Maureen Child - The Highest Bidder

“It does,” he said, glancing briefly at the stack of mail and the one oversize manila envelope beneath all the others. Then he stood up to walk around to the front of his desk. Leaning back onto it, he continued, “It’s not like Dalton to be so circumspect. I fully expected him to at least question the authenticity of the statue. Do something to take the shine off the good press we’ve been getting lately.”

“Exactly,” Ann said. “He’s up to something. I just know it.”

“Then all we can do is wait for him to make a move,” he said, not liking that one bit. He hated waiting. Hated feeling as if his hands were tied. And he really hated not being able to ease Charlie’s mind about these threats that were still hanging over her head.

Just a day away from the blackmailer’s weekend deadline, Vance was no closer to discovering the man’s identity. Though the sense of familiarity had been bugging him for days.

Who the hell was that guy?

“I’m not very patient, I’m afraid,” Ann said, with a quick glance at her wristwatch.

“No, neither am I. But I don’t think we have a choice this time.”

“Which only makes it harder,” Ann said, giving him a rueful smile. “Thanks for listening to me, Vance. I’ve got to run to make my meeting with the heads of publicity. They want to show me what they’ve come up with so far on the Gold Heart auction.”

“Already?” Impressive, he thought, since the auction wouldn’t be held for months yet.

“This is the biggest auction we’ve— anyone’s —ever done,” Ann said simply. “We’re going to see to it that this is the most talked about event of the year.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, then turned back to his desk when she’d gone.

There was so much going on at Waverly’s these days, there was a damn near tangible thread of anxiety slipping through the whole house. And everyone was feeling it.

He sat down and picked through the mail, setting most of it aside for Charlie to deal with when she got back from lunch. But the thick manila envelope got his attention. There was his name in big block letters. No return address. Heavy. Vance balanced it on his palms and finally flipped it over, undid the clasp and slid the contents onto his desk.

There was no note.

Only pictures.

Dozens of them. Full color and black-and-white and they were all of the same man. Vance tensed as he flipped through them quickly. Every photo showed the same man wearing a different disguise. There was enough about the shape of his head, the way he stood, the way he squinted into the light, that all seemed familiar, again and again, despite the ways he was trying to hide his real identity. In some, he wore colored contacts, others, those magnifying glasses Vance had seen him in. In every photo, he wore wigs, sometimes a scar, sometimes an eye patch, always something to distract the viewer. But it was always the same man.

Charlie’s blackmailer.

“Who the hell took these?” Vance muttered as he found a shot of the mystery man talking to Charlie outside the Coffee Spot the day of their scheduled meet. Vance had been there. He hadn’t seen anyone pointing a camera, although, he’d been too busy focusing on Charlie to have noticed. He continued looking through the photos until he came to the last one.

Then he dropped the others and studied the photo of a good-looking man with wide, dark blue eyes. He tapped the photo with his finger as a flare of satisfaction shot through him.

“Dammit,” he whispered in satisfaction, “I knew you were familiar.” He knew this guy. Had known him for years.

Henry Boyle, one of two assistants to Dalton Rothschild, CEO of Rothschild’s auction house. “You son of a bitch. I’ve got you now. And whatever you and Dalton are planning—not going to work.”

He studied that photo for a long minute or two, reveling in the pleasure he felt at the knowledge that he could tell Charlie her problems were over. Now that he knew who was behind all this, he was going to the police. They’d have Henry arrested before end of business.

Then, as he continued to look at the photo, something else dawned on him. Something that he should have guessed. Who the hell else would have known all Charlie’s secrets? Who else would have known what to threaten her with?

“I know those eyes of yours, too, you bastard,” he said to the man in the picture. “I see them every day, in your son.”

Charlie’s blackmailer was Jake’s father.

It wasn’t easy to tell her. And once it was done, all he could do was listen as she poured out her fury.

“How could he do that to me? To his son?” she raged, prowling the confines of his office as if it were a cage she couldn’t escape. “What kind of man treats people like that?”

“A bad one,” Vance offered.

“‘Bad’?” she repeated, staring at him openmouthed. “He’s more than bad. He’s … evil. Disgusting. Appalling. He was using me to take Waverly’s down!”

“Yeah,” Vance said, “he was.”

If he had needed more proof that Charlie was in no way involved in any of it—which he didn’t—seeing her like this would have convinced him.

“And he’s my son’s father!” She stopped at that and turned wide eyes on Vance.

“What?” he asked, going to her, holding her.

“Jake. Oh, my poor baby. What can I possibly tell him about his father?”

He heard the pain in her voice and speaking only to that, said, “Tell him you loved him.”

“I thought I did, yes.” Her gaze shot to his. “And what does that say about me? What kind of judge of character am I that I could make a child with a man who could do something so hideous?”

Vance pulled her in tightly to him and closed his eyes as she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on. He didn’t like acknowledging that she had cared for the bastard. That some other man had had a shot with Charlie and then was fool enough to waste it. “It says you have a generous heart. It says you don’t look for the bad in people.”

“And that I’m an idiot. Don’t forget that part,” she muttered, her face buried in his chest.

He laughed a little and cupped her head in his palms, tipping her back so that he could look into her eyes. “You’re the smartest woman I know, Charlie. This isn’t about you. It’s about Henry Boyle and the mistakes he made.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Vance told her, willing her to believe him as his heart broke at the sheen of furious tears in her eyes. “He was stupid enough to walk away from you and your son. He’s the idiot. Never forget that.”

Her lips twisted into a half smile. “You’re being nice to me again.”

“I shouldn’t be?”

“You should be furious. Because of me, Waverly’s might have been ruined.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Could have been,” she argued.

“Could-haves don’t count,” he said with a smile. “Besides, look at it this way. You started this scared to death, but you stood up to him. You fought back and you won.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, “it is.” She laid her head down on his chest again and sighed heavily. “It’s over, isn’t it? Jake’s safe.”

“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly to him as he could. “It’s over. Jake’s safe. And so are you.”

“Thank you.” Her whisper was almost lost, but Vance heard it and whispered a “thanks” of his own to whoever it was who had sent those photos.

A couple of hours later, calls had been made, charges filed and it was all over but for the last act.

“You’re sure you want to be here for this?” Vance kept one arm around Charlie’s shoulders, holding her tight to his side.