Mariah Stewart - Cry Mercy

“If you're trying to connect me to all this somehow, I can give you the names of fifty people who will tell you I was at my yacht club on Saturday. Race during the day, dinner dance at night. This other girl disappeared when? Tuesday?”

When Emme nodded, he continued. “On Tuesday morning I took a small group of my colleagues on a fishing trip. We met at five in the morning and returned to the marina at four in the afternoon. We came back here and cooked up our catch. Several in the group stayed the night. The newspapers covered both events, by the way-the thing at the club and the fishing expedition.”

He got up and left the room and returned within minutes with several newspapers under his arm. Wordlessly, he handed them to Emme and sat back while she skimmed the articles. When she was finished, she passed the papers off to Nick.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

“I just thought I'd save you a little bit of time,” he told her, “since I know you'd want to be seeing those photos for yourself.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Look, I don't know what happened to these kids. I won't say I don't care, because that wouldn't be completely true. You never like to hear stories like this. But I don't know them, I've never met them, never heard of them until just now, and at the risk of sounding cold, I don't need to meet them. They were the result of some biochemical reaction years ago, and despite whatever connection they might feel, I have to admit to feeling none whatsoever.”

“I understand, sir. But I have to ask you to think back over the past few months. Are you sure no one contacted you, no one ever called alluding to being related to you in some way?”

“I'm positive. Believe me, I'd have remembered something like that. But there's been nothing. The first I've heard of any of this was when you showed up here today.” He stood and pushed his chair back. “Now, if there's anything else I can do for you, I'm due on the golf course in about twenty minutes.”

Clearly dismissed, Emme and Nick both stood.

“Should you hear from any of these kids…”

“You're the first person I'll call.” He ushered them toward the door. “Actually, you'll be the only person I'll call.”

One of the Scotties appeared out of nowhere and accompanied them to the front of the house. When they reached the door, Emme reached in her bag and pulled out one of her new business cards. She held it out to Gardner and he took it, and without looking at it, dropped it on a long table that held a crowd of photographs.

“Your children?” Emme noticed that most of the pictures were of a boy and a girl.

He nodded. “My daughter. My son.”

“Your daughter's lovely,” she said, leaning closer for a better look. “Look, Nick, how pretty the congressman's daughter is.”

“Yes, she is.” He agreed. “Very pretty.”

They stepped out onto the shaded porch and down the steps to the sand-and-shell drive, but Gardner did not follow. He stood on the top step and watched them, looking like a man who knew that something was about to change his life, something he wasn't going to like, and he was powerless to stop it.

He heard her on the steps and in the hall, knew she was now standing in his doorway, but didn't bother to turn around.

“What?” he asked.

“You have a problem.”

“Yeah? What?”

She crossed the carpeted floor to his desk and slid something under his nose. He glanced sideways, studying it, then raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Where did that come from?”

“It was on the table in the front hall.” Hand on hip, she stood as if waiting for his response. When one didn't come, she poked him in the back and said, “You have a problem. What are you going to do about it?”

“ I have a problem?” He snorted and spun around in his chair. “ We have a problem. This is just as much me as it is you.”

“You have got to be kidding.” She scoffed and flipped her hair over her shoulders. “I haven't raised a finger…”

“Who are you kidding? This was all your idea.” He stood and faced her down. “Who found the folder in his desk drawer? Who did all the research on this donor sibling stuff? Whose idea was it to go online and see if anyone was looking for Donor 1735?”

“Whose idea was it to eliminate the competition?” She lowered her voice. “What did you do with them, J.J.? Before you killed them, I mean? Did you play with them? Did you rape them?”

He turned away from her, feeling the hot flush rise up above his collar.

“You did, didn't you?” She smirked. “You had sex with your own half sisters. You're a disgusting, perverted-”

“They're not our half sisters.” He grabbed her by the arm and squeezed it. “Do not dignify what they are.”

“Did you tell them that while you were putting it to them?” She was still smirking, even though he knew his grip must be hurting her arm. “Did you make it clear to each of them that you were not fucking your sister?”

“Don't make me hurt you,” he said. “And don't pretend that your hands are clean in all this. We have a legacy to protect, a name that used to mean something, and don't ever forget that. Besides, don't pretend for one minute that you'd be happy about having to share all geat-grandmother Gardner's china and silver with all your half sisters.”

She yanked her arm away and took a step back. “So what do we do now?”

He shrugged and sat back in his chair at his desk. “You tell me. You're the idea person. I'm just the grunt who carries out your every whim.”

“Stop it, JJ.” She exhaled and looked almost defeated for a moment.

He knew better. His sister-his real sister-was never to be counted out.

“The investigator has been here. She talked to Dad.”

“How do you know he talked to her?”

“I found that card on the table when he was leaving just now. When I asked him about it, he said she was someone who was looking for a missing person that she thought he might know something about.” She sat on the edge of his bed. “He said it was a conversation for another time because he was in a hurry and didn't want to miss his tee time.”

“You really think he's going to explain how he got his rocks off years ago for a little cash, and how all those chickens scattered up and down the east coast are coming home to roost?”

“I didn't press him. The important thing is that she knows that Dad is Donor 1735. How do you suppose she figured it out?”

“Easy. One of the donor-sibling boys gave Belle some of their DNA.” With a few strokes on the keyboard, he pulled up Emme's email asking who the DNA donor was. “Read it and weep.”

He turned the screen in her direction.

“Swell,” she muttered after she'd finished reading. “That's just swell. Who do you think it was?”

“My first guess would have been Henry.”

“Well, then, let's just email Henry and ask him… oh, right.” She snapped her fingers. “We can't. You killed him. I guess we'll have to go to plan B.”

“Very funny. He and Lori were going to meet Emme Caldwell and Belle's uncle. They would have told them everything they knew.”

“Who are you kidding?” The smirk was back. “You have no idea what they knew or what they didn't know. You just wanted to get your hands on Lori.”

She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “Was she worth it? Was she that good?”

“Actually,” he whispered back, “she was.”

She rolled her eyes. “So how many are left?”

“The twins and Hayley.” He held up three fingers, then he added two more, and grinned. “And Ava and Justin.”

“Leave Hayley alone.” Her eyes went hard.