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“Am I sure that Rocky was making regular payments to someone for at least the past six years?” Molly asked. “Yes.”
What the hell? No way.Gabe took another step, then froze.
“Am I sure that it was a woman in Houston?” Molly went on. “Pretty sure, yes. Do I think that Rocky was keeping a woman there? I don’t know the answer to that.”
No.Gabe shook his head hard, unwilling to accept that his father had kept a secret like that from him.
He didn’t tell you he had cancer.
That’s different.
Is it? And maybe he thought you’d object.
But six years... Mom was still alive six years ago.
“No!” The word burst from him as he barreled into the kitchen. “You’re wrong. My father wouldn’t have done that to my mom.”
Burke and Molly sat at the table, Molly at the head and Burke on her right. She went very still at his outburst, a piece of paper in her gloved hand. “Good morning, Gabe.”
“No, it’s not a good morning,” he hissed. “You’re making accusations against my father. You’re wrong. Burke, tell her that she’s wrong.”
Burke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve only had two hours’ sleep, Gabe. I’m tired and cranky and I need some of that coffee before I can think clearly. Have a cup with me while we let Molly explain what she found.”
Gabe shook his head. “Not if she’s going to say that my father had a mistress. While my mother was still alive and dying from cancer. Because that didn’t happen.”
Molly set the piece of paper on the table. “I didn’t say that,” she said calmly.
So calmly that he wanted to scream. Until he saw the way her hand trembled.
And then he remembered how she’d comforted him the night before when he’d seen the destruction in his father’s house. He remembered her compassion.
She was just doing her job. That I asked her to do.
So, he pulled out the chair on her left and sat, turning to face her. “What is it that you think you’ve found?”
She exhaled quietly, a flicker of relief in her blue-green eyes. Angling an inch-high stack of papers his way, she showed him the top sheet. “Automated deductions, same amount every month. This is the earliest that I’ve found, from six years ago. He kept records going back seven years, and there was no such activity during the first year of records, so I think it’s safe to assume it started six years ago.”
Gabe frowned. “Three hundred and fifty dollars,” he read. “Where did it go?”
“To John Alan Industries.” She pointed her gloved finger at the transaction.
“John Alan?” Gabe flinched, his gut twisting as a harsh shiver shook him. “That’s... impossible.”
But that was the name on the paper.
“Why?” Molly asked softly. “Why is it impossible?”
Gabe started to speak, but the word came out a croak. He cleared his throat. “My mother got pregnant when I was twenty. She was forty-four.”
Molly’s brows furrowed, her lips moving silently as she counted. “She was older than your father, then.”
“Yes, by five years.”
Molly’s expression grew sad. “She lost the baby?”
He nodded. “I didn’t even know she was pregnant until she lost the baby. She was waiting until she was out of her first trimester to tell anyone.” His jaw clenched. “Because chances of miscarriage were higher due to her age. Turns out she was right. I remember the night it happened. We were staying with Patty’s parents because our house was flooded.”
Molly’s startled gaze flew up to meet his. “Oh. During Katrina?”
