Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Taylor briefly considered working from home on last year’s balance sheets, but instead she went into the office on Monday. While she enjoyed her own company, she missed simply being around other people.
Jameson was out on an assignment, and Glenna was busy with, well, something. So far, the cozy conversation she’d envisioned over a cup of coffee hadn’t materialized.
The clean and tidy office that had been her father’s bore no resemblance to the messy one she’d seen the first time she was in the office. When she carefully set the pencil holder with the Popsicle sticks and the photo of the two of them on the desk, Taylor smiled at the rightness of it all. Then she opened her laptop and got to work.
An hour later, a rap on the wooden doorframe had her glancing up.
Jameson was standing there, a five o’clock shadow darkening his cheeks. He wore a rumpled denim shirt that looked like he’d slept in it. “I didn’t realize you were coming in today.”
“I got lonely.” Taylor wondered where that admission had come from .
A look she couldn’t quite decipher flared in Jameson’s eyes, but he only gestured with his head to Glenna’s now empty desk. “The front door was locked. Any idea where Glenna is?”
“I didn’t even realize she’d left.”
“That figures.” Jameson blew out a breath.
“Is there something I can do for you?”
He shook his head.
“Look…” Taylor fought to keep her voice even. “I realize you don’t want me around, but I?—”
“It’s not about that. I’m stuck on a case. I have the evidence, but the client might still get the short end of the stick.” Jameson scrubbed a hand over his face, the lines of fatigue around his eyes etched deep. “At times like this, I’d talk it out with Bob. I’m missing him today.”
The simple admission, spoken in such a matter-of-fact tone, touched Taylor’s heart.
“I’m no Bob, but I am a good listener.” Taylor gestured toward the visitor’s chair, which not only swiveled but rocked back and forth—she’d discovered that earlier this morning. “Might be worth a try. What do you think?”
After a momentary hesitation, Jameson pulled the door closed behind him and sat.
“The client’s name is Sara Rogers. She and her husband, Russell, were high school sweethearts. They’ve been married for twenty years. She’s a stay-at-home mom to their three kids. She and Russ own a chain of convenience stores. Sara suspected he had another woman. Russ controls the family finances, but Sara secretly saved enough to hire your dad. I took over the case after Bob passed.”
Taylor could only imagine how difficult it would be to continue to be with someone you suspected was cheating on you in order to save up enough money to get your suspicions confirmed.
Her parents might have had their issues, but as far as Taylor knew, infidelity had played no part in the demise of their relationship.
“She’s been giving her husband the benefit of the doubt for months.” Jameson’s voice pulled Taylor from her reverie. “But?—”
“She wanted to know for sure, one way or the other.”
“Exactly right.” Jameson took a sip from the cup of coffee he’d brought with him.
“Did you get the proof?”
“I did. It’s not just one woman, though that would be bad enough.” Jameson’s face remained carefully blank. “So far, I have evidence of him with three other women. There are probably more.”
Taylor let out a breath. “That’s tough.”
Though an understatement, it was the best response Taylor could come up with. Polly and Zach had also been high school sweethearts. Taylor thought of Polly and how devasted her friend would be if Zach ever cheated.
“I spoke with her this morning. Now that her suspicions have been confirmed, Sara intends to file for divorce. But she’s worried. He once told her that if she ever leaves him, he’ll ensure she gets nothing.” This time, Jameson’s disgust for the man showed. “It was said in a joking manner, but she believes he was serious.”
“He probably was serious.”
“I’ve been trying to think of ways I can dig up something more on him, you know, something like him frequenting massage parlors or using escort services, but I’m not even sure it would make much of a difference.”
Taylor considered. “It might be best to go at this from a different angle, a legal one.”
Jameson’s serious dark eyes remained firmly fixed on her face.
Taylor tapped a pencil against the desktop. “A guy like that might also be doing some illegal stuff with their convenience stores. There could be evidence of embezzlement or some other kind of fraud in his business accounts.”
“I already checked that, and he’s clean. Even if he was doing something illegal, I’m not sure that would help Sara get her fair share in the settlement.”
Taylor set down the pencil and offered Jameson a look of apology. She could see the pressure he was under, yet she felt powerless to help. “I’m sorry I don’t have any better ideas. I wish I could be Bob for you.”
“That’s okay. Nobody can be Bob.” Jameson pulled to his feet.
He was nearly out of the office when Taylor gave in to an overwhelming urge to check the pockets of the coat draped over the back of the desk chair.
The feel of paper against her fingers had her heart racing. “Hold on. I got something.”
The excitement in her voice had him whirling back to face her. “What is it?”
“Another note.”
In a few steps, Jameson was at her side. “What does this one say?”
Lawyer, not PI .
Her heart dropped. Her dad had to know when he left his share in Elite to her that she’d want to contribute to the business however she could. So why did he choose this moment to emphasize that she lacked the necessary skills to help?
Jameson’s startled gaze met hers. “What do you think it means?”
Taylor reread the message.
“It’s strange. My dad's notes always provided encouragement and guidance. I don’t think he’s coming down on me, though that was my first thought.” A slow smile lifted her lips as puzzle pieces clicked into place. “Well, I am a lawyer, and I am licensed in Maryland. I believe he’s telling me that I’m someone who can help Sara.”
The following Monday, Sara sat in Taylor’s office, twisting and untwisting her fingers. After closing the office door and blinds to give them privacy, Taylor took a seat.
Jameson had mentioned that when he’d met with Sara late last week to discuss everything he’d discovered, she’d taken the news hard.
While she’d suspected something was going on, seeing compromising photos of her husband with multiple other women, in addition to the other evidence Jameson had compiled, had rocked her world.
At that meeting, Jameson had given Taylor’s contact information to Sara, but it had been radio silence since.
Then Sara had texted Taylor this morning and asked for a meeting.
“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. I’m so sorry,” Taylor said once introductions had been completed. There was no need to say what she was sorry for. They both knew the reason for this meeting.
“I’m sorry, too.” Sara, an attractive woman in her mid to late forties, had the exhausted look of someone who hadn’t slept in days. “I loved Russ. I trusted him.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what led you to suspect he might be cheating?” Taylor didn’t want Sara to think this was mere prurient curiosity, so she added, “Having more details will give me a clearer picture of the man, which will help when I start reviewing his business records.”
Sara expelled a ragged breath.
A knock sounded on the closed door before the woman could speak.
Taylor frowned. She thought she’d made it clear to Glenna and Jameson that they were not to be disturbed. “Come in.”
“Sorry for interrupting.” Glenna pushed open the door and bustled in, holding a cup of steaming coffee. “I just made a fresh pot and thought Sara might like a cup.”
The grateful smile Sara offered Glenna had the irritation sliding from Taylor’s shoulders.
“Thank you.” Sara took the ceramic cup, cradling it in her hand as if needing the warmth as much as the liquid itself. “I left home in such a rush this morning that I—well, anyway, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Glenna glanced at Taylor quickly before easing back out of the room. The door shut with an audible click.
“That was nice of her.” A tear slid down Sara’s cheek as she took a long sip of coffee.
Taylor pushed the box of tissues the desk toward Sara. She’d brought them out this morning, anticipating a difficult discussion.
“You asked…”
“Take your time.” Taylor offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m in no rush.”
Sara grabbed a tissue with her free hand and took another sip of coffee. “Last year, I began noticing Russ working late more often. Our sex life, which I thought had been good, became almost nonexistent. When I mentioned it, he blamed it on work, being tired and stressed.”
“You didn’t believe him.”
“I wanted to, but I’ve known Russ my whole life. Something was off.” Sara’s shoulder lifted and then dropped. “I told myself I was being paranoid. I tried to talk to him about my concerns, but he became defensive and accused me of not trusting him.”
One of Taylor’s closest friends back in Chicago had gone through something similar a couple of years ago. She’d observed firsthand the emotional pain caused by not only betrayal, but gaslighting.
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” She offered Sara a supportive smile. “You say you suspected something since last year. What made you finally decide to hire a private investigator?”
Sara lifted the cup and took another long drink.
The action appeared to steady her. Taylor realized Glenna had somehow known just what was needed.
“Last month, Russ left his cell phone on the counter in the kitchen. I needed to make a quick call, and mine was in the other room, so I picked up his.” Sara’s hands visibly trembled now as she set down the cup. “I put in the code, but it was wrong. He came in while I was trying the code for the third time, convinced I’d keyed the numbers incorrectly. He blew up and accused me of trying to spy on him.” Sara’s expression turned bleak. “The way he overreacted, well, it had alarm bells ringing. I have three children to consider. I couldn’t keep my head in the sand any longer. I needed to know what was going on. I remembered Bob had started a private detective agency and called him. He was so kind.”
“How did you know my dad?”
Surprise flickered in Sara’s eyes for only a second, and then she gave a little laugh. “You can tell where my head is. Jameson gave me your name, but I didn’t make the connection. In answer to your question, Bob and I met years ago. There had been a bunch of smashed car windows in our neighborhood, and our vehicle was one of those hit by the vandals. Your father was one of the officers who spoke with us. He was so kind that I remembered him.”
“He was a good guy.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. A father is so important in a child’s life.” Sara’s eyes filled with tears as if she’d realized what her children stood to lose.
“He is, but so is a mother.” Taylor reached out and squeezed Sara’s hand. “And remember, simply ensuring you have the income and resources you will need to support yourself and your children does not mean their father can’t be a part of their lives. That will be his choice.”
Sara dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. “That’s what I keep telling myself.”
“It sounds as if you might have reason to suspect he won’t play fair if you file for divorce.” Taylor hesitated. “I assume that’s what you are planning, but I guess I should make sure.”
“I won’t share my husband with other women, so yes, that is what I’m planning.” Sara’s expression turned to granite. “Why do I think he’ll try to screw me over? We had friends who lived in Connecticut. They divorced several years ago. There was no cheating involved. Ted just wanted out, but he played fair. Russ mentioned several times that Ted was a schmuck and that Julie didn’t deserve what Ted gave her. He said Ted was the one who worked and did all the heavy financial lifting in that relationship. Julie was a stay-at-home mom to their five children.”
Sara paused as if needing a second to compose herself. When she spoke, her voice was as tight as piano wire. “Julie helped Ted build his business in the early years. In later years, she shouldered the major responsibilities at home, which made it easier for Ted to focus on the business. Ted recognized her contributions. Russ dismissed them.”
“You think he’ll dismiss yours.”
“I don’t think he will. I know he will.” Sara’s blue eyes met hers. “He told me once—this was around the time Ted and Julie split—that if I ever left him, he’d make sure I didn’t get a dime of his hard-earned money. It hurt me that he would say something like that, even jokingly.”
Taylor’s determination to maintain a professional demeanor had her biting back the words that would tell Sara precisely what she thought of Russ as a husband and as a man.
“I don’t want to struggle. I don’t want our children going without so he can shower his girlfriends with gifts. The thing is, I don’t know how to stop that from happening. ”
“Jameson mentioned that you and your husband own several convenience stores.”
“Fifteen. The sixteenth is scheduled to open in Lexington, Kentucky, on February first of next year.”
“Convenience stores are considered a cash-intensive business.” Knowing that wasn’t enough of an explanation, Taylor continued. “As this type of business deals heavily in cash transactions, it’s easier to underreport income and hide assets. A person—say, someone going through a divorce—might attempt to make a profitable business appear unprofitable.”
Understanding had Sara’s blue eyes turning to ice. “We’re not going to let him do that, are we?”
“No, we are not.”
Russell Rogers, Taylor thought, had no idea what he was up against.
By the time Sara left the office, she and Taylor had formulated a plan.
Taylor would meet with a yet-to-be-determined family law attorney and then schedule another meeting with Sara. Once the divorce petition was filed, Taylor would request the business records for the convenience stores.
Until then, things would remain status quo in the Rogers household. As Sara wasn’t sure how long she could continue the charade once her husband returned from his “business trip” later that week, Taylor needed to find a family law attorney interested in mentoring her ASAP.
She wished her dad had included the name of a helpful attorney in his last note.
After taking out the scrap of paper she’d received last week, she set it on the desktop to remind herself that her dad had faith in her, faith that while she might not be a PI, she could do the job .
When she glanced at the rumpled note, she blinked—twice.
The words had changed. Instead of Lawyer, not PI , it now bore the name Abigail Moyer .
“Glenna,” Taylor called out.
Instead of Glenna, Jameson stuck his head in the door Sara had left open when she’d left.
“Glenna is at lunch.” He smiled. “Can I help?”
He’d been smiling at her a lot recently, the warmth of the expression giving her hope that they were back on solid ground.
She pushed the scrap across the desktop toward him. “Look at this.”
Stepping forward, he read the note and then lifted his gaze. “You received another one.”
“It’s the same one.”
Confusion furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
“This is the same paper on which ‘Lawyer, not PI,’ was written. I left it in the coat pocket. When I looked at it again, it bore this name.” Taylor met Jameson’s startled gaze. “Do you know who this is?”
He dropped down into the chair. “I do. Abigail is one of the best divorce attorneys in the region. She was also a close friend of your father.”
Later that day, sitting in Abigail’s elegant office, Taylor discovered that Jameson had been right. This formidable woman appeared to have been a close personal friend of her father.
“Your dad and I, well, we go—or rather, went—all the way back to high school.” Abigail’s dark hair, sprinkled with a liberal dose of salt, added to her distinguished air.
Though not classically attractive, she was a handsome woman. Her blue eyes shone with intelligence, and her compassion appeared mixed with a healthy dose of steel. This attorney had been around the block and was nobody’s fool.
“When Glenna called to inform me Bob had passed…” Abigail paused and closed her eyes as if summoning her inner reserves. “I couldn’t believe it. We had dinner plans that evening.”
“Is that why Glenna called you?” Taylor felt the floor shifting beneath her feet. “Because you and my dad had dinner plans?”
“She knew how much he meant to me.” Abigail’s lips lifted in a sad little smile. “Glenna didn’t want me to hear of his death on the news. I appreciated the courtesy.”
Had her dad and this woman—a woman she’d never heard of, a woman he’d never mentioned—been dating ?
Taylor cleared her throat and finally found her voice. “You and my father dated?”
Abigail half chuckled. “‘Dating’ is such a strange word, especially when sixty isn’t far off. Let’s say your father and I enjoyed each other’s company. We were both divorced with kids out of state.”
Despite how this woman was trying to sell it, this hadn’t been an easy, breezy relationship. Abigail had cared for her father. And if the note Taylor had brought with her was any indication, her dad had cared for Abigail as well.
He’d wanted his daughter to meet this woman, not just to help Sara, but to let Taylor know that she needn’t worry that he’d been lonely. He’d been doing just fine building a life of his own.
“You loved him.” The words popped out before Taylor could stop them.
A startled look crossed Abigail’s face. Then she smiled. “I did.”
“I believe he loved you, too.”
Though Abigail’s voice remained carefully controlled, emotion swarmed her eyes. “What makes you think that?”
“There’s something I need to show you.” Reaching into her bag, Taylor lifted the note and laid it on the desk .
Abigail picked it up and studied it, then glanced up at Taylor, puzzlement blanketing her face. “That’s Bob’s handwriting.”
“You know how people always say that GraceTown is a place where the unexplainable can happen?”
Handing the note back to Taylor, Abigail nodded slowly.
“Well, I’m going to ask you to suspend the rational side of your brain for the next few minutes while I tell you something that you may find difficult to accept.”
“Okay.”
Taylor took a breath and began. “Remember the coat that my father loved to wear…”