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“You’re sure that’s the whole story?” Brian asked.
“The Miami Police corroborate her version, and they interviewed bystanders,” Trey replied. “Why?”
“Like I said, bizarre. Where is this woman now?”
“Upstairs with Jason. She’ll join us for lunch when he falls asleep.”
“So you’ve allowed this stranger into your home? Is that wise?”
“I didn’t have much choice without sending Jason into full-out hysterics. I couldn’t do that to him.”
“I’d like to talk to her with you present,” Brian said. “See if she tells the story the same way twice.” He removed his glasses and tapped them on his cheek. “I’d also like to run a background check on her.”
“She’s a police officer. As soon I feed her, she’ll be out of our lives.”
“Maybe.”
Trey shrugged. “Whatever you think. What’s that?” Trey nodded to the document in Brian’s lap.
“Part of the reason for my caution. This is a demand letter from Darlene’s father—or rather Darlene’s father’s new attorney.” Brian handed Trey the paper over the desk.
“My ex-wife didn’t have a father.”
“Oh, she had one. He just wasn’t in her life following conception. One Jeff Lawson just got out of prison, found out who the bundle of joy he never laid eyes on married, and thinks—like his daughter before him—why not dip into the deep Wentworth pot for a little extra spending money.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Trey stared at the letter in outrage. Lawson’s attorney, a sole practitioner, had a post office box for an address.
“Don’t worry about it. I had to tell you, but it’s nothing but a nuisance, a bottom-feeder lawyer making some noise. I’ll deal with it.”
Trey sat back and closed his eyes. “Yeah, please handle it. Right now I’ve got to focus on Jason.”
“Carico is good. She’ll get Jase straightened out.”
“I hope so,” Trey said. The phone rang, and Trey checked caller ID, surprised to see his father’s private number. Was he actually taking time to check on Jason?
“Excuse me,” Trey told Brian. “It’s my father.”
Brian stood. “I’ll check on lunch.”
“Hi, Dad,” Trey said into the phone.
“Trey. I got your message. Excellent news.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I trust you’ll make certain Jason is better protected from now on.”
Trey didn’t respond. His dad never missed an opportunity to get in a dig. This one was a low blow, but better not to react.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten the Alzheimer’s benefit,” his father continued.
“What did you say?”
“You’re scheduled to appear at The Turf Club tonight.”
Trey closed his eyes. No way could he attend a formal party now. The idea sickened him. How typical that his father expected him to go.
“Sorry, Dad. Under the circumstances, I won’t be able to make it. I’ll send regrets and a large check.”
After a long silence, his father cleared his throat. “Hundreds of very expensive tickets were sold based on your appearance. The Wentworth name is all over this event.”
“Dad—”
“Don’t let the family down, Trey. Jason is fine. He’ll likely sleep the night through.”
“How do you know Jason is fine?”
“He’s home, isn’t he? Just put in a brief appearance, shake a few hands and down a few glasses of champagne. It’s your job, son. I expect you to attend.”
And with that his father disconnected.
Trey smothered a curse and replaced the receiver. What made him think this time his father would demonstrate some normal human emotion?
So he was going to The Turf Club tonight. Putting on a cheerful smile and glad-handing strangers was impossible. How would he get through the evening? He didn’t want to go, but this was the unholy deal he’d made with his father, the only sure way to protect his mother. A deal that had never chafed worse than right now.
What if Jason were still missing? Would his father still expect him to put on a tux and promote Wentworth Industries?
