The Truth About Jane Doe

“You seem to feel sure the Townsends will agree to this.”

“There are two things the Townsends understand—greed and power. But when it comes to a choice, greed will win every time.”

He couldn’t argue that point, but he had to remind her. “You could be the big loser in all this.”

“Just knowing one way or the other will be a big victory for me. And I wouldn’t consider that a loss.”

There was great determination and confidence in her voice, but still he felt a need to warn her. “I strongly advise you to get an attorney.”

A look of implacable resolve lit her eyes. “There are a lot of things I’m not sure of in this world, but of this decision I am very sure. I don’t need a lawyer to fill my head with irrelevant nonsense.” She took another step closer to him, so close he could see the fire in her eyes. “Let me make this easy for you and the Townsends. If one of the tests turns out to be positive, I’ll relinquish any hold the Townsends fear I might have on their estate. Plus, whether the tests are positive or negative, I will release my claim on the land and the money.”

He whistled between his teeth. “That’s a powerful offer.”

“Yes,” she agreed, and turned toward the door. “When you have an answer, let me know,” she tossed over her shoulder. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned back, green eyes twinkling. “Oh, Mr. Sloan, Jr., even though the Watsons are country people, we do have a telephone. So if you plan on coming out to the house, call first and I’ll open the gate. A bullet hole could really ruin a suit like that.” With those words she disappeared out the door.

A grin spread across Matthew’s face. Through all this, she could maintain a sense of humor. He admired that and he couldn’t help but admire her.

Unable to stop himself, he followed her to the front door. Through the window, he saw a four-wheel-drive truck pulling a long cattle trailer. Three horses occupied the trailer, and two dogs rested in the bed of the truck. Pete Watson sat on the passenger side of the cab, puffing on a pipe. It was actually a cab and a half, and he could see someone sitting in the back. Harry.

As he watched, C.J. climbed into the driver’s side and the truck roared to life. Within seconds it pulled out into the main street of Coberville, the trailer clanging behind it.

“SO HOW’D IT GO?” Pete asked.

“It’s going to take the city lawyer a while to recover from the shock. He tried to hide it, but I could see he thought I was crazy for throwing away all that money.”

“I hope you get the answers you’re looking for, girl,” Pete said, and added tobacco to his pipe.

“Oh, I’ll get something,” she said. “The Townsends will be huddled over this for days, but in the end they won’t be able to resist the offer. Then I’ll know if I’m a Townsend or not.”

“Don’t like this,” Harry muttered from the backseat.

In the rearview mirror, she caught Harry’s bearded face. To some he was a scary figure, but to her he was a lovable old man and she adored him.

“‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’” Harry quoted.

C.J. appreciated his meaning in choosing this Shakespearean quote, but she had to ask, “Don’t you want me to know the truth?”

“Truth.” He snorted. “‘Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.’”

C.J.’s smooth brow furrowed into a frown. Mad? Would the truth make her mad? Mad as in angry? Or deranged? What had Harry meant? She knew better than to ask.

Most of the time Harry quoted Shakespeare, but he often changed the words to suit his purpose. Few people remembered he had studied literature at the University of Texas in his younger days. He wasn’t as ignorant as the majority of Coberville residents believed.

She shifted into third and anticipation ran through her. The Townsends had to accept her offer. The deal was too good to refuse, and she was counting on Matthew Sloan, Jr., to tell them that. While she’d been talking to him, she got the distinct impression that he was concerned for her welfare. That was ludicrous. Why would he care about her? He was the Townsends’ lawyer. But she could still feel those dark eyes touching her skin, warming her in a way that had nothing to do with business. Careful, she warned herself. She had only one goal, and that precluded an emotional involvement with anyone, especially the Townsends’ new lawyer.

MATTHEW WAS SO ABSORBED in watching the truck and trailer he didn’t hear Miss Emma come in until she asked, “Wasn’t that the Doe girl?”

He swung around and tried not to appear guilty at being caught staring. “Yes, it was.”

She plopped her big purse on the desk. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told that girl not to park that truck and trailer in front of this office. It takes up five or six parking spaces. Young folk never listen.”

“She was only here a minute, and there’s no traffic or clients at this hour.”

“Still, it’s the principle of the thing,” she complained, and sank into her chair. “I guess she was here about the Townsend case.”

“Yes, we discussed a few things,” he replied, not wanting to get into particulars with Miss Emma.

He started to ask about Herman, but decided to let that subject rest. He headed back to his office, then stopped. The last thing he wanted to do was gossip, but his curiosity about C. J. Doe overrode his aversion to cheap talk.

“Exactly what does C. J. Doe do for a living?”

Miss Emma glanced up from going through the mail and gazed at him through those ridiculous glasses. “She works cattle with the Watsons.”

“Works cattle?” he echoed blankly.

“Have you been gone from here so long you’ve forgotten what that is?”

“No,” he assured her in a crisp voice. “It’s just hard for me to imagine such a…small woman herding, branding and vaccinating cattle.”

“They say she’s the best,” Miss Emma said, ripping open a letter. “She can ride and rope better than anyone around here. Has a way with animals, too. The Watsons are getting older and C.J. does most of the work now.” She shook her head. “Never understood it. Why would a young girl give up a good job at the bank to work with those two old fools?”

“She worked at the bank?”

“Right after she graduated from college.”

“She went to college?”

Miss Emma frowned at his startled face. “What did you think? That they kept her locked up on the ranch?”

“No, I just didn’t see her as someone who could afford something like that.”

The sharp letter opener sliced through another letter. “An anonymous benefactor, that’s what it was.”

“Someone paid for her college education?” He felt like Herman repeating everything she said, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Sure did. An envelope of cash started coming to this office every month, and your dad deposited it in her account.”

“Unbelievable,” he said, then his eyes narrowed. “Did Dad know who was sending the money?”

“I don’t think so. The first envelope had a letter of instruction about how the money was to be used. C.J. asked all kinds of questions, but she never found out anything. She even staked out the office. Finally, to put an end to her snooping, a large sum was deposited in your dad’s name for her education. Money that couldn’t be traced, ’cause believe me, C.J. tried.”

Matthew tried to assimilate this bit of information. It was so unreal he had to find out more. “Why did she leave the job at the bank?”

Miss Emma shrugged. “Don’t know. I guess she didn’t like getting the cold shoulder from people who worked there. Your dad tried to talk her into staying there.”

“Seems she and my dad were quite close.”

“Your father helped a lot of people. C. J. Doe was just one of them.”

That didn’t explain anything, but he sensed Miss Emma was on the defensive, so he let it drop—for now.

Back at his desk his head was spinning. The money—that was how his dad had become involved with C. J. Doe. The pieces were starting to fall into place. He’d bet his dad had figured out who was sending the cash and confronted him or her. He’d also bet that person was one of C.J.’s parents, a parent who didn’t want to be known to C.J. or anyone else. So his dad had kept that person’s secret, not even telling his own wife. Who was it? And why so much mystery?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it now. He still had to deal with C.J.’s bombshell. “Miss Emma, call Rob Townsend and ask if I can see him this morning,” he said through the open door.

Acceding to C.J.’s request went against his every legal instinct, but then, nothing about this case was going according to form. He felt she was guaranteed to be the loser and would definitely get hurt in the process. But that was no concern of his. So why did he feel it was?

CHAPTER FIVE

TODAY’S DRIVE WAS THE SAME as yesterday’s, except that Matthew traveled about five miles farther down the road to the Cober ranch. Beyond the stone entrance were seven huge live oaks, hence the name Seven Trees. A towering Southern mansion with enormous white pillars stood proudly facing the trees, with a long drive circling in front of it. The scene was like something out of Gone with the Wind and it created the same impression of ante-bellum days. Bygone days.

The house had been built in the 1800s by Jeremiah Cober. His descendents had occupied it and Coberville ever since, a powerful family that time had not diminished.

Stopping on the circular drive, he got out and walked up the wide steps to the double front doors. He banged the brass door knocker and waited. A short man in a dark suit, white shirt and bow tie opened the door. The butler.

“Matthew Sloan to see Rob Townsend,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” the butler replied, stepping aside. “Come this way.”

In the entrance, Matthew stared at the magnificent dual spiraling staircases, expecting Scarlett O’Hara to gracefully descend one of them any minute. The place was breathtaking, from the marble floors to the velvet drapes and antique furniture.

He followed the man into a large room that resembled a library. “He will be right with you, sir,” the butler said, and closed the door.

“Thank you.” He scanned the room. Bookshelves covered two walls, and an antique desk and chair stood slightly to the right. Velvet chairs and sofa were grouped around a stone fireplace. On the opposite side of the room portraits of Cobers took pride of place, from Jeremiah Cober to William Cober and his two surviving children, Martha and Victoria, as well as his son, Will, who had died in early adulthood.

“Matthew,” Rob said, coming through the door dressed in casual slacks and a knit shirt. “Dad and Aunt Martha will be along in a minute. I would like the whole family to be in on this meeting. But my sister Joyce and her husband, Thurman Brown, the congressman, live in Austin and they’re busy with some political event. Clare, my other sister, also lives there. She’s the editor of one of our newspapers. I’ll have to fill them in later. Have a seat.” He gestured toward a velvet chair.

Before Matthew could move, the door opened and an elderly lady came in. Martha Cober was tall and big-boned, with cropped gray hair and a rather plain face. Matthew couldn’t help but be reminded of the difference between the two sisters. Victoria Cober had been a beauty, small and regal with flowing white hair.

“Matthew, I’m sure you remember my aunt Martha.” Rob made the introduction just as a nurse brought a man in a wheelchair into the room. John Townsend. With white hair and drawn features, he was a shadow of the forceful senator Matthew remembered. “And, of course, you know Dad.”

Matthew shook hands with the older man and was amazed at his strength. As Matthew glanced up, he noticed the nurse staring at him. Tall with bleached-blond hair and heavy makeup, she looked vaguely familiar.

“That will be all, Stephanie,” Rob said before Matthew could make the connection. She immediately left the room.

“Okay, Matthew, tell us the good news,” Rob said with a slight smile. “I’m sure the Doe girl has agreed to take the money.”

Matthew had barely opened his mouth to speak when another woman strolled into the room in worn jeans and an oversize silk blouse. The clothes were water stained. She held a white poodle under one arm, while a second hovered at her feet. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, emphasizing her honey-colored eyes and austere features.

Francine Gordon Townsend wasn’t the raving beauty everyone had expected Rob to marry. But years ago, when John Townsend’s political clout had began to wane, Rob had married the only daughter of a powerful political figure in Texas, forging the two families together and solidifying John Townsend’s bid for reelection. Politics did indeed make for strange bedfellows, Matthew thought.

“Darling.” Francine’s gaze settled on Rob. “You weren’t going to have this meeting without me, were you?”

“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” Rob replied, and walked over to her, giving her a withering glance. “What have you been doing? You look like hell.”

An expression of pain crossed Francine’s face. “I was grooming the dogs,” she answered tightly.

“You pay people to do that,” Rob snapped. “Why do you insist on doing menial chores?”

Francine ignored her husband’s words and crossed to Matthew. She introduced herself and shook his hand. As Matthew gazed into her eyes, he saw pain. For years she had competed for Rob’s attention, and Matthew could see from the defeated look in her eyes that she was wondering if the struggle had been worth it.

She patted the poodle’s head and said, “So you’re the New York attorney. I heard you’re very good in a courtroom.”

“Thank you,” Matthew said, not sure how to respond to her. He had a feeling Francine Townsend was close to the edge.

“Are you going to make the Townsends’ little problem go away?” She leaned in close and whispered, “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Why would Mother Townsend be so generous to C. J. Doe? Could it be she was trying to bail her son’s ass out of a jam one more time?”

Francine knew how to be a proper lady. Having attended the best schools, she could walk, talk and choose which fork to use at the dinner table with the best of them. But evidently she had learned some language in less reputable places, too.

“Rob, your wife’s making a fool of herself,” Martha said.

Francine swung around and fixed her eyes on the older woman. “Well, Aunt Martha, dear, if anyone can recognize a fool, you can. Look at the way you fawn over your sister’s husband.”

“That’s enough, Francine,” Rob ordered.

Francine turned to face him. “I want my children home for the summer, Rob.”

“The kids are staying in boarding school,” he replied.

“You’re making a sissy out of Robbie, and our daughter’s becoming so wild no one can do anything with her. They need discipline, not a free rein like you give them.”

“Rob,” she pleaded, a note of desperation entering her voice.

Rob ignored her plea. “Go get cleaned up, for God’s sake. You look like the hired help.”

At Rob’s criticism Matthew saw a flash of unmistakable pain on her face again, but she quickly masked it. “I want my children home,” she stated angrily.

“They’re staying in school.”

“We’ll see about that,” she replied, and turned toward the door. “Nice to have met you, Mr. Sloan,” she called over her shoulder.

As the door closed, Rob apologized. “My wife’s been having a rough time since the kids went away to school.”

“Ha,” Martha retorted.

Rob shot her a quelling glance and then focused his attention on Matthew. “Now, Matthew, I hope you have some good news for us.”

Matthew shoved his hands into his pockets. How could Rob treat his wife so heartlessly? Couldn’t he see she was hurting? Dealing with the Townsends was going to be harder than he’d imagined—for more than one reason. He brought his thoughts back to Rob’s question. “No, I don’t.”

Rob’s eyes narrowed. “Why not? Surely she didn’t turn down a million dollars.”

“Afraid so.”

Rob walked around the desk and sat down, a patently false smile on his face. “Damn, she’s smarter than I figured.”

Matthew frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She’s holding out for more money,” Rob replied. “Okay, we can play that game. Offer her two million.”

Matthew held up his hands. “Wait a minute. She’s not after more money.”

Rob spared him a dark glance. “Then what the hell does she want from us?”

“She’s made a counteroffer.”

“A counteroffer,” Rob said with a laugh. “What does she have to offer us?”

Matthew took in the skeptical faces. Slowly he answered, “She will release her claim on both the land and the money on one condition.”

A tense pause followed his words, and Matthew could almost hear the frantic heartbeats in the room. They had a right to be anxious, he thought. C. J. Doe was about to rock their world.

Finally Rob asked, “And what would this condition be?”

Matthew glanced from Rob to John Townsend. In his best courtroom voice he said, “That you and your father take paternity tests.”

Martha gasped and Rob brought his fist down hard on the desk. “No way, Matthew. No way in hell is that ever going to happen.”

“She has agreed that if it does, if you both get tested, she will relinquish any claim on the Townsend estate.”

“She’s thought of everything, hasn’t she?” Rob muttered. “But we refuse to give credence to those stupid rumors she obviously believes.”

“Well, it’s the only way you’re going to get the land back without going to court.”

“Everybody has a price. Offer her three million.”

Matthew gave a frustrated sigh. “Money means nothing to her, I’ve told you that. You can offer her ten million and she’d still turn it down. She only wants to know who she is.”

“She is not a Townsend.” Fists clenched, Rob got angrily to his feet. “She—”

“The girl must be crazy,” Martha broke in. “John is in no condition to go through such stress. He’s recovering from a stroke.” She sat next to John Townsend’s wheelchair and rubbed his arm affectionately.

Matthew shrugged. “It’s a simple blood test. As your lawyer I have to say it’s a good offer.”

“You’re not suggesting we do this?” Rob bellowed.

“No, it’s your decision, but it’s the only offer you’ll get from C. J. Doe.”

Rob tapped long fingers against the desk for a moment, then said, “Offer her three million. Money has a way of changing people’s minds.”

“No!” John Townsend shouted.

Everyone looked at him. The single word was the first he’d spoken during the whole meeting. His blue eyes blazed with a strength of old, and he looked like the powerful John Townsend who could melt a man in his boots with just one word. Even though his legs were weak, Matthew had a feeling John’s mind was as sharp as ever.

“Dad, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying we’re going to take the blood tests.”

“What?”

“Use your head, son. What’s the use of throwing money away when we can end this with a simple test?”

“But, Dad…”

Matthew could see the doubt in Rob’s eyes and there was doubt in John’s eyes, too, but unlike his son he was willing to gamble that C. J. wasn’t a Townsend.

John gazed up at Matthew, his expression fierce. “Let’s get one thing straight, Sloan,” he said. “I want this done discreetly. I don’t want any publicity—in the newspapers, TV or magazines—anywhere.”

“I don’t think she’ll have a problem with that.”

“And even if one of the tests is positive, she will not expect anything from this family.”

Matthew watched the fire in the man’s eyes and had to ask. “If she is a Townsend, can you turn your back on her?”

“In a heartbeat, sir,” he said without hesitation.

Matthew got a glimpse of the ruthlessness that had made this man so powerful. “I see. Okay. I’ll set everything up.”

Martha clutched John’s arm. “You don’t have to do this.”

He shrugged off her hand. “Shut up, Martha.”

For a moment Matthew studied the three people in the room. They had to be the unhappiest people he’d ever met. Just as the old saying had it, money and power really didn’t guarantee happiness. But he wondered why they didn’t seem to have an ounce of feeling for another human being. Victoria Townsend had felt differently. Why? Why was she so generous to C.J.? But it wasn’t his job to solve the mystery between the Townsends and C. J. Doe, he told himself. He was here only to do this job as a courtesy to his dad, then he’d go back to New York and his own world. But the more involved he became with the case, the more it intrigued him.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I’ll get back to you on the place and time.”

“You do that,” Rob said with a curt nod.

Matthew hurried from the room. When he reached the hall, he took a deep breath, trying to dispel the stifling oppressive feeling he’d felt in the Townsend family’s presence.

“DAD, WHY ARE YOU DOING this?” Rob asked a moment after the door closed on Matthew.

“Son, haven’t I taught you anything? When things get rough, play into your opponent’s hand, but always keep an ace up your sleeve.”

Rob shook his head. “What the hell does that mean?”

A wicked smile curved John’s thin lips. “It means we take the tests, but we make sure they come out negative.”

Realization dawned, and a smile spread across Rob’s face.

“Being in high places pays off. You meet people who can help you out in a situation like this,” John told him, a gleam in his old eyes.

Rob watched his father. “Then you’re not sure she’s not yours?”

“Just like you’re not sure she’s not yours.”

The silence grew heavy with tension. John cleared his throat. “You take your love of women after me, son, but we’re not going to let it cost you this election. Understand?”

“Understand.” Rob smiled a secret smile.

John nodded his approval, but he wasn’t through.

“Don’t you think it’s time you got your kids home?”

The smile vanished from Rob’s face. “Don’t start,” he warned.

“Your wife’s falling apart.”

“She’ll adjust.”

“The kids have been gone since the fall. She’s not adjusting. She dresses shabbily, uses foul language and spends all her time with those dogs. She’s not the lady you married.”

“Stay out of this,” Rob warned again. “This doesn’t concern you. Besides, you sent me away to school.”

“It didn’t help your rebellious streak, did it?”

“No,” Rob admitted.

“Then learn from my mistakes, son,” he said. “It took Francine so long to get pregnant. Those kids are extra-special to her.”

“That’s the damn problem,” Rob snapped. “She spoils them. No, they’re staying in school.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to win this election?” he asked in a low voice.

“Of course I do!”

“Then use your damn head. We need her and her family’s support. The minute the semester is over, get the kids home and spend some time together. Go places—and make sure there’s a photographer along. Plaster those pictures all over Texas. Let everyone see y’all as a loving family.”

At Rob’s hesitation John pointed a shaking finger at him. “If you lose this election, I’ll never forgive you.”

Rob gritted his teeth, then said, “I’ve never done anything to please the great John Townsend. But I’ll win the election and I’ll win in a big way.”

“You’d better,” John told him. “And you’d better get your kids home first.”

Rob inhaled audibly. “I’ll give it some thought,” he promised.

“Good,” John replied, victory in his tone. “Now hand me the phone. It’s time to get rid of the Doe problem.” He laughed harshly. “Never thought the little idiot would make it so easy.”

MATTHEW WALKED QUICKLY down the hall to the foyer and the front door, eager to get back to the office. With any luck this case could be wrapped up in a couple of weeks and he could resume his life in New York. He worried about his mom, though. He couldn’t leave until she was better.