Drawing Close: The Fourth Novel in the Rosemont Series (7 page)

Chapter 13

Loretta Nash turned as Frank Haynes
exited his office. He hesitated, then locked the door. “You won’t need anything
in there.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said, returning her attention
to her computer screen. She knew all too well why he kept his office locked.
There was a safe concealed by a picture hanging right inside the door. She’d
found it several months ago while Haynes was in the hospital after a severe
kidney stone attack.

Her curiosity, fueled by her repulsion over his connection
with that reprobate Chuck Delgado, had compelled her to open the safe. Loretta
knew that they sat on the town council together, but she’d never understood why
her boss had business dealings with Delgado—especially after Delgado had
attempted to rape her. Loretta shuddered. If Haynes hadn’t come looking for her
that New Year’s Eve, Delgado would have succeeded.

The safe contained one solitary item—a
computer jump drive. She’d managed to make a copy of it, and that copy remained
hidden on the top shelf of her bedroom closet. She wasn’t sure what the data
stored on that drive meant, but she suspected it related to the fraud and
embezzlement from the town. Frank Haynes probably kept it as some sort of
insurance for himself—something to turn over to the authorities if he
were ever implicated. She’d made the copy in case she ever needed something to
hold over Haynes. After their dinner the other night, she wasn’t sure she
wanted to keep her copy of it any longer. Loretta looked up and realized Haynes
was staring at her.

“You know what to do with the suppliers? And
you’ll get the payroll submitted in time?”

“Of course I will, Frank. You’ve given me explicit
instructions, and I took careful notes,” she said, gesturing to a steno pad on
the corner of her desk.

Haynes drew a deep breath. “You’ve got my cell
phone?” She nodded. “Call me if you need anything.”

“You’re acting like a parent leaving a newborn
with a babysitter for the first time,” she quipped.

Haynes smiled sheepishly. “I guess I am. This
company is my baby.”

Loretta came around the side of her desk and
walked him to the door. “I know it is, Frank. And I take that very seriously. I
won’t let you down.”

He nodded and opened the door.

“Everything was fine here when you were
hospitalized last year. It’ll be fine again now. When did you say you’d be
back?”

“I’m not sure. I’m visiting a dying friend,” he
said, supplying a partial truth.

“Have a safe trip. I’ll be right here the whole
time,” she replied confidently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

Loretta, however, was not “right
there” the whole time. Frank Haynes hadn’t boarded his flight before she got
the call she had been dreading.

“She’s sick again, Loretta,” came the familiar
voice of Mrs. Walters, her babysitter.

“How bad is she?” Loretta asked, eying the
mountain of paperwork on her desk.

“She’s warm and listless just like she was when
this all started.”

“But not terrible?” Loretta fought the rising
panic inside her.

“No, not yet. That’s why I called. Thought you’d
want to nip this in the bud.”

“I do. I’ll call the doctor and see if I can get
her in right away.”

“I think that’s best, honey,” the kindly older
woman said.

Loretta dialed the number of her daughter’s pediatric
nephrologist and cradled the phone on her shoulder while she straightened up
the piles on her desk. If she had to come back there later that night to finish
the payroll, she’d find a way.

***

Forty-five minutes later, Loretta
and Nicole Nash were ushered into an exam room. The nurse took Nicole’s
temperature and blood pressure, noted them on her chart, and told them the
doctor would be right in. Loretta settled Nicole on the exam table where the four-year-old
closed her eyes and fell quickly asleep.

Loretta was sifting through a stack of old magazines
when the doctor knocked softly and entered the room. “Mrs. Nash,” he said,
extending his hand. “How’s our girl? I was sorry to see her chart on the door.
She’s been doing so well.”

Loretta turned to her daughter. “Nicole was fine
this morning when I left her at the babysitter’s. Mrs. Walters called me about
an hour ago, so this came on suddenly.”

The doctor nodded. “Let’s take a look,” he said.
“Can I wake you up for a few minutes, Nicole?” he asked, touching her shoulder
gently. The little girl roused herself and sat up.

“Have you been giving her the medication as
directed?”

Loretta hesitated, and the doctor looked up at her
sharply.

“She’s been at half dose for the last few days,”
she confessed. “I’ve been waiting to refill it until payday.

“You need to give her the medicine as directed,”
he replied stiffly.

Loretta twisted her hands. “I know. But she was
doing so much better, and you told me that if she continued to do well, you’d
wean her off the medicine. So I didn’t think it would hurt for a few days …”

“And that may not be it at all,” he reassured.
“She may need a change in medication.” He looked directly at Loretta. “For now,
I want her to go back on her medicine—as instructed. Can you afford to
get the prescription refilled?”

Loretta flushed and nodded. “I can do that.”

“Tonight,” he said. “You need to restart her on it
right away. I’ll call you tomorrow to see how she is. If she gets worse
tonight, take her to the emergency room at Mercy Hospital. If she gets better,
I’ll want to see her back here day after tomorrow.”

Loretta nodded, glancing at the clock on the wall.
If the pharmacy wasn’t too busy, she’d be able to pick up Nicole’s medicine and
drop her off at the babysitter’s in time to return to Haynes Enterprises and
make the daily bank deposit. She coaxed her lethargic child out of the doctor’s
office and into the car.

***

Loretta was running much later than
she’d anticipated. The pharmacy had been busy, and now, after taking her
medicine, Nicole was clinging to her at the sitter’s. Loretta handed her
inconsolable daughter to Mrs. Walters. “I’m sorry, but I really have to get
back to work. I’ve got to finish payroll.”

“I don’t mind having her, but she wants her
mother. Surely Mr. Haynes can get along without you for the rest of the afternoon,”
Mrs. Walters said, bouncing the crying child on her hip and following Loretta
to the door.

“That’s just it,” Loretta said. “Frank Haynes is
out of town, and he’s depending on me to run things while he’s away.” She
looked at the sitter and could see that the older woman disapproved. “He’s been
very good to me, you know,” she snapped. “He’s let me take time off work to be with
Nicole, and he gave me a bonus that allowed me to send Sean and Marissa to the
camp they’re at now. So I owe him.”

“If you say so, dear. I didn’t mean to offend you.
I know how hard this is on you,” she said and patted Loretta’s arm. “Just don’t
overdo. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I’m not worried about myself,” Loretta said. “I
may not be able to pick her up until late.”

“Not a problem. Nicole will be asleep by then,”
Mrs. Walters said, smoothing her hand over Nicole’s back. “Do you want me to
keep her overnight for you?”

Loretta shook her head emphatically. “I’m going to
tuck her into bed with me tonight.” She kissed Nicole on the forehead. “I’ll be
back as soon as I can.”

Chapter 14

It wasn’t quite noon when Frank
Haynes took the first exit off of Interstate 70 and headed into Richmond,
Indiana. He’d programmed Gina Gallagher’s address into the rental car’s GPS and
was making good time.

He hoped his plan would work. He hadn’t phoned
ahead and didn’t know if Gina Gallagher would be home in the middle of the day,
let alone if Roger Spenser was living with her and would be willing to speak to
him. Surprise was still his best bet. If Roger Spenser had done what Haynes
thought he had, he’d be suspicious of anyone from Westbury. If he had a chance
to think about it, Spenser would probably refuse to talk to him.

The GPS took Haynes to a quiet residential street
of large two-story brick homes set well back from the tree-lined roadway.
The
best of Middle America,
Haynes thought to himself as he slid the car to the
curb. He admired the intricate brickwork as he made his way slowly up the steep
walkway. Was it his imagination, or did he see someone watching him from a
crack in the curtain of a window on the second floor?

Haynes knocked firmly on the front door and
composed his expression into what he hoped was a reliable-looking countenance.
After a long pause, a woman’s voice could be heard through the closed door.
“Can I help you?”

“I’m Frank Haynes, ma’am. I believe Roger Spenser
is your brother and may be living with you. I’m here to see him on an urgent
matter.” Haynes tried to sound comforting and respectful. He waited.

The woman finally opened the door and stood,
examining him carefully.

“You’re Gina Gallagher—Roger Spenser’s
sister? Might I see him for a moment? I know he’s been ill, and I promise I
won’t wear him out.”

“He’s beyond all that now, Mr. Haynes. Roger died
last week.”

“I’m sorry,” Haynes replied.

Gina Gallagher nodded. “After months of suffering
with this retched disease, he’s now at peace.”

Haynes remained awkwardly in place. Gina Gallagher
regarded him with an odd expression. “Where are you from?”

“Westbury.”

She sighed heavily. “What was your grandmother’s
maiden name?” she asked curtly.

“Mary Rose Hawkins,” he answered, startled by the
question.

The woman nodded. “You’d better come inside.”

She led him into a tidy living room furnished with
an overstuffed sofa and love seat. She did not invite him to sit. Gina
Gallagher opened a small drawer in an antique rolltop desk in the corner.

“My brother gave me this when he first came to us;
when he was so sick.” She handed Haynes a thin business-sized envelope. “He
told me not to open it but to keep it in a safe place. Said that someone from
Westbury might come looking for him. He told me to ask who their grandmother
was and if they answered ‘Mary Rose Hawkins,’ I was to give them the envelope.”

Haynes steadied his hand as he reached for the
envelope. “Did he tell you why he left this?” Haynes asked.

Gina Gallagher shook her head. “I was so busy
taking care of him that I just stuck it on a shelf and forgot about it.” She
looked at him closely. “When he gave it to me, I could see he was troubled
about something having to do with it. I was reminded of it, again, in his final
days.”

Haynes arched his brows.

“He was heavily medicated and too incoherent to
make sense. But he was very remorseful about something he’d done years ago.
Wouldn’t be comforted. Kept mumbling about the letter. The only thing that
eased his agitation was my assurance that the letter was safely tucked away.”

Haynes moved to open the letter, and Gina
Gallagher put her hand on his arm. “No. Not here; not in front of me. I can
accept that there’s something dark in my brother’s past, but I don’t want to
know what it is. Roger was my older brother and very dear to me. He never had
children of his own and helped us put braces on our kids’ teeth and sent them
all through college.” She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Leave me with my
memories of my brother.”

Haynes put his hand over hers and nodded. “Thank
you, Mrs. Gallagher. I’m sure you’ve been a wonderful sister. Now that you’ve
delivered this letter, I hope you can forget about it,” he said.

“Me, too,” she answered as she ushered him to the
door.

***

Frank Haynes drove to the end of
the street, out of view of the Gallagher home, and opened the envelope. It
contained one sheet of paper, the final legal document ever drafted by Roger
Spenser—an affidavit, signed by him in front of a notary public. In
straightforward fashion, Spenser confessed to accepting a bribe of one million
dollars from Paul Martin in exchange for removing from the Vital Records Office
the original birth certificate of one Mary Rose Hawkins and giving it to Paul
Martin. He revealed that the office fire had been his own idea—extra
insurance that his perfidy would never be uncovered—and went on to state
that he was making this confession before his death not to stir up any trouble
after so many years but to assist anyone that might be persistent enough to
pursue the truth. He concluded by apologizing for the wrongs he had done and
for the disgrace he had brought to his family.

Haynes re-read the affidavit. He’d done it.
Unearthed the evidence necessary to secure his claim to Rosemont. He slapped
the steering wheel with his hand. Wait until he put this into the hands of the
very talented Simon Wilkens, Esq. He punched his attorney’s number into his
phone and waited while his call was connected.

Chapter 15

Maggie walked down the sloping back
lawn of Rosemont toward the low stone wall that separated the lawn from the
swath of woods that circled the property. The dew on the grass soaked through
the old canvas espadrilles that she kept stationed by the kitchen door as her
“garden shoes.” Roman raced ahead of her while Eve picked her way judiciously
through the wet grass. She smiled at the sight of the unlikely couple before
her—Sam, the experienced journeyman and David, the young apprentice—working
seamlessly together to restore the corner of the stone wall that had begun to
crumble.

“You two look like you could be in a painting of
rural England a hundred years ago,” Maggie called as she approached.

Sam raised his head but didn’t turn. “Joan is
always telling me I need to get new work clothes. If I look like someone from a
hundred years ago, I guess she’s right.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Maggie laughed. “You’re
repairing a wall in the ancient method.” She turned to David. “You don’t look
like you’re from a hundred years ago. You look like a modern young man of
today,” she hastened to add, realizing she might have offended him.

“I think it’s kinda cool. I like this work,” he
replied, kneeling to accept a profusion of doggy kisses from Roman.

Maggie nodded. “I came down here to see if you’d
have time to carry the silver down from the attic and place it on the folding
tables I’ve set up outside the butler’s pantry. I’m anxious to start putting it
away.”

David looked to Sam.

“I think that’ll be fine. We’ll be finished here
by noon, and then I’ll send him to you.”

“Perfect. You come, too, Sam, and I’ll make you
both a sandwich.”

Sam nodded. “Best job in town, son,” he said to
David. “See you in a bit, Maggie.”

***

David knocked lightly on the
library door in midafternoon. “I’ve got all the silver downstairs for you,
ma’am.”

Maggie pushed her chair back and tossed her
reading glasses on the thick stack of documents on her desk. “Good. I’m going
cross-eyed looking at these spreadsheets, and I need a break. Let’s see what
you’ve got for me.” She gently dislodged Buttercup from the cat’s customary
perch on her lap and stood. Maggie motioned for David to follow her down the
long paneled hallway to the butler’s pantry.

“Well, look at this,” she declared. “You’ve lined
everything up by category, and in rows of descending height. Very organized,”
she said, turning to smile at him. “I didn’t ask you to do this, but I
appreciate that you took the initiative.”

Maggie turned back to the sea of silver spread out
on the folding tables. “I need to polish all of this before I put it away. That
will be a huge job.” She looked at David over her shoulder. “Care to help?”

“I’ve never polished silver, but I’m willing to
learn.”

“Next Saturday? Or will you be helping Sam?”

“Neither one, actually.” He turned aside. “My
mother and I are getting ready to move.”

“Oh,” Maggie said. “Are you leaving town?” She, of
all people, could understand if Jackie Wheeler wanted a fresh start where no
one had ever heard of her disgraced husband.

David shook his head. “No. My mom got laid off,
and we can’t pay the mortgage, so we have to move.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Maggie said.
“Where will you go?”

“We’re putting our stuff into my uncle’s garage,
and we’ll stay at his house until we find someplace we can afford.”

“That’s nice of your uncle. Lucky he has a big
enough place.”

“He doesn’t, really. I’m sleeping on the sofa. And
he won’t let Dodger in the house. I’m going to have to leave him in the garage
or chain him up outside.” David brushed the back of his hand across his eyes.

Maggie turned to him. “Something will turn up for
you, David. You’ll see. This seems very bad to you right now, but it may turn
out to be a blessing.”

***

Maggie rolled toward John as soon
as he turned out the light and rested her head against his shoulder.

“I can tell by your breathing, sweetheart, that
you’re thinking about something. Your mind is going a mile a minute, and you’re
not the least bit sleepy,” he said.

Maggie pulled her head back and looked at him in
the soft moonlight seeping through the shutters. During warm weather, Maggie
left the heavy drapes open to hang as sentries to the shuttered windows, only
closing them when required to shut out the cold drafts of winter. “You know me
so well, don’t you?”

“So what’s on your mind? Still worrying about that
creep Delgado? Or is it the town’s financials?”

“Neither, actually. This time it’s David Wheeler.”

“Why? What’s happened to David? I thought he was
working with Sam and doing a great job.”

“He is. But I talked to him today—asked him
if he’d like to polish that blasted silver next Saturday—and he told me
he can’t. He’s getting ready to move.”

“I’m sure he can do it another Saturday. Surely
there’s no real hurry. Or you can get someone else.”

“It’s not the silver I’m worried about; it’s
David. He said that his mom lost her job and they have to move because they
can’t pay their mortgage.”

“That’s a shame,” John agreed.

“The worst part is that they’re moving in with his
uncle, who doesn’t have much space. David seems terribly unhappy about it. He
said he’ll have to sleep on the sofa and Dodger won’t be allowed in the house.”
Maggie rose on her elbow. “It broke my heart, John. What’s wrong with that
uncle of his? Can’t he see how much David loves that dog? The poor kid’s been
through enough. He needs to make an exception for Dodger. I’ve got half a mind
to pay his uncle a visit.”

John reached to his nightstand and turned on the
light. “Don’t do that, honey. People don’t like strangers poking their noses
into their business.”

“Then what do you suggest we do to help?”

John rested on his elbows. “We decided to keep my
house as an investment rental property, remember? Tim Knudsen said it’s ideal
for that.”

“I remember.”

“I just hired Sam to paint it and put in new
carpet—touch up a few things—before we put the ‘For Rent’ sign out.
In fact, I’ll bet David will help Sam with it. What if we rent to David and his
mom?”

“Do you think they can afford it?”

“I own it free and clear. If we don’t get market
rate out of them, is that the worst thing that could happen?” John asked.

Maggie sprang to her knees and grabbed his face
with both of her hands, planting a big kiss on his mouth and knocking him back
into his pillow. “Of course not. It’s a brilliant idea. You are the sweetest,
kindest man in all the world. And I’m the luckiest gal for miles around.”

John grasped her waist and reached for the light.
“I’ll call Sam and Tim in the morning. We’ll put our heads together and find a
way to make this happen so that they don’t feel like they’re getting charity
from anyone.”

“You are both kind and thoughtful in the way you
do things.”

“Glad you approve.”

“I find it terribly sexy, actually.”

“Even better,” John said as he pulled her toward
him.

***

David Wheeler stumbled as he caught
the cuff of his jeans on a loose baseboard in the kitchen. He managed to keep
the box he was lugging to his mom’s car upright, so its contents didn’t cascade
to the floor. He turned and gave the baseboard, now jutting into the room, a
firm kick. Instead of going back into place, as he’d intended, the baseboard
buckled and broke free, exposing the wall and a sheaf of papers.

David set the box on the kitchen counter and
picked up the strange papers that were hidden behind the baseboard. Rows and
rows of ten-digit numbers, six columns across, filled three and a half pages.
All carefully printed by the same hand.

His father had been the only person in the family
with secrets to hide. David was staring at the numbers, trying to discern some
meaning from them, when his mother came looking for him.

“David,” she said, running her hand through her
hair. “What in the world are you doing just standing there? I need to take that
stuff to the consignment store before it closes. If we’re lucky, we’ll get
three or four hundred dollars out of it all.”

David nodded absently, keeping his attention fixed
on the papers in his hands.

“What have you got there?” his mom asked.

David handed them to her. “I don’t know. Have you
seen these before?”

“Oh, that,” Jackie Wheeler said and pushed the
papers back at him. “Your father had a bunch of those before he was arrested.”

“So they were Dad’s?”

She nodded and scanned the room with her eyes. “Is
there anything else you think we can sell?” David shook his head. She gestured
to the papers he was holding. “That’s all gibberish. You may as well throw it
away. Grab that box and let’s get going. Break time is over.”

David crumpled the papers into a ball and was
about to send them sailing to the trash bag when something compelled him to
stop. He smoothed the papers, folded them into a neat bundle, and carefully
tucked them into the back pocket of his jeans. If they had anything to do with
his late father, he wanted to find out more about them.