The Forgiven Read online

  The lawyer nodded sympathetically. “Then as I see it, you’ve got two options. You can agree to the DNA test—” He raised a hand to cut off Alex’s protest. “You can agree to the DNA test and if the results disprove Miss Cross’s accusations, as we both know they will, then she’ll have no recourse but to leave you alone.”

  “And just what do I tell Taryn?” Alex asked angrily.

  “Don’t tell her anything. There are a number of ways to get a DNA sample without anyone being the wiser.”

  Yes, Alex thought. Naomi had suggested much the same thing to him the night before, but it still seemed deceptive, another potential for driving a wedge between him and his daughter.

  He’d known Naomi for less than twenty-four hours, and already she’d wreaked havoc in his life. “I don’t like being put in the position of having to deceive my daughter.”

  “I realize that, but it might be the best way to get Naomi Cross off your back,” Foley pointed out.

  “You said I had two options,” Alex said grimly. “What’s the other?”

  “We could file a restraining order against her. That would keep her away from Taryn—and you—until she gives up and goes home. Of course, it would also be a matter of public record. No way to keep it a secret.”

  Alex turned to stare out the window. In the distance, sunlight glinted on the river, and he could just make out the silhouette of a lone barge steaming downstream. The city looked beautiful today, all golden and sun drenched. This was the New Orleans he’d remembered on those cold, rainy days in London.

  There’d been a time when Alex couldn’t wait to get out of New Orleans, when he’d thought this was the last place he could ever make his home. He’d thought this city had been ruined for him. But even though his parents were dead, he had roots here, and if he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit that his daughter wasn’t the only reason he’d wanted to come home after ten years. He’d been in exile, if only in his own mind, for nearly a decade, and Alex had come to a point in his life when he’d decided it was finally time to put the past to rest. To finally put Aubree’s memory behind him.

  Sometimes he still had a hard time understanding how things had gone so wrong between them. They’d married too soon, he supposed, still believing that the physical attraction that had been almost overwhelming between them could overcome any obstacle.

  It was an old story. They’d been young and stupid, mistaking lust for love, and when the bloom had faded from the romance, there’d been nothing much left but bitterness. And an innocent child caught in the middle. A beautiful little girl who’d deserved so much better than either of them had given her.

  He couldn’t help comparing his and Aubree’s selfishness to the way Naomi Cross had looked last night when she’d talked about her children—the baby she’d thought had died at birth and the other little girl who had been abducted from a school playground. No question that she’d loved them. No question that she would have sacrificed anything, even her own life, for them.

  Alex couldn’t imagine anyone going through what she’d been through in her life, and yet the ravages of her despair had left her face oddly untouched, except for her eyes. Her eyes betrayed her sadness, her vulnerability, and somehow that made her even more appealing.

  She had the power to bring him and his daughter great pain, but Alex couldn’t find it in himself to wish her any harm.

  He returned to his chair and sat down. “Hold off on the restraining order,” he told Foley. “Let me try talking to her again.”

  “Maybe you should let me talk to her,” Foley suggested.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Foley gave a brief nod. “You do that. In the meantime, I’m afraid you’ve got bigger problems than Naomi Cross.”

  Alarm traced up Alex’s backbone. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re not going to like this,” Foley said grimly. “But I was at the Barrister’s Club last night,” he said, referring to an exclusive private institution whose membership had boasted, for over a hundred years, the most prominent lawyers, judges and politicians in the city. “Brace yourself, Alex, but it looks like Joseph Bellamy may be preparing to go after custody of Taryn again.”

  Alex swore violently. “How can he do that? On what grounds? Taryn’s been with me for the past ten years. What judge in his right mind would award custody to Bellamy?”

  “I don’t have to remind you of the clout that old man still wields in this town.” Foley glanced toward the door, as if afraid someone might be standing just outside, eavesdropping. He leaned toward Alex, lowering his voice. “Listen, this is strictly on the q.t., you understand? There’s an unspoken gentlemen’s agreement that nothing, and I do mean nothing, that goes on inside that club ever leaves those sacred halls. Wilson used his family connections to get me in. If word gets around that I’ve got a problem keeping my mouth shut, we’ll both be booted out. And that, my friend, would be very bad for business.”

  Alex thought it all sounded like a bunch of childish nonsense, but he’d been in the corporate world long enough to recognize the value of social clubs and high-powered cliques. The oil business wasn’t all that different. “All right,” he said impatiently. “Just tell me what you heard.”

  Foley cast another glance toward the door. “Apparently, Judge Bellamy has been spending a great deal of time sequestered in meetings with the other senior partners at his firm. Some of the associates at the lower end of the food chain over there seem to think time and resources are being diverted from other, more important cases in order to mollycoddle one of the founding partners.”

  Alex didn’t doubt it. Joseph Bellamy was used to getting his way, no matter who else had to suffer. Aubree had come by that trait honestly.

  “Yesterday, they had another closed-door conference with an outside attorney named Griffin Douglas,” Foley said. “Name ring a bell?”

  Alex frowned. “No, should it?”

  Forgetting to worry about eavesdroppers, Foley settled back more comfortably in his chair. “Griffin Douglas has testified numerous times before congressional committees on Capitol Hill regarding the rights of grandparents in cases of divorce, parental neglect and abuse. Last year, he lobbied in Baton Rouge to get a bill passed here in Louisiana that would guarantee grandparents visitation rights. He’s devoted his entire professional career to this cause. There’s no one in the country more savvy—or more ruthless—on the subject. If he’s agreed to take the case, then the judge has called in some major markers.”

  Alex experienced a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “He’s that good?”

  “The man’s brilliant. You put his expertise with the judge’s connections and you’ve got trouble, Alex. Big time. Bellamy is on a first-name basis with every trial judge in Orleans Parish. With Griffin Douglas on board, this could get ugly.”

  Alex rose again, but instead of going to the window, he started pacing back and forth across the thick carpet.

  “There’s something else.”

  “God,” Alex said, shoving his hand through his hair. “What else could there be?”

  Foley’s expression had grown very sober. “One of the associates let slip that all that old business about Aubree’s death is going to be dredged up. Designed, of course, to assassinate your character.”

  Anger warred with desperation. “That was ten years ago, for God’s sake, and I was cleared. I wasn’t even in the country. Doesn’t anyone is this damn town ever forget?”

  “You know better than that,” Foley chided. “In New Orleans, everyone knows everyone else, and they don’t forget a damn thing about your past. At least not for long,” he said with a touch of irony.

  “I guess I’m beginning to realize that,” Alex said bitterly.

  Foley’s gaze was sympathetic. “If you were the child’s mother, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Paternal rights have come a long way, but there are still some old-fashioned judges down here in the South who think a ch
ild, especially a teenage girl, would be best served in a stable home with a female role model. Someone who is the epitome of propriety. Someone, say, like Gwen Bellamy.”

  Alex stared at him in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding. Let me remind you that Gwen Bellamy was Aubree’s stepmother. The two of them couldn’t stand each other, and she’s never shown the slightest interest in Taryn. On top of that, the woman is neurotic, a chain-smoker and a habitual liar.”

  “None of which is going to matter one bit when Griffin Douglas gets through with her. She’ll come off like the reincarnation of Mother Teresa.”

  “You make it sound hopeless,” Alex said gloomily. “Like there’s no way to fight this.”

  “Oh, we’ll fight it all right,” Foley assured him. “Make no mistake about that. But in the meantime—” he hesitated for just a heartbeat “—ever given any thought to remarrying?”

  Alex gave him a quelling look. “Very funny.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.” When Alex glared at him, Foley shrugged. “All I’m saying is that if you could provide the same kind of home situation for Taryn that the Bellamys are offering, the judge might have a harder time convincing even one of his buddies on the bench to remove her from your custody. Think about it for a minute, Alex. Aside from all that old business about Aubree, you’re a single man who’s dragged your daughter halfway around the world and back for nearly ten years. That’s not a stable environment.”

  “We lived in London,” Alex said through gritted teeth. “That’s hardly dragging her halfway around the world.”

  “But you weren’t just in London,” Foley reminded him. “Your job required a fair amount of travel.”

  “And I always took Taryn with me.”

  “What about when she started to go to school? You had to leave her with Louise then, didn’t you?”

  Louise Wheeler had been Taryn’s nanny since birth, but as Taryn had grown older, her role had developed into that of housekeeper. She’d worked for the Bellamys for years, had, in fact, been Aubree’s nanny. When Alex had made plans after Aubree’s death to take Taryn back to London with him, Louise had offered her services. Everything considered, it had seemed like a good idea to Alex not to separate his daughter from everyone she knew, even though he’d been worried that Louise’s first loyalty would always remain with Joseph Bellamy. However, her devotion to Taryn was undeniable, and she’d been a godsend during those first difficult months when Taryn had such a terrible time accepting her mother’s death.

  “I left her with Louise on occasion, but never for more than a few days at a time. I had to make a living,” Alex said in exasperation. “I’m a single parent—”

  “My point exactly,” Foley cut in. “Look, Alex, you don’t have to convince me you’ve been a good father. I know you’ve done right by Taryn. But I’m just trying to give you a taste of what to expect.”

  “Thanks,” he said dryly.

  “And that’s not all. If you’ve got women in your past, and somehow I doubt you’ve been celibate for the past decade...” Foley trailed off, giving Alex a knowing look. “Then you can bet they’ll be paraded across the witness stand to your detriment. While Gwen Bellamy is portrayed as a saint, you’ll come off looking like a cross between Don Juan and the Marquis de Sade. And that’s if you’re lucky, my friend.”

  * * *

  NAOMI STOOD across the street, catty-corner from St. Anne’s Academy for Girls and watched the parade of luxury automobiles inch around the circular driveway as parents and nannies picked up their children after school. It would seem to the casual observer that all the students at St. Anne’s came from well-to-do backgrounds, but Naomi knew that appearances could be deceiving. Even though she’d had to scrimp and save to afford the tuition, she’d sent Sadie to Fairhaven Academy because she’d wanted her child to have not only a good education, but a safe environment.

  Even ten years later, the irony of her decision was devastating. It was still hard for Naomi not to blame herself for what had happened. If she’d sent Sadie to a different school, if she’d been there that afternoon to pick up her daughter the moment class was dismissed...

  She tried to block out all those painful images as she watched the school. St. Anne’s was located in historic Uptown, a few blocks over from Tulane University. Naomi had parked half a block away and walked to her current observation spot, where she could see not only the front of the school but the wrought iron pedestrian gate that opened directly onto a shady side street. A park, dotted with dozens of statues and historic markers, as well as pigeons, was located directly behind her, and she could hear children laughing somewhere in the distance. Naomi didn’t think anyone would take much notice of a lone woman milling about.

  Several kids had already exited through the side gate of St. Anne’s, heading off in various directions, but after a few moments, pedestrian traffic, as well as the line of cars in front of the school, started to thin, and Naomi had still seen no sign of Taryn.

  It was possible, of course, that her daughter had come and gone and Naomi hadn’t recognized her. She’d seen only one picture of Taryn, but she’d been certain she would be able to spot her, even in a crowd of students dressed in identical school uniforms.

  In spite of all the trees, it was hot on the sidewalk and Naomi could feel her cotton blouse sticking to her back as she waited. After another few minutes passed and the last car had driven away from the school, she decided she might as well go back to her air-conditioned suite at the Spencer. For whatever reason, she’d missed Taryn, and there was nothing she could do now but come back tomorrow.

  But just as she started to head back to her Jeep, the wrought iron side gate swung open and a girl stepped through. Naomi couldn’t see her face clearly, but she knew instinctively it was Taryn.

  The girl was tall and slender, with a sweep of glossy dark hair and a natural grace that made her seem older than her years. She was very beautiful. To Naomi’s eyes, she was perfect.

  Her heartbeat quickened at the sight of her. Overcome with sudden emotion, Naomi had to blink back tears. This was her daughter. Her baby. A miracle when Naomi had given up believing in miracles a long time ago.

  As if sensing her scrutiny, Taryn glanced across the street, her gaze, it seemed to Naomi, meeting hers. For a moment, she wondered what she would do if Taryn came over to her. Would she blurt out the truth? Make up some lie?

  Naomi almost wished Taryn would come to confront her, so that she could see her up close. So that she could reach out and touch her. So that she could whisper on a tremulous breath, “I’m your mother, Taryn, and I’ll never leave you.”

  But now was not the time for such a stunning revelation. Taryn could not be made to suffer for Naomi’s impulsiveness. Everything would have to be handled just right if Naomi were to have any kind of relationship with her daughter in the future.

  Taryn’s gaze scanned the park behind Naomi, then moved up the street. She appeared to be waiting for someone. There was a bus stop on the opposite side of the street from the school and, after a moment, Taryn crossed the intersection and sat down on the bench.

  She was even closer to Naomi now. All Naomi had to do was cross the street, too, and sit down on the bench beside her. She could pretend to be waiting for a bus. She wouldn’t stay long, just a few moments, just long enough to say something to Taryn so that she could hear her daughter’s voice. What harm would there be in that?

  Her heart thudding in anticipation, Naomi stepped into the street, then jumped back, startled, when a city bus lumbered up to the intersection and stopped. On the street to her left, mere inches from where she stood, a car screeched to a halt, as if abruptly caught by the light. Naomi automatically turned at the sound.

  It was only later that she reflected on how perfect the timing had been. The bus chugging across the intersection had completely cut her off from the activity on the other side of the street. There was no one to witness, no time to even scream, as a man came out of the park and grabbed her
from behind.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Stunned, Naomi tried to fight him off, but the surprise of his attack had caught her off guard and crippled her reflexes. Before she even knew what had happened, he’d gripped her tightly around the waist and clapped a hand over her mouth. He shoved her toward the curb, where the back door of a car stood open. Thrusting her inside, he slammed the door in her face.

  Heart pounding in terror, Naomi jerked frantically at the door handle, then threw her whole weight against the door. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, she thought. Is this what Sadie had felt? This mind-numbing terror? The disbelief? She’d been just a child when she’d been abducted, helpless and tiny...

  A tinted Plexiglas panel separated the front seat from the back, and Naomi pounded on the divider with both fists. “Let me out! Please!”

  But the car pulled away from the curb, and for the first time, Naomi realized she wasn’t alone in the back seat. An older man, as silent and still as a statue, watched her from the shadowy corner. Something about his silence, the way he stared at her without blinking, made fear bubble up inside her again.

  Naomi glanced around, frantic to find a way out. She beat on the Plexiglas divider again. “Stop this car!” she screamed. “Let me out!”

  She turned back to her silent captor. “Who are you?” she asked desperately. “What do you want with me?”

  Still he said nothing, just continued to stare at her until gooseflesh prickled along Naomi’s arms.

  As the car raced through the intersection, she threw herself against the door again. The bus had pulled away, and she could see Taryn still sitting on the bench. For a moment, Naomi could have sworn their gazes met, lingered, but then the car whisked by, and Taryn was lost from her sight.