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“Yes. I know he does, and I love him. Like all the songs say. You have to be willing to let your true love go.”
“That’s bullshit. Those songs should be banned. I almost lost my three wonderful men because I bought into that belief. Let me tell you something, Ash, and listen good—if you love him, you hold on with both hands as tight as you can. You do whatever it takes to help him see what kind of future that he, Sylas, and you can have.” The passion in Phoebe’s voice couldn’t be missed. “You know better than anyone that Nic needs a family, Ash.”
“Yes, I do. I wish Sylas and I could be his family.”
They heard the bell that alerted someone had walked into the reception area.
“That’s got to be Jena,” Phoebe said.
“Another secret meeting that I didn’t schedule?”
“Not a secret. I just set it up this morning, Ash.”
Wondering what the appointment with Jena was about, she stood. “I’ll go get her and take her to the conference room.”
“You most certainly won’t.” Phoebe left her seat. “You’re off the clock today. Remember?”
She followed her into the reception area. “What clock? There’s never been a clock here. Hi, Jena.”
Jena was always prepared, and as usual, she had her computer bag with her. “How are you?”
“She needs to be studying,” Phoebe said, “but I’m actually glad she’s here. I want her in on this meeting.”
This wasn’t the first time that Phoebe had sought out Jena for her incredible skills. Jena was one of the top cyber intelligence experts in the country and was unsurpassed in her ability to uncover hidden information. What case did Phoebe want to engage her for?
Once in the conference room and seated, Jena asked, “How can I help you, Phoebe?”
“Ashley and I are working on a case for Jennifer Steele. And at present our position is very weak. There’s a good possibility we might lose.” Phoebe explained to Jena about the alleged claim on Jennifer’s ranch. “Ashley has had doubts that the man is actually Bill’s brother. The more I thought about it the more I began to believe she might be right. That’s why we need your help, Jena.”
“I’d be happy to help.” Jena pulled out her laptop and placed it on the table. “Anything for Jennifer. She’s a wonderful woman and a friend. Jennifer and my mom have become very close. And Kimmie just adores her. I can start right now.”
“That’s fantastic,” Ashley said, standing. “I’ll get you copies of everything we have on the man claiming to be Walter Steele.” She left the conference room and went to her desk. It was good to be working because it kept her mind off of Nic and Sylas. But she knew she would have to face them head on.
She turned on her computer. As it booted up, she wondered what Sylas thought about Phase Four. Was he still there? And what about Nic? What was he doing right now? What would he think about the intervention the men of Destiny had planned for him?
So much for keeping my mind off of them.
She signed into her computer and brought up the files on Walter Steele. She’d made hard copies for her and Phoebe already. Besides Jena needing copies, with Nic and Sylas coming on board, they would need them, too. She hit the print button.
Her mind wouldn’t let go of her troubles, despite all her efforts. How the hell was she going to pass the bar next week?
One foot in front of the other, Ashley. That’s the only way.
As she was placing the pages into folders for Jena, Nic, and Sylas, something caught her attention on the property tax record. It looked different.
Last week, she’d printed out the information from the Florida county appraisal district the man lived in. Normally, Phoebe had her go over all the records for their cases, but with her bar exam coming up, Phoebe had decided to do the reviews herself. That had created a backlog.
Ashley pulled out the original file she’d printed on this case. She placed the property tax record next to the same record she’d printed today.
There was a significant difference.
Today’s copy had Walter Steele’s middle initial on his property tax records for 2013 as an L. That matched the Swanson County birth certificate of Bill’s brother. Walter Leon Steele. But the page she’d printed last week had a D. She read the timestamps on both pages. Identical. Not possible. The records were different.
She clicked on the intercom to the conference room. “Phoebe, can you and Jena come out here? There’s something I need to show you that I believe Jena can help with.”
When they were at her desk, she showed them what she’d found. “It doesn’t make any sense. I’m the one who saved the file. They should be identical. How is this possible?”
“Someone with incredible technical savvy can forge all kinds of records and timestamps.” Jena motioned to the keyboard. “Do you mind if I give it a try on your computer?”
