Incriminating Evidence. Amanda Stevens

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СКАЧАТЬ compared the photo to the clipping. “There’s a definite likeness, I’ll give you that. But I’m still not willing to draw any conclusions.”

      “I’m not asking you to. All I need from you is a thorough investigation. Do you want the job or don’t you?”

      He waited a beat before he answered. “Why me? Why this agency?” He wondered if she would remind him that she had once consulted on one of his cases, but instead she withdrew a creased business card from the shoebox and handed it to him.

      “Do you recognize this?” she asked.

      He gazed down at the familiar logo. “It’s one of our old business cards. The design was changed years ago.”

      “I found that card in the same box with the clippings. There’s a number scribbled on the back.”

      Nick flipped the card and a shock wave went through him. This time he was unable to hide his astonishment.

      “I take it from your expression that you recognize the number,” she said.

      “It’s my father’s home number,” he conceded reluctantly. “It’s been unlisted for years.”

      “Which means he must have spoken with my mother at some point. I think she came to him hoping that he could help her find out the truth about my biological parents. She must have had suspicions for a long time. Why else would she have saved those clippings? Why else would she have kept them from me? Ask your father if he remembers her. Or, better yet, check to see if there’s a case file.” Her gaze intensified. “It could be that the work has already been done for us.”

      Nick picked up the card and flicked it idly between his fingers. “I can tell this means a lot to you.”

      “Of course, it means a lot to me. Put yourself in my place.”

      “I’ve been sitting here trying to do just that and here’s my conclusion... What if you are Orson Lee Finch’s biological daughter? It won’t change who you are. It won’t diminish your accomplishments.”

      She sighed. “Nurture over nature. I get it. I may even believe it. Laura March was a wonderful person. Everything I am, I owe to her. I couldn’t have asked for a more loving parent. But she kept things from me and I need to know why.” Catherine’s voice quivered and for the first time, she looked vulnerable. Lost. “A person needs to know where she comes from, Nick. A person needs to know the truth about her past.”

      He couldn’t argue with that. “Okay,” he said. “I’d like you to leave the clippings with me for now. The photograph, too, if you don’t mind.”

      “Does that mean you’ll take my case?”

      “I’ll look into it. If Orson Lee Finch will agree to see me, I’ll press for a DNA test. That is what you want, isn’t it?”

      “Yes. That’s what I want,” she insisted, even as she looked anything but certain.

      “If Finch cooperates—which I doubt he will—you’ll have your answer in a matter of days. If not, we’ll figure out where to go from there.”

      “You have no idea what this means to me.” She stood. “I realize how deluded I must sound. Thank you for hearing me out. You could have just sent me away.”

      “Don’t thank me yet. Depending on the outcome, you may not want to thank me at all.” He rose and walked her to the door. Their shoulders brushed as he reached for the knob. She moved away quickly and muttered an apology. But in that fleeting moment of contact, awareness sizzled. Nick found himself breathing in her scent. She smelled of raindrops and vanilla. A clean fragrance with more than a hint of mystery.

      He cleared his head as he pulled open the door. “It was good seeing you again, Dr. March.”

      “You, as well. It’s been a long time. And please call me Catherine.” She smiled for the first time since entering his office. “I was surprised to hear you’d left the police department.”

      “Were you?” His smile felt brittle. “No one else was.”

      “Charleston PD’s loss is my gain.”

      “We’ll see, I guess.” He handed her a fresh business card. “My cell number is on the back. Call me if you need anything or if you have questions.”

      She pocketed the card. “We haven’t talked about financial arrangements.”

      “Jackie at the front desk will explain our terms.”

      “Thank you again.”

      Nick waited until he heard her footsteps on the stairs before moving into the hallway. He stood at the railing overlooking the lobby as she paused at the reception desk to speak with Jackie Morris.

      Then fetching her umbrella and raincoat, Catherine March went out into the rainy afternoon, leaving Nick feeling oddly troubled as he stared after her.

       Chapter Two

      Nick turned away from the railing, anxious to have a look through the newspaper clippings, but the sight of his uncle Emmett lurking in the hallway stopped him cold. He hadn’t expected to see anyone on the second floor. Since his father and uncle retired, Nick mostly had that area of the building to himself, although Emmett still retained his office and he almost always attended the weekly briefings.

      He’d made a point of telling Nick not to expect him until the end of the week, but there he stood looking pleased with himself that he’d caught his nephew off guard. Emmett LaSalle was nothing if not competitive. He took great pride in one-upping the younger detectives in the agency.

      “You’re awfully jumpy,” he observed.

      “I tend to get that way when someone sneaks up behind me,” Nick countered. “What are you doing here anyway? I didn’t expect to see you until Friday.”

      “Change of plans.” Emmett nodded toward the long row of windows in the lobby where rain still pelted the glass. “Can’t take the boat down the coast in this weather.”

      “Fish bite best in the rain,” Nick said. “Or so I hear.”

      “Rain is one thing, but a monsoon is something else. I may be crazy but I’m not stupid.”

      Like Nick’s dad, Emmett LaSalle was a handsome man, tall and lanky with an easy grin. They were fraternal twins with physical similarities, but their personalities were like night and day. Emmett had always been a little on the slippery side whereas Raymond LaSalle was about as straight an arrow as one could hope to find. To Nick, his uncle looked as if he’d stepped from the pages of a noir detective novel. No matter the season or trend, he favored pleated slacks and fitted knit shirts topped with a weathered fedora. He claimed he’d given up gambling years ago, but Nick had his doubts. The detective agency had been a lucrative investment for the LaSalle brothers, and both Emmett and Raymond enjoyed fully funded retirements. But Nick couldn’t help questioning some of his uncle’s recent purchases, like the forty-foot fishing boat he slyly called The Shamus.

      Emmett СКАЧАТЬ