this as deep as I am.”
“Mr. Bocci—”
“Why’d you foist the kid on Peters? Did you figure he’d take the fall if anyone found out?”
Her legs started to tremble. She clutched the curtains beside the doors.
“But if you didn’t want it, why did you snatch the kid in the first place, huh?” Bocci continued. “That’s what I can’t figure out.”
She swallowed hard. “You are obviously delusional. I’m not going to listen to this any further.”
“Then I’ll make it short. I want fifty grand, cash, or I go to the cops. I’ll call tomorrow and tell you where to bring it.”
The connection was severed. Cynthia waited until her hands stopped shaking, then closed the phone and slipped it into the pocket of her suit. She continued to focus on the gardens. They were peaceful and orderly, just how she liked things. She needed to suppress her panic and put her thoughts in order, too.
Would Bocci make good on his threat? Fifty thousand dollars might make him disappear, but it wouldn’t solve her problem. What would Bocci be willing to do for five times that amount? That was an avenue worth pursuing. Men like him had no scruples. Enough money could very well bury the secret for good. It’s what her father should have done in the first place. She could afford it. To keep the life she had, no price would be too high.
“Hello, Cynthia.”
Hank’s voice broke into her thoughts. She took a moment to compose herself, then turned to watch her husband move into the room.
He was wearing the black shorts and frayed white T-shirt he insisted on using as his exercise clothes. Instead of coming to greet her properly, he crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of o
range juice.
“Good morning, darling,” she said, moving toward the table. She decided he probably hadn’t wanted to kiss her because he hadn’t yet showered. “I missed you at breakfast.”
“I was in the gym.” Hank tipped back his head to empty the glass of juice, then set it down on the silver tray with a click. “I needed a workout. It helps me think.”
She let her gaze roam over him greedily. “I don’t know why you drive yourself so hard. You’re in wonderful shape.”
He fisted his hands on the ends of the towel that hung around his neck. “You know I don’t care how I look.”
She pressed her lips together. Oh, yes, she knew. Hank didn’t appreciate how gifted he’d been with respect to his appearance. If not for her guidance, he would likely let himself get slovenly. She smoothed her hands over her skirt. “I’m glad you found me before I left for the office.”
“Your maid told me you were in here. We need to talk.”
Your maid. Even after almost thirty-one years, Hank still hadn’t become comfortable with the concept that the household staff were here to wait on him. “Of course, darling,” she said. “What’s on your mind?”
“I keep waiting for the right time, hoping things will change, but they don’t. I can’t put it off any longer.” He turned to face her squarely. “This isn’t working, Cynthia.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Us. We can’t go on this way. I want a divorce.”
She pressed the heel of her hand to her chest. The pain was worse than what she’d felt when she’d spoken with Bocci, even though the source wasn’t physical this time. Why now? Why today? Hadn’t she been given enough to deal with? “Hank, darling…”
“You must have realized this was coming, Cynthia.”
“I have noticed you’ve been showing some tension lately. You’re just overworked. Isn’t the assistant I hired for you easing your load? I’ll fire him and get another.”
“You know it isn’t about the company, it’s about our marriage. You must feel the same way, since you stopped going to counseling.”
The panic she’d managed to suppress only minutes ago was pushing its way back to the surface. This wasn’t fair. How could he bring this up now? “Counseling wasn’t necessary. We’re simply having a rough patch. I realize I’ve been under some strain lately, and I apologize for that.”
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