Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's Son\The Brother's Wife\The Long-Lost Heir (23 page)

Northrup was clearly startled. “You know about him?”

“I was helping my father in the gardens when he arrived at the mansion yesterday.”

Northrup sat forward in his chair, his expression tense and alert. “Did you get a good look at him?”

Jake shrugged. “Fairly so.”

The gray eyes hardened almost imperceptibly. “What did you think? Did he look like the man in this photo?”

Jake stared at Northrup in surprise. “Are you telling me you haven’t met him yet? I thought your office handled all claims against the Kingsley estate.”

“We do. I’ve seen the man’s picture, and I’ve spoken with him on the phone. But I haven’t met him in person yet.”

“Then how did he connect with Iris? And with Edward?” Jake added, though everyone knew Iris was the head of the family. If rumors were true, Edward was hardly in any shape to choose which socks to wear each day, let alone which Adam Kingsley wannabe to interview.

Northrup’s features hardened. “He was shrewd enough to bypass my office and go directly to Iris. He sent her a picture of himself, and the resemblance to Andrew was so great, she agreed to see him. In fact, she offered to fly him from Houston to Memphis in the Kingsley jet, but he declined. He told her it wouldn’t be right to spend Kingsley money on him until they know for sure he’s Adam. Iris was very impressed by this.”

“I can imagine,” Jake said dryly. He sat on the edge of his desk, gazing down at Victor Northrup. “But what does any of this have to do with me?”

“I’m coming to that,” Northrup said, hesitating. “As Iris’s attorney, but more importantly as her friend, my job is to protect her interests. At any cost. For all we know, this man is a very clever impostor who has managed to circumvent the background check my office would have conducted on him if not for Iris’s intervention.”

“Can’t your office conduct the investigation now?” Jake asked.

Northrup shook his head. “It’s now become very complicated. Iris, you see, has convinced herself this man is her long-
lost grandson. He’s agreed to a DNA test, but we won’t have the results for weeks. In that length of time, a professional con man can do a great deal of damage, both financially and psychologically. It’s the latter I’m most worried about. Iris is extremely vulnerable right now. If she continues to believe this man is her grandson, and then finds out weeks later that he is not, the result could be devastating.”

“I understand,” Jake said. “But I still don’t see why your office can’t at least run a background check on him.”

Again Northrup hesitated, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Iris doesn’t want an investigation of any kind. She’s made her position very clear. She wants to believe this man is her grandson for as long as possible. If I find out that he isn’t…if I’m the one to break the news to her—”

“I get it,” Jake interrupted. “She might want to shoot the messenger.”

The piercing gray eyes met his. “That’s where you come in. I want you to investigate this man, leave no stone unturned, but I don’t want anyone to know that I’ve hired you.”

“What if I find out he’s an impostor?” Jake asked. “How are you going to convince Mrs. Kingsley?”

“You get the proof,” Northrup said. “I’ll worry about dealing with Iris. Do we have an agreement?”

Jake had a feeling that making a deal with Victor Northrup might be akin to striking a bargain with the devil. He wasn’t about to rush into anything. He knew Northrup hadn’t.

“Let me think about it overnight and I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

Northrup seemed surprised by Jake’s hesitancy, but he shrugged. “Fair enough,” he replied, rising to leave. “I’ll expect to hear from you first thing in the morning. We can go over the details then.”

When Northrup was at the door, Jake said, “One more thing.”

Northrup turned.

“Why me? There are dozens of qualified investigators in this city. You have to know how Mrs. Kingsley feels about me.”

“That’s precisely why I chose you.” Northrup’s expression remained unfathomable. “You aren’t afraid of Iris Kingsley, and from what I’ve been able to gather, you don’t mind getting your hands dirty if the situation warrants it.”

* * *

F
ROM HER CAR
, H
OPE
watched Victor Northrup leave Jake’s building and head her way. She slumped in her seat, not wanting to be seen. Iris had made her wishes clear, and if Victor saw Hope here, he might put two and two together and figure out she’d come to hire Jake to investigate Michael.

Come to think of it, what was Victor doing here? Hope wondered, lifting her head slightly to see if he’d passed by her car yet. She couldn’t imagine that he’d been visiting a client in this area of town. Could he have been here to see Jake, too? Had he also gone against Iris’s wishes and hired a private investigator to check into Michael’s background?

But why Jake? Northrup’s law firm had several private investigators on the payroll at any given time. Why would he not use one of them? Unless, of course, he was afraid Iris might get wind of the investigation. But whatever his motive, Hope knew he had thought out his alternatives carefully. Victor Northrup was not an impulsive man.

Although he had been close to the Kingsleys for years and Iris and Andrew had trusted him implicitly with both their private and business dealings, Hope didn’t really like Victor. There had always been something about him that was just a little too smooth. A little too polished. When he had brought her the news of Andrew’s death, his condolences had sounded almost practiced, as if he knew the right things to say, but lacked the emotion to make them convincing.

Hope watched him get into a silver Rolls-
Royce and pull away from the curb. She waited until he was out of sight, then got out of her car and crossed the street to Jake’s building. The receptionist had already left for the day, so Hope studied the directory mounted on the wall near the entrance to locate Jake’s office.

The elevator lifted her to the third floor, and when the doors slid open, Hope’s stomach knotted with nerves. What if he wouldn’t see her? He’d been so cool to her this morning, and there was no reason to think his attitude might have changed in a few hours. Ten years of bitterness lay between them, after all, and as Hope stood outside his office door, poised to knock, every one of those years came crashing down on her.

Before she could change her mind, she lifted her hand and rapped on the door, then opened it without waiting for him to answer.

“Hope?” Jake cocked his head, gazing at her warily as she stood in his doorway. She wore a white suit that made her look crisp and clean and very expensive.
Untouchable
was the word that came to mind. “Is something wrong?”

She looked uncertain for a moment, as if she’d somehow been picked up and transported to his office through no will of her own. Like Dorothy landing in Oz. Her light brown hair was pulled back and fastened at her nape, emphasizing her high cheekbones, the delicate arch of her brows. “No. Nothing’s wrong. I’d like to talk to you if you have a minute.”

“What about?”

She paused, glancing around his office as if to make sure they were alone. “You were at the house yesterday when Michael Eldridge came to see the Kingsleys.”

“The man claiming to be Adam Kingsley, you mean.” Jake leaned against the desk, crossing his feet at the ankles. He waved her to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, and Hope sat down. “He was there again this morning, wasn’t he?”

Hope nodded. “He isn’t exactly claiming to be Adam Kingsley. At least, not yet. But Iris is convinced that he is. He bears an amazing resemblance to Andrew.”

“Yeah. I saw him.” He’d also seen Hope’s face yesterday when she’d seen him. For a moment, it had been as if she’d thought Andrew had come back from the dead, and her unbridled reaction wasn’t something Jake had been able to put out of his mind since.

He gazed at her now, wondering what the hell she was doing here. When he’d seen her just after Andrew’s death, she’d barely been civil, but Jake guessed he should have expected that. He’d found out some pretty dark secrets about her husband, and Hope hadn’t wanted to believe him.

The two of them had never been able to see eye to eye on Andrew Kingsley. Jake had known Andrew all of his life, had thought him to be an arrogant, selfish bastard, but Hope, from the very first time she’d met him, had thought him charming and sophisticated. A true Southern gentleman. So different from the cops she’d been around all of her life. So different from Jake.

He used to wonder how their lives might have turned out if he hadn’t been the one to introduce Hope to Andrew. Jake wanted to believe it no longer mattered, but deep down, he knew that it did. He knew it every time he caught a glimpse of Hope driving up to the Kingsley mansion in her white Jaguar. He knew it every time he saw the wide band of diamonds glittering on her finger and the expensive clothes gracing her slender body.

He knew it now, as his gaze skimmed her familiar features—the lightly tanned complexion, the golden-
brown hair, the beguiling violet eyes. It mattered then, and it mattered now, that she had chosen Andrew Kingsley over him.

More than Jake wanted to admit.

She crossed her legs, and he heard the slight rustle of her nylons. Awareness shot through him like a bullet. Hope Sterling was still the most desirable woman he’d ever known. Ten years and a dead husband lay between them, but Jake still found her just as attractive as he ever had. The knowledge made him want to put his fist through a brick wall.

Instead, he stared at her calmly, waiting for her to speak.

“Before I tell you why I’m here,” she said, “I’d like to ask you something. Would you tell me why Victor Northrup was here to see you?”

Jake shrugged. “Who says he was?”

“I saw him leave your building right before I came in.”

“Lots of people have offices in this building besides me,” Jake replied. “The nature of my business is confidential. I don’t talk about who comes and goes through that door.”

Hope smiled slightly. “I guess I can appreciate that. Especially since I don’t want anyone to know I’ve come here, either. But I have to know whether or not you’re working for Victor.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to hire you myself. To investigate Michael Eldridge.”

Jake lifted his brows in surprise. “But you made your feelings about me perfectly clear after Andrew died.”

She glanced away. “That was different.”

“How? You didn’t believe what I found out about your husband. Why would you believe what I tell you about this guy?”

She studied the purse in her lap for a moment, then her gaze lifted to his. “Because you don’t hold a grudge against Michael Eldridge.”

His voice hardened. “I told you then and I’ll tell you now. My investigation into Andrew’s connection with Simon Pratt wasn’t personal. I was doing what any good cop would have done.”

“But you weren’t just any cop,” she said. “And no matter how hard you might have tried, I don’t think you could have kept your personal feelings out of your investigation.”

“So what makes you think I can do that now?” He gave her a long, relentless stare. “There are other investigators in Memphis, Hope. Why did you come to me, knowing how I feel about the Kingsleys? Knowing how they feel about me?”

She hesitated, as if unsure how far she was willing to go. Then she shrugged. “Because I know you’re good. I know you can’t be bought. And because I need to know the truth about this man. As soon as possible.”

There was a desperation in her eyes that intrigued Jake. “Why not let the Kingsleys handle it? After all, this really doesn’t concern you any longer, does it?”

Anger flickered in her eyes before she quickly quelled it. No one else would even have noticed, but after all these years, Jake still knew Hope too well. Ten years had not changed the fact that she still tried to suppress her emotions—and he still didn’t want to let her get away with it.

They had been like fire and ice, he and Hope. His temper had always been hot, fierce, quick to explode, while her anger lay frozen beneath the surface, dormant for days, weeks, sometimes months at a time. Maybe even years, he thought, gazing at her now.

“Just because Andrew is dead doesn’t mean I don’t still care about his family,” Hope said. “Iris especially. She’s been very good to me, Jake. I don’t want to see her hurt. She’s very fragile right now.”

Somehow “fragile” wasn’t a term he could ascribe to Iris Kingsley.

“I know you don’t like her,” Hope continued. “I know you think she got you fired from the department—”

“I don’t think,” Jake interrupted bitterly. “I know. That review board had her fingerprints all over it, and you know it.”

He saw her knuckles whiten as her fingers tightened on the clasp of her purse. “I honestly don’t know what happened,” she said. “But I want you to know I had nothing to do with it.”

Jake glanced around his shabby office. “Well, that’s some comfort, isn’t it?”

The anger flashed in her eyes again, and this time she wasn’t so quick to suppress it. She stood. “It was a mistake for me to come here. I should have realized—”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “You probably should have. But as long as you’re here, you might as well finish what you started.”

She hesitated. A myriad of emotions flickered over her features, so quickly even Jake was hard-
pressed to recognize them. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe it’s time we got everything out into the open. Ten years is a long time to carry a grudge, Jake.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“You think I don’t see the loathing and disgust in your eyes every time you look at me?” she asked. “You think I don’t know how much you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” he said. Although sometimes he wished he did. Especially at night. Lying alone in his bed. Remembering the way things once were. The way things might have been. “I don’t hate you,” he repeated.

She didn’t respond. Walking over to the window, she stared down at the street. Jake wondered what she saw. The overflowing Dumpster in the alley below? A drunk stumbling out of the bar next door?