by Meryl Sawyer
Hayley attempted a laugh, but it came out more like a derisive snort. “Ironic. I didn’t want the business. Trent lived for it.”
“Why wouldn’t they have left the business to Trent? He was already running it with your father, right?”
“True. I can’t imagine what changed Dad’s mind.”
“Their minds. Your mother would have had to agree.”
“Mom always backed up Dad on anything to do with the business.” Hayley considered the situation for a few seconds. “I can’t imagine what my father was thinking. He adored Trent. He won all sorts of skateboard tournaments when he was young, the way Dad once took prizes for his surfing. Trent was a budding Tony Hawk.”
“Hawk? The skateboard champ? Trent was that good?”
“Almost that good. He never made it to Hawk’s level. The guy’s still around, hyping video games and appearing on the circuit.”
“Trent worked at the shop and I helped Mom with designs. It just seemed understood that Trent would inherit the business.”
“You, too. I guess.”
Hayley shrugged. “Art was my first love. I guess I should have been more insistent that I wasn’t interested in a career as a designer. I just didn’t want to disappoint them until I could prove I had a future as an artist. Even after they died, I didn’t tell the family I wanted out of the business. If I had spoken up earlier, none of this would have happened.”
Ryan had his doubts about that. Greedy people weren’t so easily satisfied. “That doesn’t explain why your father left you the business.”
“I guess he must have been convinced Trent would change it from a custom shop to just another board store loaded with surfboards imported from Asia, which is exactly what has happened since my father’s death.”
Ryan stared up at the bird trilling from the coral tree in the corner of the courtyard. “You don’t seem too surprised by my discovery.”
Hayley gazed directly into his eyes. “I’m not. I was awake all last night. I kept thinking about the disappearance of my mother’s address book. No one could have gotten into the house except family. No one would profit from my death except Trent and Farah. I finally accepted the truth. What you discovered merely verifies it.”
“I guess we’d better notify the authorities.” He didn’t want to give her up. Honestly, he didn’t, despite the fact he’d been the one to end their kiss. He enjoyed being alone with Hayley and getting to know her. But he realized now was the time to reveal what they’d discovered.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RYAN AND HAYLEY had worked out their story. If he wanted to keep his job, they had to make certain no one found out he’d been hiding her. Hayley didn’t like to lie, wasn’t good at it, but she owed Ryan this—and more.
“The first thing I must do is see Aunt Meg,” Hayley told him. “She’s been upset long enough. Then I’ll call the police.”
“Remember, this won’t mean you’re safe. The police will need to do more investigating before they make an arrest. You’ll be in danger. Don’t tell anyone where you’ll be staying—not even your aunt.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
They’d agreed that Hayley would continue to live there secretly. It was a desperate move and he knew it, but this was the only way he could protect her until the crime was solved.
The cell phone in Ryan’s trouser pocket vibrated. He pulled it out and checked caller ID. Ed Phillips. “Hollister here.”
“Looks like the locals were right,” Phillips said immediately. “The ATF lab in Quantico IDed the bomb fragments. Hecho en Mexico. Made in Mexico, as they say.”
“Really?” Ryan said, stunned, then decided he shouldn’t be surprised. Southern California was close to the border.
“Get this. The ATF guys are really good. No wonder they’re now Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. This bomb was made by the Sinaloa cartel. They’re an established cartel that’s quite professional, considering smuggling drugs is their business. They don’t sell bombs or post how to make them on the Internet. ATF’s thinking Hayley or her family crossed them somehow.”
“How could they tell?” Ryan was amazed. He hadn’t had much training with explosives. That was assigned to a special team who only worked on that. But the bomb fragments he’d observed at the scene were tiny. He’d doubted they would be of any use.
“The ATF team used infrared spectography to analyze bomb fragments. A copper wire coated in blue plastic is a signature of the cartel. That’s how they traced it to the Sinaloa gang.”
“Tell me about them.” All Ryan really knew about the cartels was what he’d read in the newspaper or had seen on television. His work focused on white-collar crime that involved computers.
“The Mexican cartels go in for a lot of kidnapping, torture, brutal murder. Chopping off heads, dumping bodies in acid. They often don’t hit the target directly. They kidnap and kill a family member. Siblings, cousins, kids. It’s a warning.”
“Who do you think they were warning?” Ryan asked, although he had a good idea what Ed would say.
“Looks like they were putting Trent Fordham on notice.”
“I understood there was a drug connection with Asians that piggybacked their shipments in containers of surfboards.”
“That was the theory, but this puts everything in a new light.”
Something didn’t jive, Ryan decided, but he couldn’t pinpoint what was troubling him. “What happens now?”
“We squeeze Trent Fordham. See if he admits his involvement.”
“We?”
“The locals,” Phillips responded. “Apparently this is going to be their show. With Homeland Security and ATF involved plus the Bureau, it’s a real clusterfuck, but the local police are claiming jurisdiction.”
“I might be able to help. I found something on a disk I took from Hayley’s loft.”
“What?”
“I’m not quite sure yet,” Ryan hedged, aware of Hayley’s intent gaze on him. “I’ll know in a few hours.”
“Call me,” Phillips instructed, “before you alert the locals.”
Ryan closed his phone, still not knowing what to make of this development.
“Whatsamatta?” Hayley asked in a Sopranos imitation that was surprisingly good.
She was so damn cute that he couldn’t help smiling. He knew he shouldn’t reveal what Ed Phillips had told him, but he’d already jeopardized his career for Hayley. What could this hurt?
“The bomb has been IDed as a Mexican cartel’s. That’s who blew up your car and tried to kill you. The Sinaloa gang.”
She stared at him, her captivating eyes mystified. “Why?”
“By killing you, they were sending a warning to Trent.”
“Trent involved in drugs? No way. He hangs with a group that party a lot. Marijuana and cocaine,” Hayley countered in a harsh, raw voice. “That’s it. Party stuff.”
Ryan didn’t want to remind her that she hadn’t believed Trent would want to kill her, either. “I’m not suggesting he was using. I’m wondering if he saw an opportunity to make a lot of money. You weren’t at Surf’s Up on a daily basis, were you?”
“No,” she admitted. “I went in every other week or so to deliver my designs and to check the computer to see what was selling in my current collection. I worked out of my loft most of the time. That’s why I knew I could go off to Costa Rica without being missed.”
“So it’s possible Trent was doing something you didn’t know about.”
“It’s possible,” she conceded reluctantly. “Maybe Dad suspected and that’s why he left the business to me.”
“Could be. It wasn’t difficult to access your mother’s computer. Someone could have discovered the trust and decided to delete it. Do you know if Cynthia Fordham is familiar with computers?”
“Yes. My father’s ex works in a boutique that does inventory control, employee scheduling, and all that sort of thing on a computer. I know because Trent insisted Surf’s Up needed the latest version o
f that software.”
“Was Cynthia at your parents’ home after they were killed?”
Her expression was tight with strain. “Yes. A lot of people were coming and going. It was a madhouse. We were trying to plan the funeral, dealing with so much…”
“How it happened doesn’t really matter—”
“Why not? I’d like to know who wants me dead.”
Without thinking, he slipped his arm around her, saying, “I realize how upsetting this is. I assume the original plan didn’t include killing you. They just didn’t want you inheriting two-thirds of the estate.”
“What changed?” she asked, echoing his thoughts. “Months later they wanted me dead.”
“Good question,” he responded, dropping his arm. He really shouldn’t be touching her—no matter how much he longed to pull her into his arms. “One thing is certain. Chad Bennett had to be in on destroying the trust documents. He must know who is behind this.”
Hayley didn’t say a word but he detected the hurt clouding her eyes. He knew she had to be upset. Even though they’d broken up, they’d been engaged. She must have loved him—and still might for all he knew.
MEG STOOD on her balcony overlooking the craggy coastline and inhaled the tangy salt-air cocktail that usually cheered her. The early afternoon sunlight blazed down on the water. The sun-spangled sea washed against the pristine beach. This stretch of the coast had no public access from the high bluffs above it. This was nature as God had intended it to be, yet it seemed lonely and forlorn somehow. She squeezed her eyes shut to make the world go away.
She heard a soft knock on the door behind her. It had to be one of the staff, she decided. Conrad was with the physical therapist now.
“Come in,” she called over her shoulder. The front door was rarely locked.
A minute passed and Meg realized the staffer hadn’t spoken, which was unlike them. To hold down a job at Twelve Oaks, a staffer had to be sickeningly cheery at all times, opening with a comment on the weather like: “Hi there, how are we feeling? Beautiful day isn’t it?”
We? Who did they think they were kidding?
Meg slowly turned, trying to quell a vague sense of unease and squinted into the shadowy suite behind her. A huge, constricting knot of pain tightened her throat. These old eyes must be playing tricks, she thought. The silhouette near the sofa reminded Meg of Hayley. Meg realized her grief had metastasized into depression, sadness so black and so deep that words couldn’t express her feelings. She rarely came out of her room now—not even for Conrad.
“Who’s there?” she called.
“It’s me, Auntie.”
Auntie? What damn fool stunt was someone pulling? Only Hayley called her “Auntie” and had since she was a toddler. For a handful of aching heartbeats Meg stood there.
The form moved out of the shadows.
Hayley! Oh, my God! She’d lost her mind, Meg thought. Suddenly she was aware of shortness of breath and a heart thumping like a caged animal trying to escape her chest.
Meg pressed a hand between her breasts to slow down her heart. She swayed slightly as the woman rushed forward, arms outstretched. Hayley. It was Hayley. Meg decided she must be hallucinating. The finality of her niece’s death, of never being able to see Hayley again had triggered this illusion.
The woman threw her arms around Meg, saying, “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Auntie. I’m so sorry.”
Meg closed her eyes and let the woman guide her from the balcony into her suite. She even smells like my Hayley, Meg mused, unwilling to open her eyes and destroy the dream.
“I’m alive, Auntie. I didn’t die. I wasn’t in the car,” the woman said in a low voice as she lowered Meg to the sofa.
A tendril of hope unwound inside Meg’s heart. She cautiously opened her eyes. Could this be her beloved Hayley—the daughter who should have been hers, not Alison’s?
“It really is you.” She reached out and touched Hayley’s soft cheek.
“It’s me,” her niece assured Meg. Hayley sat close beside her. “I’m still alive.”
Meg gazed up at the ceiling, tears beading her eyelashes. “Thank you, God.”
“It’s quite a story,” Hayley told her and Meg listened as she explained about the trip to Costa Rica and the mural she’d painted. She’d returned home, not knowing everyone believed she was dead.
“You didn’t tell me about your trip because you thought I’d worry,” Meg said when her niece had finished. Hayley nodded and her expressive eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Meg admitted she’d brought this upon herself. She would have insisted Hayley not fly on a small plane—not even a state-of-the-art private jet.
“I’ve been back two days,” Hayley said.
Her words siphoned the air from Meg’s lungs for a second. “Why didn’t you call—”
“When I found out someone tried to kill me, I thought it best to hide out for a day or so. I was hoping the police would discover who wanted me dead.”
“Where were you?”
“You remember my neighbors, Max and Jim?” Something flickered in Hayley’s eyes. “I hid out at their place. They’re up at Bass Lake near Yosemite. They didn’t hear about the bombing, either. They were working on the cabin they’d bought. The cable isn’t installed yet.”
Meg hesitated for a second; Hayley had never been a good liar. She wasn’t positive the girl was lying now but she suspected she wasn’t telling the whole truth. Why? She decided not to challenge her. It was enough to have Hayley with her again.
“Did the police find out anything?” Meg asked. Detective Wells should have called her if they had.
“I don’t know. I haven’t contacted the authorities yet. I wanted to see you first to let you know I’m okay.”
Meg’s mind processed the facts just as quickly as she had when she was young. Conrad’s son would have called them if the case had been solved. Hayley was still in danger. “Why don’t you hide out for a while longer? Give them time to solve the case.”
“The boys are coming back tonight. They kept Andy for me. I can’t stay with them, but I am going to keep my whereabouts a secret until this is sorted out.”
“What about money?” Meg asked. “You can’t use credit cards. Those are too easy to trace. I can get you whatever you want.”
“Thanks. I may need to take you up on it.” Hayley paused. “Auntie, when you heard I’d died, who did you think had done it?”
“One of the Fordhams,” she responded without hesitating. “Who else would gain from your death?”
“That’s what I thought, too. All of them or just one of them?”
Meg shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve gone over it a million times in my head and still can’t decide. I even hired Conrad’s son, Ryan Hollister, to help, but he hasn’t come up with much, either.”
“Really?” Hayley’s eyes shifted to the floor, then back to Meg’s. “How could he help?”
Meg explained about Ryan Hollister’s position with the FBI and the wild-goose chase the police were on, believing there was a drug connection with the car bombing. Hayley nodded as Meg spoke, but she didn’t get the impression that her niece was really listening.
As she had all her life, Meg forged ahead with sheer determination. Hayley didn’t seem to grasp the extreme danger of her situation. Meg had to take over. “I’m calling my lawyer. He’ll recommend a criminal attorney. I think you’re going to need one.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
GARVER BROWNE led Hayley out the back entrance of the Newport Beach Police Station to avoid the media swarming around the front. Her aunt, Conrad and Ryan were waiting in a Twelve Oaks limo. It was nearly midnight but the area behind the station was brightly lit by security lights. The chauffeur opened the Mercedes’ door. Hayley and the criminal attorney climbed into the air-conditioned limousine.
“What happened?” asked Aunt Meg with a welcoming smile.
“Those jerks aren’t interested in Lindsey.” Hayley knew she sounded shrill but
couldn’t help herself. The last several hours had been grueling, beyond anything she’d imagined. Anger combined with devastation over Lindsey’s death left her frustrated. The police didn’t care an innocent woman had died. “They’re positive this is drug-related.”
Aunt Meg’s smile dissolved. “That’s ridiculous! You never—”
“They’re suspicious of me. They wanted me to take a lie detector test.”
“Of course you agreed.” Conrad Hollister was seated near the rear door in his wheelchair in the specially modified limousine.
“No,” Garver Browne answered for Hayley. “They have no right to ask.”
Silence roared through the limousine. Hayley ventured a quick look at Ryan. He would understand why she refused to take the test. She’d explained everything except where she’d been since returning from Costa Rica. “With a friend” was all she would say. How could a little white lie hurt her when she’d told the unvarnished truth about everything else?
Not everything, she silently amended. She hadn’t mentioned the trust data on the disk someone had discarded in her mother’s computer trash bin, because it could cost Ryan his job. He was going to funnel the information to the authorities through his friend Ed.
She felt guilty about not telling her aunt, either. If it hadn’t been clear to Hayley before, Aunt Meg’s reaction to her “back from the dead” appearance assured Hayley that her aunt was the only person on earth who truly loved her. But Ryan had convinced Hayley that telling could jeopardize his career, her life.
“Listen, everyone,” Garver said. “Hayley is not going to discuss this until the police have completed their investigation.” He turned his head slowly and looked at each of them before saying, “No one talks to the press. No one. If the police want to interview you, insist that I be there before you say one word.”
Garver Browne was a criminal attorney who’d taken his private helicopter from L.A. to Orange County so he could accompany Hayley to the police station. She’d begged her aunt not to spend the money, but after the rigorous interrogation, Hayley was thankful she’d had the lawyer with her. The police had grilled her as if she’d been the one to plant the bomb.