thoughts about a case coming to trial, he was here on a far more personal matter. A matter that had involved Spence and three of his closest friends, all because they’d had the unfortunate luck of being on the ninth tee of the Lone Star Country Club golf course the Sunday that the baby had been discovered.
Spence and his friends found the baby, crying and wet from a recent christening by the course’s sprinkling system. The chance watering had inadvertently all but obliterated the note that had been pinned to the baby’s blanket, a note that had, from all appearances, been addressed to the baby’s father.
Because it was known that they frequently played at this time, they’d each been held suspect as the baby’s father. The best way he knew of to eliminate suspicion, though, was voluntary DNA testing. Flynt Carson had decided that he needed to be the one to care for the baby. Child Protective Services had taken his DNA first and run it by a lab. Flynt wasn’t the father.
Unwilling to have even a hint of scandal hovering over him, especially in view of his future aspirations, Spence had volunteered to be tested next.
Obviously, Ashton had the results in his possession now. He tried to read the private investigator’s face, attempting to decide whether the smile there meant that the search had come to an end by some other means, or simply that his DNA test had been negative. He knew that there was no way on earth there was even a close match. This was not his baby.
Spence suppressed a sigh. He was due for some good news. He gestured to the chair in front of his mahogany desk.
Ashton shook his head. “Can’t stay, Harrison. Just came by to tell you that you’re not the baby’s father.”
Spence fixed the other man with a look. “I could have told you that.”
“You did.” The detective’s reminder was droll. “But the police department likes to see proof and verify things for themselves.”
Spence supposed that was what he and the others were paying this man for. To play the devil’s advocate on their behalf as well as to find the identity of the baby’s parents. He leaned back in his chair. “So who are you going to verify next?”
They both knew the answer to that. “With you and Carson in the clear, that leaves Tyler Murdoch and Michael O’Day.”
Poor Michael, Spence thought. When they’d tapped him to fill Luke Callaghan’s place to round out the foursome, the man had undoubtedly thought he was in for a morning of relaxation. With Luke away, gallivanting to places only the incredibly rich had the privilege to go to at a moment’s notice, it seemed like an innocent enough thing to do. Michael hadn’t known what he was in for. It could be that Michael O’Day just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or not. Either way, things had to be done by the book. That meant checking out a man whose history with the group did not go back nearly as far as the rest of them.
When Ashton began to leave, Spence asked, “Want my prediction?”
The P.I. paused in the doorway, politely waiting.
“You’re not going to find a match. You’re wasting your time.”
“But I’m not,” Ashton pointed out. “We need to prove that none of you is the baby’s father, that it was sheer coincidence that you found her when and where you did, at a time and place the four of you are known to be every Sunday.” The detective smiled. “Besides, it’s what you’re paying me for.”
Spence nodded. “Yes, I guess we are. Sorry if I sounded testy just then. This whole thing…” He waved his hand, letting the sentence just fade away. He couldn’t put his restlessness into words. Spence looked back down at the brief he’d been reading when the private investigator had walked in. The meeting was over. “Keep me posted, Ben.”
“Count on it.”
The door closed firmly in his wake.
Spence reached for the phone to tell Tyler to expect Ashton soon. Instinct told him Tyler would be next on the investigator’s list rather than Michael. It stood to reason. The man was trying to beat the police department to the punch and clear Tyler before any gossip via the news media took hold. Nothing the news media liked better than to find dirt sticking to a group of ex-combat heroes who’d managed to return from the Gulf War and work their way back into the civilian world, garnering money and prestige along the way.
Everyone loved a hero. And for some unknown reason, everyone loved finding tarnish on that same hero, Spence mused.
With a sigh, he began hitting the familiar keys on the keypad.
“So you’ve got everything you’ll need?”
Rose stopped folding a blouse she knew she couldn’t wear much longer and turned around. Her father was standing in the doorway of her bedroom.
A tall, still athletically built man, Archy Wainwright looked a little lost for a moment, despite his stately stature. For a second she entertained a flash-back. When she was a little girl she’d always thought of her father as being a giant of a man.
Too bad childhood didn’t last longer, she thought sadly.
He’d shrunk a little in her eyes these past few months. Not because of any affliction of age, but because she knew how adamant her father was about the feud, a feud that had begun years before he was born and pitted their family against the Carsons on things that were only hearsay. The feud that was responsible for separating her from the man she loved.
If things had been different…
But they weren’t, she told herself sternly, and she was strong enough to deal with that.
She hoped.
Rose dropped the blouse into the open suitcase. It was one of three spread out on top of her queen-size bed in various stages of being packed.
“Yes, I have everything.”
Her voice was cold, Archy thought. He wasn’t used to that. Not from Rose. He cleared his throat. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow,” she said crisply, as if they weren’t discussing her exile but some short vacation from which she’d be back before her bed was cold. She paused, then added more softly, “I thought I’d go into Mission Creek and have a last look around when I’m finished.”
Archy nodded. He wasn’t a sentimental man, but he understood the need for it. “Need me to drive you?”
She didn’t think that being with her father in close quarters for any length of time was wise right now. Besides, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Thoughts that involved Matt and the places they’d secretly met over the past few months. Months she intended to cherish despite the outcome of their affair.
“No. I can still drive.”
Archy began to retreat, common sense telling him that it was best not to say anything else. But common sense gave way to filial passion. He wanted to make sense out of all this, and he couldn’t.
“What were you thinking, girl? Didn’t we enter into this at all for you?”
She straightened her shoulders, feeling under attack. “No,” she replied simply. “You didn’t. You don’t govern my
