Chapter 12
Kay’s concern shone through her indistinct hazel eyes like beacons. She and Oliver shared a glance all but dripping in some unspoken communication, before Kay turned back to Seraphina. “You’ve got to be careful. If he suspects you’re actively investigating him, Brendan won’t hesitate to conclude you’re doing favors for Oliver. Maybe pretend to give the guy a break or something?”
Seraphina couldn’t control her expression. Her lip curled in distaste, and her eyebrows rose. “Really? You want me to pretend to his face he’s not the most dishonest, crooked loser I’ve ever met?”
“The reality is we never proved a thing against him,” Kay pointed out hesitantly.
“The court might require proof. I don’t,” Seraphina averred. “It’s all too weird, and you won’t convince me otherwise. The break-in, the drugs, Brendan’s sudden involvement. Hell, even the way the city council switched properties. That’s unheard of. It can take months to wade through all the bullshit and red tape to be able to renovate a historic property. And Grant, well, he’s successful because he’s intelligent, one would suppose. But where is the sense in taking a chance on someone like Brendan Berkley?”
Oliver grimaced, ran a hand through light brown hair about due for a trim, and swung his doubtful gaze between Seraphina and Kay. “There is such thing as coincidence, and it has screwed over guys in my position over and over again, all throughout history.”
Kay cocked her head. Seraphina opened her mouth to speak.
Oliver held up a hand to ward off their impending protests, which had to be written all over their faces. He had a natural ability to assume control that way, through simple gestures and an overall kindly attitude. He gave direction like merely a wise suggestion. Plus, he was utterly adorable. Not Seraphina’s type—she liked a sharp, honed edge and a hint of darkness that Oliver lacked. He and Kay made a singularly perfect couple.
“I don’t believe that, either,” Oliver offered. “Brendan’s connection stinks. But unless we—no, strike that—unless you, Seraphina, can directly tie him to the drugs hidden inside Tanbee House, we have nothing. I’m blind. I can’t set up a sting. If he were to get wind of me investigating his workplace, he wouldn’t hesitate to lodge a complaint that could cripple the entire investigation. Those involved at Free Leaf Concepts haven’t even gone to trial yet, and I could botch the proceedings for the DA before they ever set foot in front of a jury.”
Seraphina drooped within herself, but outwardly kept her shoulders squared. She didn’t believe for a second she could do this on her own. But she also couldn’t bring herself to tell Oliver and Kay it was useless to hang their hopes on her. She hoped the helplessness she felt didn’t come through in her voice. “I’m not a private investigator. I’m a designer. What can I do?”
Oliver grinned as he held up the plastic sandwich bag. It held the small balloon of white stuff she’d brought him. “Already, you’ve done a lot. We’ll have this tested as soon as possible. And before you go, remind me to get a quick sample of your prints. Pretty sure I’ve got the stuff around here somewhere.” He glanced around, as if the kit would spring up nearby.
Kay rolled her eyes, smiled, and patted his knee. “I know where it is. Scatterbrain.”
“Busy brain.” He tapped his temple and gave her a wide-eyed stare of admonishment.
Kay shrugged and glanced at Seraphina. “He does work some crazy hours. There’s more than one angle to the investigation. He thinks Brendan Berkley is the lynchpin, but there are still plenty of other avenues to explore.”
Oliver turned to Seraphina again. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Just make sure you keep your head down. If Brendan has his hands in this, we want to catch him moving the product, which he’ll have to do before Curry brings down that wall, right? Keep Kay in the loop on your timeline, casually. But should Brendan get wind you’re watching him, he might abandon the drugs. And even with them in possession, it’ll only add up to more circumstantial evidence against Brendan. If there’s anything I’m sick of, it’s evidence that can’t tie this guy down.”
Seraphina pressed her lips together and tried to stop caring for five minutes. Just a small reprieve. She’d been more than happy to accept Kay’s dinner invitation in exchange for the evidence she collected. She had a queasy feeling, hauling around a bag of white powder in her purse, and was more than relieved to hand it over. “Are your people still having trouble recreating the super shrooms?”
Kay rolled her eyes. “And have they come up with a worse nickname yet? Call them mad caps. Or death fungus. Anything but super shrooms.” She hooked a thumb at Oliver and gave Seraphina a wry stare. “These guys got no imagination.”
Oliver rolled his eyes right back, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, because giving stuff catchy names makes it easier to hunt down. To answer your question, Sera, yes. Still struggling. They’ve created the mushrooms as we assumed they were made, using the African dream plant, but an element is missing. Apparently, the batch we took in the bust was unfinished product, and what we collected from the salad Kay was dosed with is also different.”
Unease rippled through Seraphina, and she noted the shiver that shook Kay’s shoulders. Her face mirrored her thoughts. Someone had slipped the shrooms into a salad, which Kay had eaten. Luckily, she didn’t finish it, or she might’ve died. Even the small dose she’d taken had brought on intense hallucinations and put Kay on bed rest for days.
“We have no idea how they complete the process, but now we know for certain there’s another step to creating their specific drug.” Oliver shrugged, and the weariness of searching for answers that fought to elude him was clear in his bearing. “Could be another plant they spliced. Another street drug incorporated into the process. Could be what they had growing at Free Leaf’s greenhouse compound was a trial run for a different formula. We’ll figure it out. But in the meantime, that stuff is still out there. Not spreading as rapidly, but we get local reports every couple of weeks, so they’re still producing.”
After that, the three of them fell into a congenial silence, each focused on their inner thoughts. The day had been a trial, and Seraphina didn’t appear to be the only one going through a rough stretch. If she’d had doubts about helping Oliver, he’d effectively squelched them.
At least relaxing in Kay’s harmoniously gorgeous kitchen took some of the sting from her day, much like a hot soak after a tough workout. Probably a designer thing. Seraphina was uniquely in tune with the quality of the elements, the labor, and the vision it had taken for Kay to have pulled together the remarkable room. It was a flattering display of stainless steel, soft whites, and the whole spectrum of blue hues and tints, evident in everything from a display of glazed dishes to the mosaic backsplash that glinted in the light of the pale blue pendants that dropped down from the high ceiling. The food was takeout, but that was almost the second reason they gathered here. They’d really come for the atmosphere. It was a happy place.
“How’s the rest of the reno coming along?”
Kay brightened immediately, as she always did when someone brought up her pet project. “Amazingly fast, with my extra set of hands.” She grinned and winked playfully at Oliver. “The foyer, as you saw, is complete. We found paneling that matches the original hardwood floors near exact, and wallpaper stunningly close to the original. We started in the library last week, but we’re having some disagreement over the hideous fireplace.”
“It’s marble.” Oliver’s tone suggested that was his argument in whole.
Kay shook her head. “See? He thinks the material is worth salvaging, but it’s wrecked and can’t be repaired.”
“I think the dents and dings are part of the charm.”
Seraphina surprised herself with a snort of soft laughter. “I’m not even sure I could argue with that logic.”
A short while later, she said good-bye to her friends and
took a city bus to a pharmacy near midtown. She picked out two disposable cameras and decided she’d go shopping for something with more consequence later on. Something with bells and whistles to make the best of every photo op. But for now, for tonight, the cardboard wrapped cameras would suffice. Definitely no altering the evidence that came out of these things.
Tanbee House was deserted with the crew long gone. Seraphina’s nerves jangled as she spotted an unmarked patrol car drawing close, coming to a halt between her and the fence surrounding the site. The door opened and the officer stepped out. He smiled in that way they had. Something they must teach at the academy. It was meant to put her at ease, but only succeeded in making her feel like he knew more about her plans than she did. She swallowed and introduced herself.
Still with that smile, he greeted her in return. “You have identification on you, ma’am?”
“Yes, of course.” She dug her license out of her bag and handed it over. He didn’t seem particularly concerned or watchful. But he also didn’t seem inclined to let her anywhere near Tanbee House. “I’m Seraphina Fawkes. I’m in charge of the renovations here.”
He nodded, eyeballed her driver’s license. “Hm. Well, we’ve got Marc Curry listed as the guy in charge. And without him here, or his consent expressed to us in person, we’re to keep the property secure.” An apologetic smile. “Sorry, ma’am.”
She cleared her throat. She was disappointed, but there was time. As long as she got photographic evidence before Marc’s team stumbled onto the drugs—which she believed Brendan would prevent at all costs—then she had some time. She promised the officer she’d get her name on that list and headed back the way she came. At least if she couldn’t get through, then neither could Brendan.
* * * *
The tap at Seraphina’s office door startled her. She snapped her head up from the blueprints spread out around her, and she stared open-mouthed at the man in the doorway. “Dad?”
Daniel Fawkes’s deep green eyes were the color of pine needles. He had an absence about him; a kind of distraction that made her feel like half his mind was elsewhere. He wore the suit of a restless, underappreciated, temperamental artist. He was effortlessly fashionable; his hair carelessly mussed, but attractively so. Just like he’d always taught her—hide the effort, make it look easy, and never let them see you sweat.
“May I?” He indicated a chair with a distinct note of impatience, as if he expected her to command a sovereign’s respect here in her inner sanctum.
She smiled in an effort to ease away some of the tension he carried into the room, which proved difficult as always. Her dad didn’t call often, at least not for idle chat, and she could remember only a handful of times in a span of years he’d stopped by her workplace to see her. Never had his visits preceded good news or happy times. A few times to borrow money, and then swear to never borrow money again, because she was so judgmental about the loan. Not once had she ever said a wayward thing, but that was Daniel.
“Don’t be silly. Come on in. I’m just eyeballing a few things. I’m kind of in research mode while I wait for the contractor to get me good bones to work with.” His gaze had gone vacant, so she stopped talking about herself and carefully set aside her work. “It’s good to see you.”
He looked well. Healthy. His olive skin was dark, so he’d been getting sun lately. “Yeah, well, that’s just it, I’m hitting the road. I was going to call, but that seemed cheap. And I knew I couldn’t count on you stopping by anytime soon.” He took the proffered chair, dropping into it languidly.
“Wow. You’re really leaving town.” She didn’t frame her surprise as a question he might take some offense to. Like she doubted him, or his determination, or his ability. “That’s… I’m happy for you.”
Doubt clouded his expression. “That right? Well, good. I thought you might have some objection.”
“No, no. Of course not. Why would I?”
Her dad glanced aside. His Greek bones were more evident than ever in his profile; the long, patrician nose and the high, cutting cheekbones. He took a moment to adjust the old duster jacket he wore. It was strictly a style choice, because the weather certainly didn’t call for one. But he made it look good. Beneath he wore a thin white cotton T-shirt with a V-neck. Eventually, he sighed and the look he gave her was heavy with sympathy. “Because this is it. I can’t imagine why I’d come back. I’ve been roofing, you know.” He paused a moment to let her absorb that. No wonder his skin had grown so dark, if he’d spent the summer laying shingles.
“Dad, you could’ve told me. I know a hundred general contractors who—”
“Told you what, sweet pea?” Despite the endearment, there was a hard edge. “That I haven’t done any real work in the last half decade? That I was a stay-at-home stepdad for a couple years, for some kid who never liked me all that much, anyway? No more than my own ever did. Look, I didn’t need your pity, Sera, and I didn’t need your help. I still don’t. I find myself suddenly free and single, and I’ve got an audition lined up at the biggest theater in Phoenix, so don’t you worry about me, dear. I’m here because I’m worried about you.”
Seraphina knew her mouth was hanging open and worked to close it. Her dad had spent the last few years being a stepdad, and had never said a word about this other family, this other life? “Why… Why wouldn’t you tell me something like this?”
“So I wouldn’t have to listen to this. Right here. If I needed a job so bad I couldn’t get one on my own, maybe I would’ve come to you, maybe—”
“Dad, no.” There was a bubble of silence as they both took in her interruption. Suddenly, she didn’t care if he was disappointed, or if every single one of the words that came of her mouth next were the wrong ones. “You had a family, all these years? Another child?”
“Not blood,” he explained, exasperated. “Ron’s boy. A thirteen-year-old smart-mouthed kid.”
“Do you think that could possibly matter to me? I thought—God, I’m so stupid sometimes. I thought we were both alone. Both abandoned. That one thing was the connection I’ve always clung to between us, despite however else you and I may differ. At least I wasn’t left completely alone. At least I wasn’t the only one who understood the hurt in being tossed aside for being defective. I have led a lonely life. All this time, I could’ve had a family to spend holidays with? I could’ve had a stepbrother or stepsister? For years, you tell me? Why on earth would you keep something like that from me? And why would you keep me from it?” As quickly as her anger and resentment had billowed up like black storm clouds, they dissipated and scattered. Daniel looked defeated. Beaten and depressed. She corralled herself, breathed calmly. “Please. Help me understand.”
“Because of this right here.” There was no apology in his steady gaze. He was stone. “Because it didn’t last. We both know it never does. And instead of both of us having broken hearts, this time it’s just the one. Just mine.”
A tear hovered on her bottom lashes. Emotions were roiling up from the depths to strangle her. It was almost like she’d been abandoned again, tossed aside while her father enjoyed a family life without her. At the same time, she saw the pain in his gaze. “But you wouldn’t be alone. We’d still have each other.”
“Only that would make this next part harder, wouldn’t it? Sera, I’m telling you now, I ain’t coming back. That relationship was the only thing holding me back. It’s over, and I’m out of time to keep waiting around for things to get better and stay that way.” He waved his hands around the room, his gaze bouncing around her meager personal belongings. It landed on the photograph of him perched next to her printer, earning her a small, wry grin. “You got all this. You have not ever needed me. I daresay you never wanted me that bad.”
“I did,” she shot back. “I did. It’s just that nothing I’ve ever been or done is good enough for you. I’m not Rebecca. But she’s who you see when you look at me.”
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br /> Daniel shrugged. He shook his head sadly. “Seraphina, I love you the best way I know how. Sometimes, I don’t think your mom needed a reason to take off. Maybe I was pushing her toward it long before she found me out. And yeah, you look just like her. More than that, you talk like her, you move like her, and speak the way she did. Maybe it’s not fair that we never got any closer. But I needed the distance.”
“Just like you need it now.” Seraphina swallowed, her throat thick. So strange, so unthinkable. Her father had been in one relationship all this time, years, and never once offered to introduce his boyfriend to his daughter. Swiftly and ruthlessly, the facts and their inherent truth clicked into place.
She peered at him, for the first time taking some satisfaction in knowing her appearance and bearing made him uncomfortable; made him remember a pain he’d turned around and inflicted on his own daughter. “Just like you’ve needed it my whole life. You’ve always been so quick to accuse me of being ashamed of you. But did Ron even know about me? Did your stepson?” Daniel’s silence answered her. “You never told them I existed. Because the truth, Dad, is that you’re ashamed of me. I’m not even a real person to you. I’m just this big, fat, walking, talking reminder of your own bad luck. Every time I succeeded at something, you saw Mom succeeding without you. Every time I did well for myself, you saw something good come from her and couldn’t stand it. God forbid Rebecca Fawkes come back and see her daughter was more her blood than yours.” She smiled without any trace of humor. “That’s right. I’m Rebecca’s daughter. More than I was ever yours, and now I’m finally up to speed. You could’ve let me in on the secret years ago and saved us both so much heartache. I’ve wasted a lot of time trying to be enough for you.”
He wasn’t sorry. Just tired, evidenced by the thin line of his mouth and the circles beneath his eyes. Tired and anxious to leave, his toe tapping and his fingers drumming. But not sorry. Daniel glanced up at her, his thoughts unspoken but clear as crystal. Are you done yet?
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