by Dale Mayer
“The whole thing was a real shit move on his part,” he said. “It sounds like he was only about Charlie at the end, not about you and Sari at all.”
“No, that’s exactly what it was,” she said. “It was pretty distressing to see how little he cared about us.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s not an easy thing to deal with.”
“No, it isn’t. But I’m quite prepared to find a way to get past it all,” she said. “It’s just not that easy.”
“No, none of this is easy,” he said. “But you are a braver person than I am.”
She laughed at that. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I do,” he said. “Through all this you’ve maintained your same ethical and moral standards, and you’ve held your head high. You’ve done what’s right, and you’ve looked after Sari at the same time. There isn’t a whole lot more that can be asked of you.”
Weston thought about her words and the situation she’d gone through for the rest of the morning. It kept popping back up as he did research on the lawyer, on Angel, and on Ginger and Grant. Weston was no closer to finding any answers, and it was starting to irritate him. He stared out the window, wondering if he should just get out and take another look around Ginger’s place. Not that it was likely to show him anything, particularly if Grant was there, but he wouldn’t mind taking a better look at the crash site.
He doubted if the police had done much. A vehicle that’s off the road can look like murder or an accident.
He sent the detective a text, asking for any updates, and got a fairly quick answer back, saying there was nothing. That just pissed off Weston more. He picked up the phone and called Badger. “Hey, any updates?”
“Yes,” Badger said, his voice light. “I was just going to call you.”
“Oh, what’s up?”
“We paid for a rush on the DNA,” he said. “Sari is definitely yours.”
He sank back. He hadn’t really wanted to consider it until he knew for sure; yet, at the same time, it was a huge relief. “Well, that’s good to know,” he said warmly, twisting to look down at the little girl. To think, she was actually his flesh and blood. And though he’d known it before, he hadn’t really known it. Not like this.
“Does it change anything for you?”
“It just confirms what we had already hoped,” he said. Sari was lying on her back playing with her toes, Shambhala right beside her. “Shambhala has definitely taken to her as well.”
“That is a really good thing potentially,” Badger said.
“Potentially,” he said. “I’m just not so sure about the future.”
“The future doesn’t have to be secure right now either,” Badger said. “Remember that. One day at a time.”
“Did you have any luck tracking down Angel’s whereabouts for the last eighteen months?”
“She worked in Vegas at one of the casinos for about six months. She lost her job and was at a different casino for another few months after that. She seemed to have a pattern of a job every couple months and then leaving.”
“Any reason for why she left the jobs?”
“She was fired from the first one for drug abuse,” he said, “and she’s got a history of gambling, drugs and even prostitution.”
Weston winced at that. “That sounds like a spiral that’s hard to get out of.”
“I would say so. Yes.”
“So I wonder what she’s doing back up here,” he asked.
“The only reason theoretically would be you and the baby,” Badger said.
“She didn’t know I was here, until I spoke to her on the phone recently, as she made one of her calls to Daniela,” he said, as his fingers drummed the top of the table. “But then there’s also the case of the murdered lawyer.”
“Right. We’re having trouble getting any cooperation from the police on that one.”
“I’m not surprised. I sure would like to get into that law office though.”
“We did access his computer files. Nothing suspicious is there, except for the fact there is no file on Sari.”
As soon as Weston heard that, his heart sank. “Seriously?”
“Yes. If there was one, it’s been deleted. Although I’m beginning to suspect there wasn’t one.”
“Like no digital copy but strictly a paper copy?”
“It’s quite possible somebody other than the murderer could have deleted any digital materials,” Badger said. “Somebody like Angel.”
“So there would be no record of the adoption.” Weston shook his head in disgust.
“It was registered in the US system though. According to the adoption registry, Sari officially belongs to Daniela.”
“If that’s the case, then she doesn’t have anything to worry about,” Weston said with a bright smile.
“Except for the fact that you’re Sari’s father, and you never signed away your rights. You could potentially have a claim on her.”
“That’s a different story,” he said, “but it means Angel can’t take her away, correct?”
“Unless she has a good sob story and can prove the baby’s better off with her.”
“That’s terrible,” he said. “Can’t adoptive parents ever have the peace of mind of knowing someone can’t come back on them?”
“It is definitely a confusing issue,” Badger said. “Nothing’s clear-cut these days. It’s supposed to be finished, legal, all over, done with, but it never really is.”
“You realize none of this makes any sense.”
“It’ll make sense,” Badger said quietly. “Unfortunately it never makes sense until more shit happens.” On that note he hung up.
Weston put down his cell phone and turned to look at his daughter.
“Who was that?” Daniela asked from the kitchen.
He looked up to see her leaning against the doorway, chewing on her bottom lip.
“The DNA came back,” he said with a smile. “Sari is mine.”
A look of happy surprise washed across her face. “That is excellent news,” she said.
Sari looked over at him and gave him a toothy grin, then rolled back over, pushing at Shambhala with her feet as she lay on the floor.
“It is good news,” he said quietly with a big smile on his face. “I hadn’t realized how much I wondered until we got a confirmation.”
“I’m sorry you had to wonder,” she said. “Once Angel said you were the father, it never crossed my mind to think she might have been lying. Although, in retrospect, that wasn’t very astute of me.”
“Well, the reality is, she might not have known for sure,” he said. He hopped to his feet and said, “I’ll go into town and talk to the cops. I want to see if I can find out where Angel is staying, if she’s even in town, and see if I can get any more information on her brother and all that.”
“Did your friend have much to add?”
“Not much. Apparently Angel got into a spot of trouble in Vegas and ended up in drugs and eventually even prostitution. She went through a lot of jobs working at casinos. One lasted six months, and others were shorter.”
“Ouch,” Daniela said. “That would make for a tough eighteen months.”
“Very,” he said. “The problem is, we don’t know what kind of a downward spiral she’s come here with, and the truth is, we don’t want her here at all.”
“That’s for sure.”
He smiled. “I’ll take Shambhala with me.”
She hesitated and looked at Sari. “Okay. I’m still not all that comfortable with her here without you. Though it seems foolish to be uncertain because look at the two of them.”
“I won’t be too long anyway. We’ll get out of your hair for a bit.” He stopped as he headed toward the front door. “Do you want me to pick up anything while I’m out?”
She shook her head. “We’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ve got some work to do on my online business, and then I may have a nap with Sari. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
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“If you think of anything,” he said, “you can text me.”
She nodded.
He called Shambhala, who hopped to her feet and came running. He laughed. “You’re just as happy to get out and do something as I am, aren’t you, girl?” He opened the front door and walked out to his rental truck.
He had a lot to think about, and not the least of which was what the hell he would do with his future. When he had been considering his future before, he had only himself in mind, not a family, but now he had a daughter. No way in hell he would let her out of his life on a permanent basis. The question really was, what did he want, and was it fair to even consider something other than 100 percent?
Weston loaded Shambhala into the vehicle and headed back into town, his mind full. Not getting answers wasn’t good, and getting out of the house was more a case of staying busy. While he looked into these legal things, hopefully he could free up his mind and let all the thoughts and information flow through him.
He stopped in at the police station first.
The detective was there and looked surprised. “I told you that I didn’t have any updates,” he said.
“That may be,” Weston said, “but I have news that Angel was into prostitution and drugs pretty heavily down in Vegas. I also know Daniela is really worried Angel will try to take custody back.”
“I didn’t think that was possible,” the detective said. “I did send the paperwork to the legal department, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“The adoption has been formally registered too,” Weston said. “I just wondered if there was any chance Angel could upset the applecart and get Sari back.”
“That I don’t know,” the detective said, then looked down at his files. “We haven’t found anything helpful so far.”
“So no forensic evidence?”
“Some, but that’s classified.”
Weston nodded. “Is the crime scene still locked up?”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to take a look at the attorney’s office,” he said boldly. “I’ve done a lot of this kind of work in the past.”
The detective studied him for a long moment, then making a sudden decision, he stood, grabbed his keys and said, “I’ll meet you there.”
“Good,” Weston said, then strode out to his truck. Shambhala lay in the front seat, waiting for him. She barked in delight when he arrived, her tail wagging like crazy. He hopped in and reached over to give her a scratching.
“Let’s go, girl, and see if we can get into trouble somewhere else.” Starting the truck, he headed down the few blocks to the lawyer’s office. He walked the block and took photos of the other offices in the same area. By the time he walked back, the detective frowned at him.
“What did that do for you?”
“It depends on if someone heard anything, saw anything,” he said.
At that, the detective frowned. “We have spoken to several of the people in these nearby businesses, and nobody heard anything.”
“Of course not. That’s the way of it, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes.”
Weston held his thoughts to himself, but he wondered if anybody had seen Angel. Was there any strife with the lawyer? What kind of a person was he? These were all things he would take the time to find out. The detective unlocked the door and motioned inside.
Weston stepped in and stopped. “Did you guys make this mess?”
The detective stepped in behind him and frowned even more. “We shouldn’t have,” he said. “This isn’t normal.”
“It wasn’t like this before,” Weston said, as he turned in a slow circle. “All the files have been dumped upside down. Even if the killer were looking for something, why would you dump it like that?”
“Frustration? Rage?” The detective frowned as he pulled out his phone and calling forensics to see when they had been here last.
“The crime scene tape was down, correct?”
“Yes, the scene had been cleared.”
“Do we know if this guy had any other relatives besides Angel?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I haven’t been working the case.”
At that news, Weston just lifted an eyebrow. “Are there that many detectives here?”
“Yes and no,” he said. “We’ve had two call in sick today.”
Weston took a quick look around, wondering just what this was. To him it looked like rage. Somebody expected to find something, and, when they didn’t, they decided to trash the place. Or they did find something, but it was something they didn’t want to see.
He wondered what the lawyer was like. Was there any chance he was supposed to draw up the agreement and make sure it was not quite legal? That would be shitty on Angel’s part.
But he didn’t know what kind of a person she was. Unfortunately she was a ship that passed him in the night. They rocked the boat for a few hours, and that was it. He couldn’t regret it now because Sari was the result, but it was certainly not something he even vaguely remembered. And that made him feel sad.
He squatted beside a stack of files on the ground. He didn’t recognize any of the names. He didn’t touch anything but continued to search through the material on the floor. Surely something was here. He found a pack of matches off to the side from a Vegas hotel. He studied it because it was of particular interest, since it was on top of the files. If it came from Angel, that meant she had been here, either before or after this destruction.
When the detective got off the phone, he had information. “The technicians were done yesterday. The crime scene tape was removed afterward, and the office was left locked.”
Weston nodded, then pointed at the matches. “Angel lived and worked in Las Vegas,” he said. “If those are from her, she’s been here since this was done or was here at the time.”
The cop squatted beside him and nodded. “What purpose would she have for searching through these records and leaving them in such a mess?”
Weston replied, “Either she was looking for something and couldn’t find it, or she found something and didn’t like it.”
“Right,” he said. “Well, I’ve got the team coming back, so make sure you don’t touch anything.”
“You know I won’t.” Weston walked through to the private office in the back, where he’d seen the body and saw bloodstains still on the carpet. He looked with a new insight because now all the information around this killing had changed.
“Do we know what the weapon was?” Weston asked.
“No, not for sure. A small handgun we assume. I’m still waiting for the autopsy to come back.”
“So a gun that could be purchased almost anywhere,” Weston said.
“There’s more. The lawyer had a license himself and kept a gun on the premises. It’s the same caliber he was killed with.”
“Has it been found?”
“No,” he said, “but it seems likely it may have been involved, one way or another.”
“So somebody comes in here with ill intent. The lawyer pulls the gun to protect himself. Then they end up killing him with it?”
“It could play that way,” the detective said. “Again, what’s the motive?”
“Somebody wanted help,” Weston said. “And either the lawyer didn’t like it or didn’t like the price.”
“That sounds familiar,” the detective said. “I was here for an hour after the body was removed, going through everything, but I didn’t find anything of interest.”
“So you didn’t expect this aftermath?”
“No.”
“Even now I don’t see much point. An awful lot of case files are here, but depending on what he specialized in—”
“Mostly estates,” the detective said. “We’ll have to go through this paperwork, make sure nothing’s missing. But we won’t know on a lot of this if parts of the files are missing.”
“So, like wills?” Weston said, turning to look at him.
The detective frowned and then n
odded. “That’s possible. He had a legal assistant, and we spoke with her yesterday. She wasn’t sure what she was even supposed to do at this point.”
“I’d like to talk to her.”
“And what would you ask her?”
“I’d ask about any estates in the process of closing, and any clients or others who were disgruntled over a will.”
“I did ask some of that but not all of it. Given this, I think more questioning needs to be done.” The detective brought out a notepad and wrote down notes as he walked around the office, but Weston didn’t bother too much about that.
“The next thing to question is, did this lawyer have anything to do with the wills for Grant and Ginger?”
The detective stopped, looked at him and said, “I have no idea.” He pulled up his phone and started talking, “I think it’s time I contacted that assistant again.”
When a woman answered on the other end, he identified himself and told her the office had now been broken into, and paperwork was strewn everywhere. He said he needed to meet with her to go over a few more questions, but he also wondered if she could answer one right away.
As Weston listened with half an ear, he heard her acknowledge they had, indeed, done wills for Grant and Ginger. He nodded and said, “I’ll come around this afternoon, and I’d like to show you some photos of the offices. I wonder if you’d feel up to helping us determine if anything is missing.”
At that, Weston turned and asked, “Can she just come down here?”
The detective frowned. “Actually, would you mind running down here and taking a look? There are files everywhere.” When he hung up the phone, he glared at Weston.
Weston held up his hands. “I know. I know. This is your case, not mine.”
“Exactly,” he said, “but it’s a good idea to have her come and take a look. She should at least be able to say which ones were their current cases.”
“And, if the office did handle Ginger and Grant’s estate, in theory, this is now a connection to that case as well.”
“He was a lawyer, and not too many were in this part of town,” the detective said. “There could be a lot of different reasons for that connection.”