Never Coming Home (7 page)

‘And that would be?’

‘My father.’ She heard the flatness in her voice. ‘If I’d been able to deliver, then it would have been fine. But I wasn’t.’

‘Jeff wanted what from your father? Money?’

‘Not that simple.’ Kaz shook her head. ‘Jeff is a frustrated artist. He wanted my father’s patronage, to be his protégé. To be fair – and that hurts – Jeff isn’t without talent, but he likes life easy. He wasn’t prepared to apply himself. Not in the way Oliver demanded. Jeff thought he was going to cut a swathe straight to the top of the art world. My father was the route he chose. Through me, though I didn’t realise it for a long time.’

She stifled a wince at the memory. The screaming, door-slamming row when Jeff had finally thrown the truth in her face. Even after six years, and a baby together, she hadn’t seen it coming. She’d shut her eyes to so much.

Devlin’s silence somehow made it easier to talk. ‘Oliver welcomed Jeff at first. Despite all his efforts, he’d never managed to find a glimmer of promise in me. No artistic ability at all. When I brought him a son-in-law, ready to kneel at the foot of the master – Oliver was thrilled. Unfortunately Jeff didn’t take very well to kneeling, and his ambition was bigger than his talent.’ She paused, sipping wine. ‘I wanted so much to make the marriage work. When I found that I was pregnant we bumped along for a while. Jeff does love Jamie – but
 
… There were other women. In the end even I had to admit it was over. Sad, sordid, banal story.’

‘Bad luck.’

‘Bad choices. Too many assumptions. Won’t make that mistake again,’ she said firmly. She sat back, closing the subject. The conversation ball was in Devlin’s court now.

Devlin frowned. He got the message. No-go area. Her chin was up, with a tilt he’d already begun to recognise. Courage. It was setting a slow simmer in his gut – something suspiciously like anger. Jeff Elmore was a grade-A asshole, as well as a kidnapper – but there was something else here, too. ‘Your father thinks you have no artistic talent, when you have two gold medals from the Chelsea Flower Show?’ He sat back a little when she stared at him. ‘I just checked out your website,’ he defended himself. He’d wanted to know about the gardening thing, so he’d done a little fishing. And come away intrigued. ‘Designing and building a garden – that takes skill.’

There was surprise in her eyes. ‘Arranging plants and flowers – it isn’t like working in oils and canvas.’

‘Well it impresses the hell out of me – seeing as I don’t know a daisy from the hole you’d plant it in. It might not be painting, but in my book it’s art. It’s just different, that’s all.’ He saw a flicker in her eyes. Pleasure. The simmering in his gut damped down. Warm. They sat for moment, just looking at each other. Then he dragged his mind back to the matter in hand.

‘Would your father know where Jeff might be? Have they kept in contact?’

‘I wouldn’t think so. Jeff was a disappointment and Oliver doesn’t
do
disappointment.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘My father is a great man. A genius. I respect that. But there’s a certain single-mindedness. High expectations.’

Devlin eased back in his chair. ‘I guess geniuses don’t necessarily make hands-on parents either – not much time for bedtime stories and trips to the zoo?’

She looked startled. ‘I can’t begin to
imagine
Oliver at a zoo. A sculpture park maybe.’ She gave a lop-sided grin. ‘When I was seven years old I remember wishing for a dad who’d push me on the swings and tuck me up at night, but that’s not what Oliver is about. Even then, I understood that my father was different.’

Devlin digested the information, put it with a certain look in the eyes.
Understanding
didn’t stop something hurting. He was beginning to get some interesting insights into Katarina Elmore. More, probably, that she realised. She was opening up to him. At a guess, she didn’t do it often.

That was one of his particular skills, getting people to open up. Usually the setting was more – hostile.

The thought dumped him back into reality, cold turkey. He had no business sitting here, thinking warm fuzzy thoughts. He really had no business sitting here, period.

Kaz Elmore had a knack of getting to some soft underbelly that he hadn’t acknowledged any time in the last century. The length of the eyelashes flirting against her cheek might have something to do with it, but not all. There was just – something about the woman
 
…

She’d sighed. How the hell did a mere exhalation of air send something hot and sharp up under a man’s ribs?
His ribs? Who are you kidding?

‘When Jamie was born I thought for a while that Oliver was going to turn into a hands-on
granddad
.’ He saw the shame in her eyes. The memory of a fleeting envy – for her own kid. Honest, to a fault, this Mrs Elmore. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out to her. He held them still. ‘I thought he’d be outraged, that I’d been thoughtless enough to make him a grandfather, but he really took an interest. He always kept up with Jamie’s progress although he had a new partner and another daughter of his own. A new family.’

The wistfulness, that she surely wasn’t aware of, goaded him.

‘You’re certain of that? That they are a family?’

She looked up, startled. ‘Well, I haven’t seen him for quite a while
 
… the divorce
 
… and Jamie
 
…
 
’ She stopped, shaking her head. ‘It isn’t like when my mother was with him. Valentina is very quiet, a home-maker. It must be different. And he’s older.’

Devlin shrugged. Dysfunctional didn’t necessarily mend, just because it got old. If Olivier Kessel was a crap father then, he was likely still a crap father now. But Kaz Elmore had not just survived she had succeeded, without him. He took a moment to consider that. She was a determined lady, and now she was his client. C.L.I.E.N.T.

He had all he needed. He pushed back his chair, to signal that the meeting was over. Time to get the show on the road and the disturbing Mrs Elmore off the premises. Give a man room to do what he had to do.
Like figure out what the fuck he’s got himself into? Oh, yeah – that.

Kaz felt a small flutter of disappointment when Devlin got to his feet. Reluctantly she followed. Confidences were over. Devlin was back to business again. She’d told him a lot, more than she should, and he’d undoubtedly guessed a whole lot more. Yet she didn’t feel exposed. She was comfortable with him. Surprise made her frown.
Take care around this man.

‘What?’ He was watching her.

‘Uh – you didn’t answer my question, a while back,’ she improvised. ‘Is Jeff still in the States?’

He flipped a hand. ‘It’s a big place. Plenty of room to hide. D’you think that he’d stay? Would he want to?’

‘I don’t know. I would say not, but
 
… How would he get Jamie out of the country?’

‘There are ways – but a small girl isn’t like an adult. We can’t rule out that he just slipped under the radar. And got away with it. I guess cancelling her passport wasn’t the first thing on your mind.’

Kaz caught her breath. Her stomach swooped, giving her a queasy spasm. She still hadn’t grasped all the implications of this. ‘He could have just got on a plane?’

‘No one was looking for her.’

‘Because she was meant to be dead.’ Kaz shut her eyes, taking it in. ‘You’ll check on that?’

‘Of course. And I need you to give me a list of friends, family, acquaintances, anyone you think might help him, any place you think he might go.’

‘I have some old address books. I could ask – No!’ She pulled up short, realising the crater yawning in front of her. She could have jumped into it, headlong. The thought made her palms damp. ‘I can’t tell anyone about this, can I? At best they’ll think I’m unstable.’ Bitter recollection of her uncle’s scepticism piled into the sinking feeling in her stomach. ‘And if anyone does know anything, they could warn Jeff.’

‘You need to tread carefully.’ Devlin didn’t sound concerned. ‘But a little healthy curiosity about the whereabouts of your ex-husband wouldn’t look too odd. Just don’t go calling half of London.’

‘I won’t.’ She took a moment to gather herself, looking around for her bag. ‘Thank you for lunch. For everything.’

‘You’re welcome. I’ll be in touch when I have something from Hoag.’

‘Oh. Yes.’ For a second a swirl of blackness made her hesitate. ‘We will find her, won’t we?’ The qualm of doubt was hollow around her heart.

‘Maybe not in a week. Don’t worry.’ Both his hands covered hers. Then he let go. ‘We’ll work something out.’ He slid another business card across the table. ‘E-mail address, and my mobile number. You can send me the list. Let me know who you’re going to speak to – just your closest friends. I’ll take care of the rest. And I’ll follow up any leads you get.’ A hint of warning in the pitch of the voice.

‘Yes.’ She shivered as she picked up the card. ‘Thank you.’ She wrenched herself together and headed for the door.

Devlin stood back while the waiter cleared the table. The glass with her lipstick on the rim was already loaded onto the serving trolley. She’d been wearing some light, clear fragrance. He wondered how long
that
was going to hang around to bother him. It had been an interesting two hours. Stimulating. Kaz Elmore had issues. She was strong, feisty, all those I-will-survive words, but she still had issues. Some, he guessed, that she didn’t even know about. With her ex-husband for sure. And with her father, too.

Devlin snagged a cup of lukewarm coffee, before the untouched pot got hauled away, and retired to the window to brood. Seemed like Kaz Elmore had got herself tangled up with a couple of men who were major-league assholes. And was still beating herself up about it.

And now she had him.

Kaz watched the door of the tube train open and close, without really seeing it. Her mind was too full. Of Devlin, of Jeff, of her father. Her shoulders twitched impatiently. Why the hell had she dredged up that old stuff from her
childhood? This was about finding Jamie, not about her past.

She’d schooled herself not to think too much about Oliver. She’d tried to be what he wanted, not to mind when his impatience showed, not to care when he barely acknowledged her existence. He was a great man, and why should great men make time for bastard daughters, who didn’t even have talent to recommend them? The tiny part of her that had longed for her father to look at her with approval, love,
something
, was part of another fairy tale. It was a neediness that shamed her, one that Oliver would have found completely incomprehensible. She was past that now. The search for a hero was well and truly over. ‘No more knights in shining armour.’

A startled grunt from the man sitting opposite her jerked her back to reality. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

She’d talked too much to Devlin about things that didn’t matter, but it was no use worrying about it now. The man had skills. A small shiver trickled along her spine. Skills, and a fabulous mouth. And she’d insisted she was going to work with him. Which she was, so too bad for both of them.

Next time she’d hold her guard higher.

Kaz tracked her mother down at the select dress agency she ran with two friends. Luckily the tiny shop on the King’s Road was empty. Suzanne had her arms full with the billowing skirts of a lace-and-taffeta ball gown.

Kaz closed the shop door and leaned against it.

‘I hired Devlin. He’ll help us find Jamie.’

‘Darling, I’m so glad.’ Suzanne dumped the dress and crossed the shop to give her daughter a quick, hard hug.

Kaz searched her face. ‘It is the right thing, isn’t it? Going after this?’ she asked, suddenly uncertain.

‘What else can you do? If Devlin’s story is true, and I think that it is, despite what Phil says, then he has some kind of stake in this, too. If it’s a scam, you still need to know. It’s a case of giving him enough rope, to see if he’ll hang himself.’

After a moment Kaz nodded. ‘He’d already found out who the other little girl was. She went missing a couple of days before the accident.’

‘Oh no!’

‘Yes.’ Kaz exhaled shakily. ‘His partner is investigating that end. Devlin knows what he’s doing, Mum. He’s focused and professional and I
 
… We have a deal. One week.’ Her hands clenched and she moaned softly. ‘What can we do in one week?’

‘It sounds as if Devlin has done quite a bit already,’ Suzanne said briskly. ‘If we must, we’ll find the money to employ him, for however long it takes. I’ll sell another of your father’s precious sketches. There’s a dealer in Singapore who’s always pestering me for more. And it will annoy your father, which is a bonus.’ She paused. ‘There are other things than money, though.’ She shot her daughter an ambiguous look as she bent to pick up the abandoned gown. ‘I wasn’t always faithful to your father, you know.’

‘Mum?’

Suzanne shook out the dress and reached for a hangar, the light of reminiscence in her eye. ‘The way we lived – you know how it was. There were always beautiful, creative people around. I remember
 
… there was one boy in particular, Jed. He was part of the group at the palazzo, in Venice, another artist.’ Her smile softened. ‘Your father disliked him intensely. Jed was very talented. He’d already had a couple of shows, in Paris and London. I think Oliver realised that I was more than fond of him, even as self-absorbed as he was.’