Justine Davis - Operation Reunion

“No,” Quinn said. “I expect you to do your homework and then decide if you believe us.”

That surprised him enough to make him follow the man’s lead. And if he wanted to be out of earshot of Kayla, it could mean he wanted to hear the other side of the story.

“That note she got today…” Quinn began as they neared a stand of cedar trees along one edge of the park.

“Don’t bother. I know exactly what it said. ‘I didn’t do it. I love you. I’m sorry. Forget about me.’ Even as he keeps sending them so there’s no hope she ever could.”

Quinn stopped walking and turned to look at him.

“I know that sounds harsh,” Dane said, “given what she’s been through.”

“Crimes like that have a far-reaching ripple effect,” Quinn said. “They touch many more lives than just the immediate family.”

The rather detached yet undeniably true observation made Dane take a second look at the man. He was as tall as he himself, and while Dane biked and ran to keep in shape, he doubted he was as strong as this guy looked. He’d been thinking of adding some weights to his regimen, and just looking at the arms on this guy was enough to convince him.

“Look, I know she loved Chad, but he was…”

“Spoiled and manipulative?”

Dane’s mouth tightened. “Yes. Chad never once had to suffer the consequences of his actions in his entire life.”

“His parents protected him?”

Dane nodded. “He was the firstborn, and he was spoiled rotten. Until Kayla came along. He was jealous at first, but she adored him so much he finally decided he liked it. She would do anything for him, and he wasn’t above using that.”

“You didn’t know them back then.”

He didn’t sound particularly accusatory, but Dane was raw enough that he answered a bit sharply.

“Their father told me the first part. The last part I saw for myself. Chad used Kayla from the day he realized she was smarter than he was. I don’t know how many school papers he conned her into writing for him, even though she was two years younger. Or how many times he convinced her to lie for him, cover for him, with their parents. A couple of times she even took the blame for something he did when he was skating too close to the edge with their father.”

“How long did that go on?”

“Until I was able to convince her she wasn’t doing him any favors.”

Again Quinn studied him for a moment. “You’ve always had her best interests at heart.”

It didn’t seem to be a question, but it reminded Dane he should be worrying about those best interests now. “Who are you? And what’s all this crap about helping Kayla find Chad?”

“It’s what we do.”

“Find missing persons? You some kind of private investigator? Because she’s been there, and she got taken. I proved that and convinced her to give up on them,” he ended with a pointed glare at Quinn.

He didn’t mention the large insurance policy their parents had had, with Kayla and Chad as sole beneficiaries. It wasn’t a huge fortune, but it was enough to tempt unscrupulous types. Hayley Cole seemed innocent enough, but there was an edge about this man that made him wonder. He just hoped Kayla hadn’t been foolish enough to say anything about the money. He didn’t think she would; she might be foolishly obsessed, but she was far from a fool, and she’d learned her lesson after that P.I. ripped her off.

Of course, he also didn’t know how much of that money was left after ten years of pouring it into her endless search.

“No, we’re not private investigators,” Quinn said. “We don’t work for just anybody. Only people we believe in.”

“And you do it for free? Right.” He’d slipped from skepticism into outright sarcasm, but Dane didn’t care. He might be through with Kayla, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care at all; he couldn’t turn it off like a faucet.

“That’s why we’re very particular about what we take on.” The man’s mouth quirked wryly. “Unless it’s somebody Cutter brings to us.”

Dane blinked. “The dog?”

Quinn sighed. “It’s a long story. But the bottom line is, he’s better than a lie detector.”

The whimsy of that, coming from a man like Quinn Fox-worth, almost made Dane smile. But his own reaction made him even more wary; he knew predators often used animals to lull their targets into trusting them. They didn’t seem the type, but did the type ever really seem like the type? He shook his head before his thoughts got even more muddled.

“I think your canine lie detector misfired on this one,” he said.

“Kayla mentioned you and Chad didn’t get along. Were there other reasons?”

Dane’s jaw tightened. “Nothing that has anything to do with this. Why should I believe anything you say?”

Quinn looked at him thoughtfully. He pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “I’m not going to give you answers you’ll question. Find your own answers. Do that homework.”

“You can count on it,” Dane said, letting more than a hint of warning into his voice. “And you stay away from Kayla until I do.”

Dane leaned back in his chair, staring at the computer monitor, tapping his pen on the note pad at his side. The top page was full of scribbled notes; his search had been easier than he’d expected. And quicker. It had only taken him a couple of hours to become convinced.

He’d ignored most of the stuff on the website for the Fox-worth Foundation. Anybody, as he knew better than most, could put together a website and put anything they wanted on it. It was a sad fact that if it looked genuine enough, far too many people took it at face value. The Foxworth site gave away very little information, however, as if anybody who went looking for it had to already know what they did.

But he’d noted the areas across the country that had contact numbers for them and then called local authorities in those places. Many had never heard of the foundation and some had heard of them but not had any contact with them, but a few had dealt with them directly, and it was those he concentrated on.

The results were impressive, to say the least. More than one cop or D.A. he spoke to admitted they’d been wary at first, or even irritated that Foxworth was treading their turf, but because most of the cases were cold anyway, they’d decided to let it play out, figuring the amateurs wouldn’t be able to do much anyway.

“Boy, were we wrong,” one detective told him. “They wrapped up a rape and murder case we’d had to move on from years ago. And they didn’t care about taking credit for it either, which smoothed some ruffled feathers around here.”

And that seemed to be the theme from the official side. And there were enough stories like that to make him begin to believe the Foxworth Foundation might be for real. So he’d gone on to track down stories about those cases and then find some of the people involved, the people who had turned to Foxworth for help.

The stories there were even more impressive, and the praise imparted was heartfelt and moving. Not only for the success rate, but for the kind of things they took on. From reuniting long separated family members to helping a troubled teenager find the right path, from giving a lost soul a new lease on life to giving a grieving family a reason they could bear for someone’s suicide.

And then there was the stolen locket. It was the only memento an adopted child had had of her real mother, and it seemed Foxworth had set upon finding that as wholeheartedly as they had what some would consider more important cases.

He shook his head and sat upright. What he should be focusing on, he told himself, was the fact that on more than one occasion, Foxworth had been instrumental in proving the innocence of people suspected of crimes. Nothing quite as grim as Kayla’s parents’ murders, but still….