CHAPTER 30
Cotton gained on the Volvo but intentionally stayed back so as not to arouse suspicion.
The boulevard before him was busy with traffic, typical for a city that accommodated nearly two million people.
The road cut a swath north to south through the city among a steady parade of trees and buildings.
The rain had finally subsided, but the pavement remained soaked.
He assumed the driver was the woman from the attack.
He had to stay with her, as it was the only lead left.
Somebody was systematically eliminating anything and everyone.
That had to be intentional. What else could it be? This whole thing had turned chaotic.
A lot like his own life at the moment.
Not all that long ago he’d watched as Suzy Baldwin died in his arms. A woman from his past who reappeared in Switzerland with quite a revelation.
A daughter had been born as a result of an affair they’d had twenty years ago, at a time when Cotton was married and a much different person.
A young, brash JAG lawyer who cheated on his wife.
Even after all the ensuing years, just to think about that awful reality hurt. Seeing Suzy had brought it back home.
Then she died.
Horribly.
But a secret from her past survived. A file that Suzy’s employer had accumulated for whatever reason.
Mainly field reports from an investigative agency that apparently had located a young woman.
Three color images showed a lean figure in a simple red dress, her face sharp-featured and attractive.
There had also been an order of adoption, issued by a Texas court.
The petitioner, Susan Baldwin, noted as the natural mother.
The adoptive parents’ names had also been there, Evan Acree Wells and Kristie Restco Wells, with the court extinguishing all Suzy’s parental rights in their favor.
He knew what that meant. Even the birth certificate was changed so that Suzy’s name disappeared.
The child’s new name? Jacqueline Suzanne Wells.
The order also provided that the petitioner had sworn, under oath, that she had no idea as to the identity of the natural father.
He’d also seen a copy of the new birth certificate showing the adoptive parents now as mother and father, vested with all the rights as if they’d produced the child themselves.
But it had been one other sheet that had grabbed his undivided attention.
The original Texas birth certificate that noted the date of birth.
Seven months after Suzy and he parted ways.
Did he have a daughter? Hard to say.
The jury was still out on that one.
Was there a twenty-year-old young woman out there who was biologically half his?
Did she know she was adopted? That was a tough secret to keep.
Had she wondered about her biological parents?
But maybe she had no desire to know from where she’d come.
Him finding her might not be welcomed. So many questions.
So many doubts. He needed to make a decision on what to do, one way or the other, then stick to it.
But that was something for later.
His phone buzzed.
He answered the call, switching to speaker and laying the unit on the passenger seat.
“Tell me what’s happening,” Stephanie said.
“There are a bunch of dead bodies at that law office,” he told her. “Somebody is cleaning house. And they wanted me on that list too.”
“An attempt was made on the king’s life tonight,” she said. “It failed, and get this, Westlake now says Princess Lysa is a tacit Russian asset.”
“Didn’t see that wrinkle coming.”
“Neither did we. The king is livid. But for some odd reason, I believe Westlake. To a point.”
He listened as Stephanie explained the entire situation. Then he said, “So this whole thing could be a dog-and-pony show?”
“I’m not sure. This is not going to be as easy to reveal as it was for your Mr. Solomon.”
He knew what she meant. A story he’d told her a long time ago.
Of a local lawyer from Vidalia, where he grew up in Georgia, highly capable, with a quick wit, and a storied biblical name.
Noah Solomon. Once Solomon had cross-examined a young man claiming damages for an arm injury caused by the negligence of a school bus driver.
Will you please show us how high you can lift your arm now?
Solomon asked. The young man raised his arm to shoulder level, his face agonized with pain.
Thank you, Solomon said. And now, could you show us how high you could lift it before the accident?
The young man eagerly shot his arm up above his head.
The plaintiff, of course, lost the case.
“Nothing is ever that easy,” he said to her.
“We have a serious mess here,” Stephanie said, exasperation in her voice. “It’s possible the woman you’re following is Monica Butler-White. We need her. Alive. It’s the only way we’re going to get to the truth here.”
“I’ll get back to you when I have something,” he told her.
The Volvo shot forward and passed a car ahead.
Crap. “Gotta go.”
He ended the call.
Another car coming in the opposite lane screeched its brakes and blared a horn as it scraped the Volvo’s side. The Volvo came back into the right lane and accelerated.
Had he been made?
His gaze swept the road and he took his chances.
Tires shrieked and burned off some smoke as he sped ahead, passing a couple of cars.
Another car coming toward him swerved but still grazed him, causing a little fishtailing that he wrestled back under control.
He kept the accelerator down, found traction, and kept going.
The Volvo came to an intersection, slowed, then sped through as the traffic signal changed from red to green.
He maneuvered around a car stopped in front of him into the opposite lane, then came back into his own lane and approached the intersection, intending to cross.
Headlights glared from his right.
Bright. Coming fast. Out of nowhere.
He tried to speed out of the way but the other car slammed hard into his rear passenger side, metal crunching metal, glass shattering, spinning the BMW around like a teacup at Disneyworld.
The momentum sent him across the wet asphalt in a dizzying arc, but all movement stopped when the car slammed into something solid.
A harsh rattling breath hissed through his teeth.
Vertigo overcame him.
And the world went black.