Fern Michaels - Tuesday’s Child

“No. Well, maybe. It would be nice, though, if we did. Adam lived at the house until the last two weeks of his life. He might well have hidden something in the house, like Audrey’s journals. But would he have left them there to be found, knowing when he entered the hospital he wouldn’t be getting out and going home? I’m thinking the way he saw it was he’d confessed, and that was the end of it.

“If he ever did have Audrey’s journals, he might have hidden them somewhere. I have not discounted in my own mind that Dr. Rosenberg might have them. For that matter, Adam could have hidden them in his locker at the country club where he plays golf. Or if he belonged to a gym, he would have a locker there and could have hidden them there. No one at the firm has gotten that far into this mess yet to have thought of that until today. For all we know, they could be hidden in the trunk of his car.

“Nick, let me ask you a question. Knowing Audrey Star’s condition, knowing she knew she was never going to walk again, knowing everything she knew at the time of her death, what would she write in a journal? Her world was one room. She watched television, her husband read to her, a nurse took care of her needs. What would she write about? Why would she even bother to keep a journal? Before, yes, I understand the need to put thoughts to paper. I think those damn journals are suddenly a very big deal.”

Nick took his eyes off the road long enough to give Patty a piercing stare. “What happens if we can’t find them?”

“We have to find them. We look until we have to give up. That’s the bottom line.”

“Okay, we’re here,” Nick said as he put on his blinker and made a left turn onto a gravel driveway. “I hope you have the code to the security gate. Kala said the other day that all the staff are gone, even the gardeners.”

“Four double zeros,” Patty said. Nick punched in the numbers, and the gate slowly slid to the side. He drove through and continued on under the canopy of ancient oak trees.

It was a beautiful house, a huge Tudor with extensions that ran to the back of the house so as not to disturb the architecture. The shrubbery was dense and lush but overgrown. Flowers bloomed everywhere, but they were leggy and spindly and in need of water. The noonday sun glistened on the diamond-paned windows.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it, Nick? This is the first time I’m seeing it. But Sophie described it to me. She said it was a cold, strange house, beautifully decorated with costly things, but there was no warmth at all to it. Even if I didn’t know the house was empty, I would still think so. It just looks like a shell to me even though I can see window treatments. Is that crazy or what?” Patty asked, getting out of the car.

“That’s because you’re a people person, Patty. But I understand what you’re saying. It’s almost like the house is shouting, ‘They’re all gone and they aren’t coming back.’ ”

“I wonder what Sophie will do with it,” Patty said.

Nick stopped in midstride. “If Sophie were to ask me for my opinion, I’d tell her to burn the damn thing to the ground.”

Patty laughed, a bitter sound. “Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing. Maybe she could knock it down and make a little park with benches and flowers and stuff. A few statues, that kind of thing. A place where people could walk to in the evening after the sun goes down. Let’s hope she asks for our opinions. Okay, here goes. Why do I feel like I should ring the bell?”

“Is that some kind of girl thinking? Just open the damn door already and get this show on the road.”

Patty whirled around. “What’s your problem, Nick? I’m getting sick and tired of your attitude. If you didn’t want to come with me, all you had to do was say no. No I can accept. This surly attitude of yours of late is getting on my nerves. Do you want to sit out here on the swing and talk it out? We’ve done that all our lives, and unless we’ve been lying to one another, it always seemed to help. Why, all of a sudden, don’t you want to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you? By the way, before I forget, it’s my turn to take Jon home with me this week.”

Nick walked over to the swing, noticed the patches of mildew, and perched on the very end. Patty leaned against the porch wall.

“They called me early this morning to tell me I have to have the other hip done, and the sooner the better. There goes my career. I thought I could handle it but… I’m not handling it. I have to be up front with all my sponsors, and the sooner the better on that, too. I’m washed up, Patty. Sophie isn’t going to want some has-been like me. That’s what’s bothering me more than the endorsements and my career.”

“Damn, you are one dumb sorry jerk, Nick Mancuso. Right this minute, I’m ashamed to even be talking to you. If you think even for a nanosecond that Sophie would feel that way, you’re even more stupid than I thought. Don’t say another word to me, Nick Mancuso.”

“So you’re telling me this is a guy thing?” Hope was in his voice, but Patty was heartless.

“I can’t waste my time on stupid people like you. Now get off your ass and help me out here or else go home and I’ll call a cab when I’m ready to leave. Don’t you dare talk to me, Nick. I can’t carry on a conversation with someone so stupid.”

“ All rrriiight . I get it. Look, see, I’m happy as a clam,” Nick said, stretching his mouth out as far as it would go with his fingers.

“I’m sorry about your news. It’s going to be whatever you make it to be, Nick. There are a million things you can do with your life. You’re financially sound, and have your whole life ahead of you. Make it count. Do not whine anymore to me. We came here to do a job, so let’s get to it.”

Nick laughed. Patty could always shake him loose. He followed her into the house and gasped as loud as Patty did when they entered the foyer.

“Oh my God!” they both said in unison.

KALA AULANI SLAPPED THE REPORTS SHE’D JUST READ DOWN ON her cluttered desk. She looked at the messy work space and wondered how it had gotten that way. She was retired, for God’s sake. She felt like she was driving on a superhighway and boxed in by four eighteen-wheelers. She massaged her temples, hoping to ward off a headache she knew would sprout any minute. The urge to bang her head on the cluttered desk was so strong, Kala gave the cracked-leather chair she was sitting in a push. She slid backward.

She’d always been good at analyzing things, and people told her she had a keen analytical mind. Not that she was patting herself on the back. But, if that assessment was true, why couldn’t she figure out this mess that was in front of her?

Ryan Spenser had been the surprise of a lifetime. A good one. She had never been one to judge a person quickly, and it had taken years to form the negative opinion she had in regard to Spenser. But just within the last few hours, she’d seen the real Ryan Spenser. A man whose ass was on the line. A man who no longer cared about his reputation and only wanted to help. All he wanted now was a life of his own choosing. And to help in whatever way he could. He was a strong ally. With the two of them on the same side, surely they could bring this whole sorry mess to a resolution.

He had guts-she had to give him that. For him to throw away his career, flip his father the bird, and stand tall with her was something she had never imagined he could or would do.

Kala pushed her chair forward, closer to the desk, the urge to bang her head gone. So was the throbbing in her temples. She picked up the report on Audrey Star and glared at it. She put it down and picked up the report on Adam. There wasn’t all that much in Adam’s report. Adam was a successful investment banker with the potential to move up the ladder. He was solvent, owned his own home and high-end car. Dressed well, had various relationships, none lasting longer than three or four months. Took a vacation twice a year. Nothing exciting there. He had a more than decent portfolio, was considered a good tipper. Kala yawned as she flipped the pages, hoping to find something that would leap out at her, but nothing did. Everything she was reading, she’d read in the report on his wife.