Maybe Baby (20 page)

“Oops, guess I forgot to put my robe on. Is it warm in here?” I asked, fanning myself. “Be right back.”

I took my time walking to my bedroom, knowing that his sapphire eyes were watching my backside the whole way; I got some satisfaction from that. I grabbed my bathrobe from the hook on the bathroom door and put it on. I left the belt untied; I didn’t want to hide everything from him. As I exited my room Trey was in the kitchen, picking up all of the trash. As he picked the empty wine bottle up, he turned to me.

“How were you able to buy this?” he asked.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.

“Because if I find out anyone that works for me bought you alcohol after all the shit that happened a few weeks back, that's cause for immediate termination.”

“Chill, Trey,” I laughed. “I bought it myself when I was staying with Gina. They didn’t card me.” I sauntered over to where he was standing, taking the empty wine bottle from him and setting it on the counter. “I’d offer you some wine but, as you can see, I’m all out.”

“I’m surprised that you’d come back to this cottage, Tylar.”

“Well, I really had no choice,” I responded.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“I’m not staying with you after the way you accused me of being a
whore
,” I snapped, my voice rising.

“I
never
said that,” he argued.

“What do you call asking me about your white shirt, your robe, your razor? I expected you to be pissed about the car, but I didn’t expect you to presume I'd brought in some random guy, let him use your razor, wear your clothes, and fuck me in your bed.” I was slurring now, pointing my plastic cup at him accusingly.

Trey grabbed the cup from me and emptied the contents into the sink. Before I had a chance to verbally blast him, he took my arm and pulled me into the living area, planting me firmly beside him on the couch. I started to say something, but his voice cut me off before I got a syllable out.

“You're going to keep your smart mouth shut for now. I'll do the talking,” he said in his control-freak tone. “I’m not going to beg you to come back and stay at the manor. But the invitation is open. I came by to let you know that I was able to reach Andrew Sneed this week while I was in Atlanta.”

He had my full attention now.

“Your trust has been depleted, and your mother quit the law firm a few weeks ago. Apparently she's also left your home in Radcliff, and no one knows where she went.”

“I don’t understand. That trust was only accessible by me.”

“Sneed says your signature's on the disbursement requests that started while you were still living with your mother. Those were for minimal amounts. The big take was after you arrived here. Sneed has a copy of it with what he maintains is your signature. Also, the fax stamp on the document shows it came from the fax machine in the business office here, with a fax cover sheet that's on our stationary. Sneed had no reason to believe that it wasn't legitimate. Fax and scanned signatures are considered to be as legal as the originals.”

I gasped.

“There’s more,” he continued. I sat frozen, wondering how this could get any worse. “It looks like your mother’s motivation in getting her part-time job at their legal firm was for the purpose of having the trust managed there. She actually started working there prior to the establishment of your trust. It's a private trust; there's no requirement for it to be filed as a public record with any government agency. Before your mom left her job, just after your trust was cleaned out, she either took or destroyed all of the documents pertaining to it, electronic or otherwise."

“Why would she do that?” I asked.

“To destroy the trail back to the trustor, the person who set up the trust.”

“But I know who that is. It’s my dad, her ex-husband.”

“Tylar, I’ve had one of our law clerks digging into some of this. Your mom was never married to anyone.”

“Okay, you need to stop," I said firmly. "I can't listen to any more of this.” My voice was cracking, my shoulders shaking. I pulled my knees up tucking them under my chin and burying my face into them.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, pulling me to him. I pushed him away.

“I can’t deal with this.”

“But this is something you can’t simply ignore. It looks like your mother's committed a felony act. Yet Sneed isn’t convinced any criminal activity took place. We need to establish that your signature was forged in order to start the process with the local prosecutor in that county. Timing was a factor in all of this, I’m convinced.”

“How do we do that?” I asked.

“We’ll go to Kentucky. You’ll need to confirm the signature as a forgery, and then file a formal complaint with the Prosecutor’s office.”

“But we don’t even know where she is.”

“That’s why you need to go to your home and assess the situation there. Talk to neighbors, her friends, anyone who might shed some light.”

“So you’d go with me?” I asked.

“I told you I would,” he replied. “I have the next couple of days free into early next week. I booked a flight for us tomorrow morning.”

“I’m supposed to leave Friday night to fly to Atlanta to spend a few days with Gina,” I murmured.

“Really, Tylar?”

“I’ll call Gina tomorrow morning,” I replied. “I’m sure she can rebook my flight.”

“Okay. Get some rest. Are you sure you won’t stay with me at the house tonight?”

“I really don’t feel like changing, packing, and all of that right now. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit buzzed.”

“I noticed,” he said, brushing the top of my head with his lips.

I melted, of course. “I have some things to tell you Trey, but I don’t want to get into it all tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to sleep on your couch, though, and no argument from you.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

I got a pillow and a sheet for him and went to my room, cranked my window A/C, and was asleep within minutes.

Chapter 20

Trey nudged me awake while it was still dark outside. I was hung-over and grumbling. He told me he didn’t want to hear it; it was my own fault.

I dressed hurriedly and packed the clothes that he'd laid out for me. This was record time for me to be ready to travel on a moment’s notice. Trey hustled me out, locking my cottage behind us.

“What time's our flight?” I asked as we walked down the still-dark path, past the stables to the manor.

“Seven-thirty. The limo will be here in thirty minutes. Get a move on it because I’ve still got to pack.”

Once the limo picked us up, I snuggled up against Trey and fell back to sleep. It seemed like two minutes later we were taking our first-class seats on the commercial flight to Louisville. The flight was relatively short, but we were given top-notch treatment.

The flight attendants continually gushed over Trey, offering him more coffee, juice, whatever. I was annoyed with their fawning over him, but I didn’t want to be obvious, so I closed my eyes as if sleeping and ended up draped across him during most of the flight. The flight attendant made sure to come by during our initial descent into Louisville instructing Trey that I needed to be in my assigned seat, with my seat belt fastened during landing.

“Wake up, Tylar,” he said softly. “We’re getting ready to land in a few minutes. Let’s get you buckled up in your seat.” He buckled my seat belt as I opened my eyes, catching the attention of the flight attendant who'd been flirting with Trey the duration of the flight. I gave her a silent smirk.

Once landed, we picked up the rental car, a Lexus SUV, and Trey drove us to the Crowne Plaza Hotel near the airport. After we'd settled into our room, I called Gina, letting her know there'd been a change in plans. She said she would call the airlines and change my flight. We decided the weekend of my birthday, July 14, would work. Gina was actually more excited about moving my visit so she could plan a celebration at the Sanctuary.

Our first stop was at the law offices of Findley, Morris & Sneed, L.L.P. In all of the years my mother had worked there, I'd never seen it. It was a two-story red brick building, located several blocks from the courthouse on the outskirts of the downtown area. Trey had evidently called ahead; Mr. Sneed was expecting us.

Mr. Sneed was a short, rather pudgy man in his mid-fifties His suit looked like something he'd purchased used ten years ago. Definitely not your upscale law firm, but certainly the type of firm I could picture my mom working for.

Trey made the introductions and we took our seats in his small, drab office. Sneed provided copies of the trust disbursement documents that he'd ordered from the bank that held my funds. Trey and I sorted through them, separating them into two piles: one being the documents that had my actual signature authorization, the others that were forged. Three documents were forged; two of the three were for $1,000 each, and had been executed with my forged signature during my freshman year of college. The final withdrawal from the trust was for the entire balance left of $53,454.78. This was processed just a week after I'd arrived at the Sinclair estate. Sneed provided a copy of the fax transmission cover sheet that was on La Vie Belle stationary.

I was puzzled by my mother's motivation. The house was paid off, or so she'd told me. I'd given her my Jeep. Her only bills were utilities, food, clothing, and car insurance. Surely, her salary would've covered those expenses.

“Mr. Sneed, did my mother give notice when she left her job here?”

“She did not,” he said to me. “She collected her last paycheck on a Friday and did not show for work the following Tuesday. Martha, our other part-time clerk, got worried. Martha drove out to your house in Radcliff, which appeared to be empty. When Mr. Sinclair here got in touch with us last week questioning the status of your trust, well we tried to dig deeper. As you know, any documentation concerning your trust has disappeared or was destroyed. I'm really sorry. I never expected this from your mother.”

“Really?” I asked.

He seemed puzzled that I'd doubt that. “She was a good, consistent worker here for years, Ms. Preston. None of the partners saw anything odd or unusual with her behavior. At least not until just over a month ago.”

“What happened then?” I asked. He seemed uncomfortable discussing it.

“She started coming in a little later on her work days. Generally, she seemed as if she wasn’t feeling well. We don’t know anything for certain, Ms. Preston, but Martha suspected your mother was pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” I was doubtful; pregnancy was always her worst fear.

He nodded and continued. “It was just Martha’s suspicion, though. Martha and Maggie would talk some on the one day a week they worked together. Maggie—your mom, didn’t divulge a lot of details about her personal life. It was years before we even knew she had a daughter. Martha got the impression that your mom had met someone she was really serious about. I guess Martha just put two and two together, but who knows, she may have come up with five on that one.”

I was stunned by the possibility. I knew Mom was young enough for more children, but all she'd ever done was complain about me.

Trey spoke up. “Thanks for your time and for producing these copies for us, Mr. Sneed. We'll be meeting with the prosecutor today to press criminal charges against Mrs. Preston. Let me make it clear that there's nothing indicating your firm actively participated with this activity; however, you know as well as I do that there's an issue of liability for criminal activities conducted under the auspices of the employer, in this case your firm, that may result in a civil suit.”

“We're a limited liability partnership, Mr. Sinclair.”

“I understand that, Mr. Sneed, however, I'll need to examine how Kentucky regards limited liability partnerships with respect to tortious injury resulting from negligence in the administration of trusts. I'll be back in touch with you if I need more information." Mr. Sneed nodded and tugged at his collar. I thanked him saying good-bye as Trey guided me out of the office.

“Where to now?” I asked once we stood on the sidewalk.

“I think we need to gather more information as to where your mother might’ve gone. Obviously she's left the current jurisdiction, but that doesn’t prevent us from making a criminal complaint. It puts an active warrant out for her at least, which will show up in any other state if she gets stopped for a traffic infraction. The more information we can provide the prosecutor’s office, the more attention they’ll give the case.”

I had no clue as to who could shed any light on her whereabouts. The only friend she had was Mona, but I hadn’t seen her since high school.

I remembered Mona had stopped over at our house one Sunday afternoon long ago. I'd overheard her telling Mom that Laurie was pregnant. She'd wanted Laurie to have an abortion, but she wouldn’t. Mona was upset, saying that she'd wanted better for Laurie than to end up in the same place as her. I remember my mom getting defensive with her on that.

“What the hell is wrong with where you’re at, Mona?”

“Oh, come on Maggie. Is this the life you'd choose for your daughter?”

“Hey, if it’s good enough for me, it’s good enough for her!”

“You can’t mean that, Maggie,” Mona said, shocked.

“I like what I do, Mona. I love the way men look at me, touch me, and want me. I love the money I make for doing something that I love to do, something that I’m really good at. My only problem is that they’re starting to look at Tylar more than me. I don’t want the competition.”

Mona had a horrified look on her face. I was in the kitchen, but I heard their conversation. Mona noticed me then, and whispered something to my mother.

“I don’t give a shit what she hears,” Mom replied. “She needs to face the reality of life. It’s ‘use or be used.’ Simple as that.”

I tuned out the rest of their conversation as I went upstairs to my room. Another memory to be hidden away.

“Hey, Tylar?” Trey’s voice cut into my thoughts.

“I’m sorry—what?”

“I asked if you have your house key.”