The Good Daughter (13 page)

A young boy chased after a Frisbee, running backward, not watching where he was going. He bumped into a woman, who reached out to steady him.

Gloria.

Vince squinted, trying to be sure the woman he saw was not just a figment of his wishes. No, it was Gloria, he was certain. He scanned the street, looking for a quick place to park. Just as he was about to abandon his car where it stood, he glanced back to see her joined by a man who was facing away from Vince. Something familiar niggled at Vince’s mind.

The man turned slightly, arm raised as if making a point.

Newcombe.
Vince’s breath caught. He slammed on the brakes, taking a glimpse in his rearview mirror to see if he blocked traffic. Not yet. He stayed right where he was, itching to leap from the car.

That would be the height of folly. Whatever he was watching, it wouldn’t do for Newcombe to know he was there. He’d observe, then talk to Gloria after she and Newcombe parted.

The two were arguing, Newcombe with a menacing stance, Gloria gesturing wildly. Newcombe’s body
language said he had the upper hand; Gloria’s said she didn’t like it one bit.

He’d been right. Newcombe had played a part in Gloria’s change of story. But why? And how?

How wasn’t such a mystery as why. Newcombe was a cop; he had the ability to make her life hell. He might even threaten her with losing her son. Why might not be a mystery, either. Newcombe wanted Vince in ruins; Gloria could help.

Horns honked behind Vince. Cursing under his breath, he hit the gas. He made a left turn and parked in a nearby alley, then carefully walked back to the edge of the building to watch the two from a distance.

Newcombe shook one threatening finger at Gloria, then stalked away, angry determination on his face. Gloria’s face crumpled. She whirled and ran across the open space and into the trees on the other side of the park.

Vince wanted to follow her, but Newcombe’s path lay between them. Until he had more information, Vince wasn’t ready to confront his nemesis. He wished Newcombe would hurry up, before Vince lost Gloria in the crowd.

Finally, Newcombe veered off toward a side street. Vince raced across the pavement, his gaze fixed on the last spot where he’d seen her. His long strides rapidly covered the open space, but as soon as he neared her last location, he already knew it was too late.

She was gone. Vince gritted his teeth in frustration.

Maybe that was just as well; whatever hold Newcombe had on her, Vince wasn’t sure he could break it. He couldn’t be certain that their odd friendship would
supersede her fear. No matter how much he’d done for her in the past, Vince had no carrot to offer Gloria now.

Damn. One chance sighting. Not much to hang his career on.

Just let me catch one break, Newcombe. Then you’re toast.

C
HLOE’S MOTHER
was nowhere in evidence when the houseman let her in. “This way, Miss Chloe.” He gestured. “Your father’s in his library.”

Chloe walked past him into the room that, with its rosewood paneling and thick carpets, massive furniture and shelf after shelf of leather-bound books, perfectly represented John St. Claire’s power and influence. At the huge mahogany desk, her father sat working. Before he saw her, she paused, feeling, for the first time, a stranger in this house.

Their gazes met. Chloe had always been the good daughter, trying with everything in her to make this man proud so that he would at last take her in his arms and swing her around the way Jenny Sadler’s father had, letting her hair fly as she squealed. Or snuggle her on his lap the way she’d seen Meggie Albert’s father do on sleepovers, before reading them story after story, then tucking them both into bed.

The young Chloe had longed for a jovial dad, free with affection, and blamed herself that hers wasn’t. The therapist Chloe understood intellectually that he was a reserved man who nonetheless loved her deeply, that he had demonstrated his caring in other ways with
his fierce protectiveness, his hard work to give her a good life.

The Chloe she was now, split in half by his stunning revelation, knew only that she understood nothing, but she wouldn’t leave until she did. “Why?” she asked. “You said you weren’t ashamed of my past, so why did you hide it?”

He remained silent, and she saw the cost to him. Maybe she shouldn’t be asking anything of him when he was so obviously ill. Deep within Chloe, terror stirred. Through all the years of her memory, she’d counted on an unspoken assurance that whether or not she ever lived up to his expectations, he would not let harm come to her.

To think that the greatest threat she’d encounter would come from him would have been unimaginable.

Uncertainty dogged her. He was fighting off an invisible predator inside his body. Maybe she should wait; maybe she didn’t need all the facts right now.

But she did.

“I’m sorry, Chloe.” He spoke before she could summon the words. “I was aware when we embarked on this course that there were pitfalls in it. I told myself that you didn’t need hurtful information, and as the years went on, it became easier to believe that it didn’t matter. That you wouldn’t care, that you’d even be glad if you knew, because we’d given you a good life and all the advantages so many children don’t have.” He paused, and she saw a new vulnerability in him. “We did give you a good life, didn’t we, sweetheart?”

Torn, Chloe cast about for the right answer. No matter
what he’d done, the price of it was plain on his face. She wouldn’t add to it by discussing the father she’d wanted him to be. “You gave me every advantage money could buy,” she answered honestly. When he winced, she hastened to add, “You made me feel safe. I always knew you would take care of me.”

“But it wasn’t enough, was it?” he asked with surprising insight. She had no idea he’d seen into her heart. “You always wanted a sibling. Never a brother, though—you used to make up names and play imaginary games with a sister. Remember that?”

“Not the imaginary games, but I do remember always wanting a sister. I didn’t realize that you were aware of it.”

“You were such a solitary child, Chloe, and almost frighteningly bright and perceptive. We were aware that you missed your sisters, but we thought the best thing to do was to close off your past and concentrate on the future.” His eyes grew sad. “You cried yourself to sleep every night for six months. In the daytime, you were so withdrawn that we despaired of ever getting you past it. We consulted a psychologist in Dallas and kept her on retainer.”

“Why Dallas?” was the first question Chloe could sort out of the jumble of all she wanted to know.

He looked uncomfortable then. “Please.” He gestured. “Sit down. This is going to take some time to explain.”

Chloe didn’t want to sit, but she could see him flagging, so she obeyed.

“It’s hard to figure out where to start,” he said. He
sagged against his chair. “I suppose with your mother and me. You can’t be surprised to learn that we were not a love match. I was first attracted to your mother’s money.”

Chloe stifled a gasp at the harsh statement.

“She understood that, though we never discussed it then. The alliance suited us both. I was ambitious but poor, and she was well on her way to becoming what was once called a spinster. She’d always been aware that the wealth she’d inherited upon the death of her parents made her the object of fortune hunters, and she’d learned caution early on. I was a pretty good catch, though, if I do say so myself. To make a long story short, she fell for me, and I found much to admire in her. We were compatible, which is a far sounder basis for marriage than passion. People make mistakes when they let passions rule.”

There, in a nutshell, was Chloe’s life. If Vince could hear this conversation, he’d understand how she’d remained a virgin this long. “Maybe they do, but a life without passion is colorless,” she said.

His smile was fond. “You think that now, sweetheart, but I promise you, passion doesn’t last. Your mother and I were older, and we understood the world beyond the rush of heated blood.”

Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but closed it without saying anything. They would never see eye to eye on this, and she was relieved to understand why.

“I’m sorry to say, now that I know the joy of it, that we never planned to have children. Over time, though, your mother came to want a child desperately—” He
stopped, clearing his throat. “And I couldn’t give her one. I’d had mumps as a teenager, and I was sterile.”

Chloe felt his discomfort and squirmed herself at such an intimate revelation. “So you agreed to adopt. Why hide it?”

He grimaced. “That was more your mother saving my pride than anything else. And since we’d moved to a new place and neither of us had extended family, it was easy enough to go along with assumptions that you were our biological child. And that’s why the psychologist in Dallas with ties to no one here.”

He placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward. “You’re ours, Chloe. Make no mistake about that. No, it wasn’t me who wanted to be a parent and I never expected to care for you so much, but it didn’t take long before I knew I’d die for you.” His eyes grew fierce. “Hate us—hate
me,
since I was the reason your past was hidden—but
never
think that we don’t love you. You quickly became everything to both of us.”

Chloe jumped up from her chair and began to pace, unable to withstand the onslaught of emotions—love tangling with fury that this man had played God with her life as though he had the right.

One thought leaped past the others. “The psychologist can’t possibly have condoned what you did.”

He looked abashed. “No. As a matter of fact, she’d feel smug right now. She warned us that we’d never get away with it for a lifetime, that the longer we waited to tell you, the deeper and more permanent the estrangement would be.” He lifted haunted eyes to hers. “We waited too long, but we believed we’d have time…and
then our lives were so good that it was easier to just keep going. As the years passed, we seldom thought about it because in our minds, you were our daughter and only ours. When we did consider it, we worried that we’d lose you if you found out.

“Was the psychologist right? Have we lost you, Chloe? Please, don’t blame your mother for this. She only went along for the sake of my pride.”

“How could you—” She whirled away, unable to sort out so many conflicting impulses. Then she whirled back, hands clenched. “I don’t know what to do. I never fit, and I always wondered why it was so hard. Part of me wants to punish you for what you’ve stolen from me.” Tears stung her eyes. “Part of me feels terrible about that anger because you’re—”

His smile held no mirth. “Dying?” He shook his head. “Maybe this is my punishment, Chloe. Maybe the idea of karma is real, and I’m reaping mine now.” He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “But regardless of what happens to me, I’m concerned about you, sweetheart. Angry with me or not, you’ve depended on me most of your life to protect you, and the desire to do that doesn’t just vanish. Even if the one you need protecting from is me.” He rose and took a step toward her, then halted. “Tell me what you want from me, Chloe. If it’s within my power, you’ll have it. I’ll move heaven and earth to make this up to you.”

Anger shot past weakness. “You can never make this up to me. You’ve taken my life from me. Worse, you’ve made me spend twenty-three years trying to become
someone I’m not. And in doing so, I’ve lost who I really am.”

He recoiled as if from a physical blow and grasped the desk for support but somehow remained standing. “You may be right that I can never fix this, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do something.” His body might be failing, but his eyes held the ferocity of the lion he’d always been. “I had the resources to hide this from you for all these years. I can use them to help you find your sisters now.”

Chloe had come here expecting to have to fight her parents on this, to have to dig for every morsel of information. “You would do that?”

“Sweetheart,” he said, his face drained and gray, “I would open up a vein and give you my lifeblood if that would help.” His mouth twisted in a rueful shadow of a smile. “If my blood weren’t tainted with this damn disease.” He shook his head but returned his gaze to hers. “It won’t take long to locate them. I’ve had someone watching for them all these years.”

“What?” She stared at him. “You know where they are?”

“No, not specifically. I wanted to forget they existed. But I’ve paid someone to alert me if—”

If they tried to find me,
Chloe finished silently. “But they haven’t tried, have they?” she said, voice hollow.

“I don’t know that. We covered our tracks well. What I’ve paid him for is to make periodic checks on them and to also let me know if there had been inquiries to the doctor or the judge who helped us out. They could be searching, but they’re not close to finding you yet.”

Hope stirred. Maybe they did care, these sisters she could barely imagine. “Do you know what they look like?”
Do they resemble me?

His eyes were dark and defeated. “No. I didn’t want to.”

Suddenly, Chloe couldn’t be angry with him any longer. More than anything, she was sad. And lonelier than she’d ever been in a life filled with solitude. They couldn’t go back to what they’d been, and she could take no comfort in the illusions that had comprised what she’d thought to be the truth of her life. But the man before her was offering to help her find out what the truth in fact was, when he could have fought her on it.

“Sit down,” she said, grasping his elbow.

He stiffened in pride, leaning against his desk.

“Please, Daddy,” Chloe said, and tightened her grip on his arm, feeling exhaustion tremble in his big frame. She lifted her gaze to his. “I do want your help. I want everything you can get on them. But the first thing we have to do is take care of your health. Please…let’s sit down.”

“You’ll stay?” The uncertainty in his eyes nearly broke her. Not once in her life had she seen this man be anything but supremely confident.

“Yes,” she answered. “I’ll stay for a while.”