Chapter 20
“Are you sure you’re ready to go through with this?”
Rhys. Oh, how she loved him for asking. The man had put his life on the line to save her at the airfield, acted as a buffer between her and the FBI, and now he was her knight in shining armor, ready to slay the dragon.
The dragon being the man on the other side of the two-way mirror, already dressed in an orange jumpsuit, in preparation for his expected transfer to New York.
He was seated at the table, his hands cuffed to a ring bolted into it.
All Taylor could do was wonder about the stranger behind that familiar fa?ade.
Because that was what the man who’d brought her up now was—a stranger. One who’d torn apart her sense of personal identity. Where she would have been without Rhys, she had no idea.
“I still don’t know,” she replied with brutal honesty. “I do know I have no choice. Special Agent Livingston went to the trouble of facilitating this, and on a Sunday too. You brought me here, and Charity and Nick came along for support. I can’t not go through with it.”
Rhys gathered her to him, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her forehead.
“We’ve done what we came here to do. Livingston has our statements.
If you want to walk right out of here and go home, all you have to do is give me the word and we’ll go.
You don’t owe anyone anything, and after what you did at the airfield yesterday, Livingston owes you big time. ”
Maybe Rhys had a point. Maybe, deep down, she wanted to go back home and hide. It would be so easy to give in, but she’d only be kicking the can down the road—one day, she’d want answers and would kick herself for not taking advantage of the opportunity that now presented itself.
“Maybe he does owe me, but he’s repaying me by letting me speak to my… to Charles when he didn’t need to.”
The door beside them opened, revealing the federal agent in question. He spared a glance for the mirror and the man on the other side of it, his expression betraying nothing. “Are you ready, Taylor?”
“I guess so.” On tiptoe, she kissed Rhys on the cheek. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”
“If you’re sure. One thing before you go—if I see any sign of it going sideways?—”
“You’ll come to my rescue?” Taylor wasn’t going to argue. She smiled. “Thank you.”
She turned to Livingston. “Thank you for facilitating this. I would guess it’s not something you would usually do.”
“You guess right.” He shrugged. “You’re lucky it’s the weekend; any other time, we’d have held him overnight and he’d be escorted to the courthouse the next day.
That’s not happening until tomorrow. But…
I owe you for the assistance you gave us yesterday, and in the circumstances, I figured you could use a chance to try to get as much information about your family out of him as possible. ”
Whatever that information might be. Speculation made her stomach churn with anxiety. She could only hope Markham wouldn’t be vindictive enough to withhold vital information from her. Without it, she had no idea where she might start piecing together her real history.
“I appreciate it.”
Livingston gave a curt nod. “You’ll be in there on your own with him.
He’s restrained, so he can’t harm you, but don’t go around to his side of the table or otherwise get too close.
Dalton and I will be monitoring the conversation, and if we have any concerns regarding your safety, the meeting will be terminated.
You should also know everything will be recorded. ”
Her stomach turned somersaults. Not because the conversation would be recorded, but on account of all the potential reasons for recording it. “Understood.”
“Also, as this isn’t exactly in the handbook, I can only give you a limited amount of time.” Livingston stood back and gestured toward the open door. “Shall we?”
Taylor wiped her palms down the side of her jeans. “The sooner we start, the sooner we can all go home.”
“One more thing,” Livingston added. “If at any point you feel uncomfortable, just walk out. You owe him nothing. You don’t need to explain anything to him. And while we’ll be watching from in here, if you need us to come in, just hold up your right hand. Got that?”
“Right hand.” She managed a nervous smile. “Got it.”
Nerves jangling, she let Livingston take the lead and stood back while he opened the door to the interview room.
“Markham, you have a visitor. Remember what I told you—every sound and movement in this room is automatically recorded and may be used in evidence.”
“I remember, Special Agent Livingston,” he drawled insolently. “You brought my girl to see me?”
“Ms. McAndrew is continuing to enjoy the hospitality of her accommodations downstairs. No, you have another visitor.”
Livingston turned to Taylor. “You have ten minutes, fifteen at the most. I’m sorry, but it’s all I can give you.”
Panic took hold for a fraction of a second, but then she lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes. It would be enough time. “I understand.” She strode forward, to face the man who had turned her life and her world upside down.
The fluorescent lighting, while good for the security camera up in the corner, was less than flattering. Bright and cruelly harsh, it had an aging effect on Charles Markham and exposed his unease, as well as evidence of the injuries he’d sustained.
“Well, this is a surprise. I wondered why they pulled me from my cozy little cell. What brings you here, daughter not mine?”
The taunt cut deep, but Taylor refused to let the false bravado get to her.
After all, she was free to walk out of the room at any point.
She thought of Rhys on the other side of the mirror and wrapped her love for him—and his for her—around her like a suit of armor.
She strolled from the door to the chair designated for her, and only spoke once she’d made herself comfortable.
“You didn’t think you could drop a bombshell like that without any consequences, did you?” She folded her arms. “I want to know the truth.”
“About what, exactly?”
“Everything. Thanks to you, my whole life has been a lie. If what you said is true, then who am I?”
He gave a careless shrug. “How the hell should I know? I don’t waste effort on meaningless details. Your mom was a widow when I met her. She was good in the sack and the home-cooked meals were a bonus. Would I have married her if I hadn’t knocked her up with your kid brother? I doubt it.”
Taylor’s blood ran cold, momentarily robbing her of the ability to think, never mind speak. “What did you say?”
He huffed out an irritated breath and rolled his eyes.
“You want the truth? I met her, we fucked, she got pregnant. I could have walked away, but regular sex and home-cooked meals were luxuries I hadn’t had in a long time.
We got married; she insisted I adopted you so you wouldn’t have a different last name from our brat-to-be.
You were, what, three? All I know is you were young enough to forget your original name?—”
“Which was?” Taylor spat the words out without thinking.
“How the fuck should I remember? Like I just said, I don’t waste effort on meaningless details.”
Taylor was stunned. How was this man the same one who’d brought her up, who’d convinced her he was her father and he loved her? “So, what happened? You said… I have a brother?”
“Had. Not have. She lost the kid. That’s why she walked in front of the semi.
I was going to dump you with Child Services, but then I found out about the terms of the trust her parents set up for her, and how she tied it up for you after we were married.
I wasn’t going to leave that kind of money behind, so I played the grieving husband and father for as long as I needed to.
Being a single dad helped me score big with the ladies.
All those nights I was ‘working late’? I was enjoying the hell out of all the pussy I wanted.
Why the hell do you want to know all this shit now? ”
She’d been such a fool. The scales comprehensively fell from her eyes; the man who’d treated her mother so badly would have no problem stealing from his employer, committing blackmail, or ripping Taylor’s New York life from her by telling her to flee.
“You never had any intention of taking the evidence to the authorities, did you? You stole it and you always intended to extort money from the company.”
“The trust fund ran out. What was I supposed to do? When I stumbled across the contracts and specifications, all my prayers were answered. Then it occurred to me I could use it to get you out of my life once and for all, so that’s what I did.”
The scale of what he’d done gradually began to sink in. “But… the pretense of being my father. You kept it going for years… decades. How…?”
His short, harsh laugh mocked her. “Don’t you get it yet? Surely, you’re not still that naive? Have you not learned yet that if a man wants something bad enough, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it? Whatever. It. Takes. You should ask Harman. Oh no. I forgot—you can’t. He’s dead.”
For a few seconds, the implications of Markham’s words, combined with his attitude, refused to sink in. However, two and two could not be prevented from making four for long, and the truth dawned. “You killed Wyatt?”
He lifted his chin and gave her a look of pure contempt.
“He made the mistake of coming to me with his concerns about what he’d found in the system logs, instead of taking it to the police, or even his supervisor.
He let his relationship with you cloud his better judgment…
said he wanted to give me a chance—as his possible future father-in-law—to make things right.
Being an expert in the IT department, he even offered to help me and keep it on the downlow.
I couldn’t let that happen. He was a risk I wasn’t prepared to take—a loose end that needed… tying up.”
Leaning back in the bolted-down chair, he directed his cold, dead-eyed gaze straight at her.
Then he raised a hand, forming an imitation pistol with his fingers, pointed straight at Taylor.
He mimicked the sound of two muffled shots, accompanied by an exaggerated impression of the recoil from each discharge.
The fake double tap made her feel sick. Dear, sweet Wyatt had had thoughts of marrying her, and the selfish, soulless creature in front of her had murdered him in cold blood. Markham’s scheming had robbed her of both her mother and a future with the man she’d loved.
And a brother who’d never even had a chance to live.
In a matter of seconds, the last vestiges of any feelings for him as her father withered and died, and with startling speed, her next steps became crystal-clear.
She went to raise her right hand, but before she could turn thought into deed, the interview room door was flung open, rebounding with a crash that had Markham cowering in fear, while she could only gaze with relief and gratitude—but most of all, love—at the familiar figure standing there, Livingston right behind him.
“Enough,” Rhys growled. “This ends now. You say one more word to her, and so help me, I’ll kill you myself.”
He turned to Taylor. “I’m taking you home.”