The Third Twin

A scream of protest filled her mind, but never made it past her lips. Beneath a thick manila envelope, the briefcase was filled with stacks of what appeared to be hundred-dollar bills. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could make them disappear by thought alone.

What had he done? Dear God, what had he done? Her father didn’t have this kind of money. Only drug dealers or kidnappers had this sort of cash.

Her moan of anguish escaped, shockingly loud in the tense silence of her car.

No wonder he was dead. No wonder someone wanted this case. But where had it come from? Her father wasn’t a drug dealer. He wasn’t a criminal. He worked in the insurance industry.

Money laundering?

Oh, God. She knew nothing about that sort of stuff. Could a criminal launder money through an insurance company? And even if they could, why would her father have this briefcase full of money? He wasn’t a crook, he was her father!

She snapped the case closed and shut her eyes. What was she going to do? Opening her eyes, she stared at the parking lot. What would happen if she simply carried the case over to the large trash can sitting several feet away and left it there? The idea was dangerously tempting.

Except, whoever wanted this case wouldn’t stop looking for her just because she’d thrown it away. No matter where she ran, they’d follow. The money made that a certainty.

There had been an envelope. Maybe the contents of the envelope would tell her what to do, how to get this money back where it belonged. She forced her fingers to reopen the case. Lifting the envelope, she turned it over and stared in horror at the bold printing across the front.

Her eyes burned with the need to cry again, but she’d used up all her tears. Too bad she hadn’t used up the fear, as well. It threatened to consume her at the sight of her name.

She should go to the police right now. It would be best if she didn’t even look inside the envelope. But she knew she would. He had been her father, whatever else he may have been. He had brought this briefcase to her apartment for a reason. She owed him a hearing, even in death.

With a heavy heart, Alexis lifted the unsealed envelope flap. On top was a sheet of lined paper, ripped from some sort of notepad.

Darling Alexis,

If you’re reading this note it means I’m in trouble and never got a chance to explain. Hang on to this briefcase. A woman named Kathy can tell you the rest. I don’t remember her last name, but I’m sure she’ll be in touch.

So typical of her father. He could never remember names or details. Kathy might really be Suzy or Betty or something that wasn’t even remotely close to that.

Don’t let anyone know you have this in your possession. I’m sorry to put this onus on you, but I may not have a choice. I’m not sure about the legality of this money. I trusted the wrong person years ago and a lot of people were hurt as a result. It’s too late to make amends to some of them, including you, but I’m going to try. I’m sorry, Alexis. I know I’ve been a lousy father. I wasn’t the best husband, either. Lois deserved so much more than I could give her.

Alexis wiped at her burning eyes. Whatever else had been wrong with his world, her father truly had loved them both.

Saying I’m sorry really doesn’t cut it, but it’s all I can say. I can’t make the past go away or change the decision that we made. I’m a weak man, Alexis. A stronger, better person would have told you the truth a long time ago.

The note was rambling. He must have been drinking when he’d written it. The penmanship was sloppy, but it was definitely her father’s handwriting.

I’m sorry for that, too, but as it turns out, even I didn’t know the truth until recently. I still don’t, at least not all of it. God, I wish I’d told you this in person! Your mother and I couldn’t have children, Alexis.

What? Her heart began to pound as his words burned away her entire life.

Lois wanted a baby desperately, so we applied to adopt. We were told it might take years. You know how much I loved her. I would have given Lois the moon if it had been possible. I knew it would kill her to wait indefinitely, with no certainty that we’d ever get a baby to call our own. Instead, I knew someone who knew of a doctor that might be willing to bend the rules for us. I’m sorry, Alexis, I knew it would be an illegal adoption, but I didn’t care at the time.

She was adopted? It couldn’t be true. It mustn’t be true. Her whole life had been a lie? She wanted to crumple the damning paper in her hand and throw it away, but he’d looked at her through eyes that were dying and had said he’d wished she’d been his.

The paper shook so badly she could barely hold it still enough to continue reading.

The doctor claimed he knew an unwed girl willing to see her baby go to a good home for enough money to go to college and start over. If we could cover his fee and pay the girl, he was willing to take a chance and help us all. I’d like to believe if we’d known the truth, we wouldn’t have gone through with your adoption, but Lois wanted a baby so badly, I don’t know.

What truth? What had he done?

We didn’t ask any questions. We never met your birth mother. You were only a few hours old when the doctor’s nurse placed you in Lois’s arms. You were such a beautiful, perfect little baby girl. I wish you could have seen Lois’s look of joy. It was worth everything. You may not have been our biological child, but we always thought of you that way, you have to believe me. We loved you, Alexis. I loved you. I know I haven’t been there for you since Lois died. I let my grief consume me instead of thinking about you like I should have. It’s too late to make that up to you now. All I can say is I’m sorry, Alexis.

She wiped at the burning tears that slipped down her cheeks. The car was so hot she was suffocating. She turned on the ignition to let the air conditioner run, wiping at her tears until her vision became less blurred.

It wasn’t entirely his fault. She should have tried harder to get him to seek help. If she’d been a better daughter…but she wasn’t really his daughter. The enormity of that was still hard to accept.

Alexis stared at the money. Once again, fear gripped her. Had her father done something awful in an attempt to make things up to her? She gripped the note, fearing the answer it must contain.

I just learned that the doctor who forged your birth certificate was murdered recently. I did some snooping and learned the awful truth. Your real mother never gave you up for adoption, Alexis. I don’t think she even knew you existed.

How was that possible? This made no sense. She didn’t want to read any more. Her father’s words were tearing her world to shreds. How could he not have told her this?

The doctor had been murdered. Now her father had been murdered. If she wasn’t careful, was she the next in line to be killed?

When I realized what that man had done, I was sick. I think if he hadn’t already been dead I’d have been tempted to murder him myself. How could any man, especially a doctor, have no soul? He pulled you from her body and gave you away with no remorse. It still sickens me to think about it. I’ll carry this horror to my grave. I wonder if God will forgive me for my part in this. I guess I’ll know soon enough. I’ve been lying to you, Alexis, about more than just your birth. I know you thought my drinking was simply grief over Lois’s death. And it did start out that way, but the truth is, I’ve been ill for some time now. I’m dying, Alexis. The cancer is inoperable. I didn’t want you to know. The alcohol helps dull the pain.

Shock blurred the words on the page. She pictured how thin he had grown…and knew the words were true. Why hadn’t he told her? Why had he lied and lied and lied to her?

Grief mingled with anger and guilt. He hadn’t been the best father since her mother…since Lois had died, but what sort of daughter had she been? So angry over his drinking and his refusal to get help, she’d stopped paying much attention to him. For a second her eyes closed in grief and self-recriminations. But she had to finish, to know it all. There’d be time for castigation later.

I’ve been trying to make things right as much as I can, but the truth of your real parentage, well, I can’t give you back those years. Not you or your real family. But I’ve gathered together all the proof you should need to convince them of the truth. The only thing is, the more I learn, the more the situation makes me nervous.

Her real family. She had a real family. Why hadn’t he told her this? How could he have let her go on living every day without telling her?

The nurse who brought you to us was there at the cemetery that day.

What cemetery?

I’m pretty sure she saw me. She isn’t going to want you to come forward, Alexis. It’s the last thing she’ll want. What she and that doctor did wasn’t just horrible, it was illegal. She could go to prison. She should go to prison. She’s as guilty as he is. So you’re going to have to be real careful, Alexis. I figure you’ll need help before you go to see your family. The truth is, I’m not sure what sort of a reception you’ll get from any of them. You’re one of the rightful heirs, you see.

No, she didn’t see. She didn’t understand any of this. It was like a bad movie script. How could this be happening?

This envelope contains all the proof you need to claim your birthright. Take it to Ira Rosencroft. He’s an attorney in upstate New York.

This couldn’t be real. Her father had made some horrible mistake. Horrible enough to get him killed.

The town is small. It’s horse country. Stony Ridge, the town is called. I checked around and from what I could learn, Rosencroft has a reputation for being honest. He’s the trustee for Heartskeep, he’ll help you. He has no choice. Just be careful, Alexis. Don’t trust anyone. I wish there had been time for me to do this the right way, but I think my time is running out. I think someone was watching the house today. Maybe I’m getting paranoid, but I’m scared. Not for me. For you. Show Mr. Rosencroft the contents of this packet, but don’t show him this letter and don’t tell him about the money. Don’t tell anyone about the money until you talk to this Kathy. I think you can trust her, Alexis. If she hadn’t found me, I would never have known this much. You’re the best daughter any man could ever want. I know it’s selfish, but I’m glad you were ours. I only wish you had been ours in every way.

The tears she’d thought were used up fell despite her best effort to keep them at bay. She could barely finish the last two lines.

Please don’t think too badly of me. You will always be the daughter of my heart.

Your loving father,

Brian Fitzpatrick Ryder.

For what seemed like a very long time she simply sat there and cried. She tried to make sense of all this, but nothing made sense. Not this rambling note, not the money in the briefcase, and certainly not her father’s death.

He wasn’t her father.

The world she had known had just dissolved.

A car pulled into the lot, alongside hers. She stuffed the letter back inside the briefcase and snapped it shut. The parking lot had filled with cars and people. A young couple sat arguing in the car parked beside her. They didn’t even glance her way, but she couldn’t afford to sit here in plain sight with a briefcase full of money.

Her engine suddenly sputtered and died. The car had finally run out of gas.

With the care reserved for handling fragile items, she lifted the heavy briefcase and got out of her car. She’d never heard of Stony Ridge, and she had only a New York City map in the glove compartment. She’d have to go inside the restaurant to see if she could buy a map. Then she’d have to get the gas can out of her trunk and go to the gas pump to get enough gas to drive her car over to fill it up. And as she trudged through the busy parking lot, one thought kept running through her mind.

How could a woman not know her child existed?

Chapter Two

Wyatt Crossley didn’t like having time on his hands. He understood why his uncle, as chief of police, had no option other than to place him on leave while the shooting of Nolan Ducort was investigated, but Wyatt didn’t have to like it. Stony Ridge had a major murder investigation under way. His investigation.

Unfortunately the Ducort family was politically well-connected and they were demanding answers. He and the two state police officers who’d fired their weapons two nights ago were being forced to wait until ballistics determined which gun had fired the shot that had struck Ducort and the investigators were satisfied that the shooting had been justified.

The outcome wasn’t in question, really, but the three of them had been relieved of their duties until the panel cleared them of any wrongdoing. Wyatt was determined not to let that keep him from conducting some unofficial investigative work.

The bones discovered on the grounds of Heartskeep almost certainly belonged to Amy Hart Thomas. Everyone believed she’d disappeared in New York City seven years ago—everyone except her identical twin daughters. Now it looked as though the twins had been right all along and sloppy police work—specifically, his uncle’s sloppy police work—had let the murderer go undetected for more than seven years.

Leigh and Hayley Thomas had always insisted that their father, Marcus, had killed their mother. Now that Marcus Thomas was dead, there was only one person left who might have the answers to what had really happened seven years ago.

Wyatt frowned as he thought about Eden Voxx Thomas. The R.N. had worked with Dr. Thomas since before his daughters had been born. The obvious scenario for Amy Thomas’s demise would be a love triangle that had ended in murder. But where the Hart family was involved, Wyatt had learned to keep an open mind. Events were seldom as simple as they appeared on the surface.

He hoped finding Eden would solve a big portion of the mystery. The way she’d taken off and disappeared the moment Amy’s body had been discovered implied some prior knowledge of guilt.

His uncle had turned the investigation over to the state police. Stony Ridge didn’t have the manpower or the equipment to deal with a case of such magnitude. Wyatt was the only officer on the small force with a background in criminal investigations. That was why his uncle had assigned him as liaison to the state police. Their forensic team was slowly exhuming the body’s remains while another team concluded a search of the massive estate for possible evidence. Since Wyatt couldn’t continue his role, he figured he’d do some unauthorized investigating on his own.

Eden had tried to remove everything she could carry from the house after her husband’s death. When Amy’s remains had been discovered in the overgrown maze behind the house, Eden had fled, leaving behind a stack of books. Inside those books had been several blackmail notes.

They now knew Marcus had misappropriated more than six hundred thousand dollars from the Heartskeep estate, yet he had died broke. On the surface it appeared he’d stolen the money to pay blackmail demands. But Wyatt was still leery of the obvious. If the auditors that attorney Gavin Jarret had hired were able to match the blackmail demands to the amounts on the forged bills Marcus had submitted on behalf of the estate, maybe Wyatt would be able to tell if Marcus was the one being blackmailed—or the one doing the blackmailing.

Not for the first time Wyatt wished those notes hadn’t been so ambiguous. Not only didn’t they tell him who was being blackmailed, they didn’t give him a clue as to why that someone was being blackmailed.

Wyatt itched to be back at Heartskeep right now, supervising the search of the enormous mansion instead of driving into town looking for Gavin. But he’d already been reprimanded for going back out to Heartskeep the day after shooting Ducort.

Since the estate was off-limits, he’d driven out to the Walken estate this morning. Being their closest neighbors, and Gavin’s former foster parents, Emily and George Walken had opened their home to the twins and Gavin. Unfortunately, Wyatt had made the trek out there for nothing. Only the Walkens’ housekeeper had been present. Nan had informed him that everyone had left, planning to stay elsewhere until the media frenzy died down.

The day had been a fruitless waste of time so far. With any luck Gavin had gone to his office to supervise the audit. Otherwise, Wyatt was going to find himself twiddling his thumbs most of the afternoon.

Parking was at a premium in town. The only spot open was in front of the remains of the dry-cleaning shop and what had once been Gavin’s rented apartment above. The burned-out shell of a building was a silent reminder of how far a person would go to keep a secret. Wyatt wondered how far Eden would go.

He climbed out of his car into the hot, muggy air and wiped at the beads of sweat that immediately formed on his forehead. June was setting records, both for high temperatures and an unusual number of fierce summer storms. Stony Ridge had been fairly lucky so far. Located far enough north of New York City to sit high over the Hudson River, temperatures were generally milder here and the storms tended to give them more of a glancing blow.

Striding down the street, he exchanged greetings with several people without slowing down. The Hart family and Heartskeep had been a source of conversation for the locals since the day the first Hart had set foot in Stony Ridge. The town already hummed with gossip and speculation about the body and recent events at the estate. Wyatt wasn’t about to add to the fodder.

As he neared the narrow brick building that housed the law offices of Rosencroft and Associates, luck finally beamed a smile his way. Leigh—or Hayley?—Thomas stood on the sidewalk out front clutching an oversize briefcase to her chest.

Having met the twins several times now, he was surprised by an unexpected twist of physical awareness when he first caught sight of her. They were attractive young women, but neither of them had ever sent his pulses leaping in anticipation before. Of course, he’d never really seen one of them alone before. Hayley was rarely without Bram Myers at her side. She’d staked a clear claim on the rugged blacksmith and he seemed perfectly content to be claimed—even if her wealth was still an issue between them.

Wyatt decided this must be Leigh. She and Gavin had seemed pretty tight, and he certainly couldn’t blame his friend. Wyatt was struck by the way her chin-length hair shimmered more gold than brown beneath the unrelenting noon sun. The twins were slender, attractive women with identical heart-shaped faces and delicate bone structures. But exhaustion tugged at her expressive features, bowing the graceful arch of her neck.

He shouldn’t be noticing his buddy’s lady this way, but it was hard not to. She had surprisingly long, graceful legs for such a petite woman. And there was definitely something appealing about the way she stood there in her wilted, bright green-and-white blouse and trim navy skirt. The outfit was hardly provocative, but it did show her figure to good advantage.

She turned away from the building and caught him staring. His chagrin was forgotten when haunted blue eyes regarded him with no trace of recognition. Wyatt took a chance on the name.

“Leigh? Is something wrong?”

A stupid question given the current circumstances. No purse, he noticed, but she clutched the large, scuffed briefcase against her chest. Stained and battered, the case wasn’t the sort of accessory he’d associate with a Hart. He set that thought aside as his attention was drawn back to those wide, crystal-blue eyes. Fatigue mixed with sorrow dulled them—a painful reminder that his “case” was her mother’s death.

Wyatt closed the distance between them. “Is Gavin inside?” He nodded toward the door at her back.

Her forlorn expression changed to one of confusion. Her gaze flicked toward the building and back to his face, sliding away quickly.

“The office is closed.”

Her soft voice came out flat and empty. He barely controlled the impulse that started his hand in the direction of her slim, bare arm.

“Has something else happened?”

A flash of fear came and went so fast he wasn’t positive it was what he’d seen.

“Excuse me,” she said more firmly. “I have to go.”

Her reaction was all wrong. So was her appearance. Where was Gavin? Or her sister, for that matter? Leigh shouldn’t be out here alone. She looked like someone running on empty.

Wyatt blocked her path and nodded at the case. “Are those your grandfather’s files?”

Her knuckles whitened as she hugged the awkward case more tightly to her chest.

“I have to go,” she repeated.

He touched her shoulder, stopping her. She raised startled eyes to his. The tip of her tongue touched her lips. The nervous gesture was not the least bit erotic yet it made him sharply aware of her as a woman.

She took a quick step back. Wyatt let his hand fall to his side. Her wary expression made him frown.

She raised her face. “What is it you want?” she demanded.

Several totally inappropriate answers sprang to mind. What the devil was wrong with him? This was Leigh. He was almost positive it was Leigh. While he barely knew the twins, Hayley’s ability to put a man in his place was legendary.

“I’m not your enemy.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Can we talk?”

“Another time. I have to go.”

“Where?”

The question stopped her. For an instant she stared at him in consternation. He would have sworn there was a hint of desperation, even fear, in those expressive eyes. Something was wrong here.

“Let me pass.”

Her voice was still firm.

“I could make the request official.”

Definitely a lick of fear.

“What do you mean?”

His conscience gave a guilty twist. Her vulnerable expression was getting to him. The last thing he wanted was to make her afraid.

“I know we haven’t met under the best of circumstances, but I’m not my uncle, Leigh. I’m on your side.”

She inhaled visibly. Watching her marshal her mental defenses took only a split second, but it revealed quite a bit about her. Leigh would face whatever life tossed at her. He should have known that from the way she’d handled herself when Ducort had threatened to kill her. Still, his admiration went up another notch as she raised her chin another notch and held his gaze.

“What side would that be, exactly?”

Mentally he applauded the challenge. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee and we can discuss it.”

“It’s ninety-eight degrees out here.”

“Good point.” He offered her a wry smile. “How about an iced tea instead?”

“Thanks, but I have to go…home.”

The catch in her voice gave him another glimpse of her vulnerability. Wyatt shook his head. “I’m assuming you don’t mean home to Boston, but if you mean to the Walken estate, I just came from there. Nan said everyone left to avoid the media. They’re still camped out in front of both estates. And if you meant Heartskeep, the state police haven’t finished their investigation yet.”

Panic flared in her expression. While she had plenty of reason to distrust the police, panic made no sense. Yet she looked ready to bolt.

“One drink,” he said gently. “Better yet, what about an ice-cream cone?”

“Ice cream?”

She formed the words as if they were foreign to her. Her eyes skimmed the street—searching for a way to escape? What the devil was going on? He’d take bets it had something to do with her death grip on that case.

This didn’t seem like a good time to remind her of the talk they were supposed to have about the events surrounding her mother’s disappearance.

“Ice cream,” he said calmly. “You know, that frozen stuff that melts on your tongue when you lick it.”

Her eyes widened. He hadn’t meant a sexual connotation, but even to him the words came out sounding that way.