Page 16 of Almost Paradise

Drake

For once Wyatt stays quiet, but I can feel his eyes on me. I pretend to be engrossed by looking out the window, but the truth is, I’m barely keeping it together. Leaving her in the kitchen was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I know she didn’t want to break down in front of me. I wanted to offer her comfort, but she’d never accept it.

I’m also waging a war within myself, and I didn’t want her to see the anger brewing inside of me. I can’t bear to think of what I discovered today. I need to tackle and deal with it, and I will.

“I’m sorry, Drakey.” One of the last things my father ever said to me. I had no idea what he was talking about at the time, but could this be it?

My father is dead. I can’t confront him, and I can’t demand an explanation. Right now, I need to focus on what I can fix or at least handle. I need to speak with Scarlett. The guilt of letting this go on for weeks hits, and I know she’s not going to be happy. Not about me having a child with someone else or with me keeping this from her for over two weeks. She’ll stick by me, though. I know she will. She’s been my best support for the past six months, but before I speak to her, there’s someone else I need to talk to first.

“Audrey was something,” Wyatt says, pulling me out of my thoughts. For once, I’m grateful he’s not talking about the shitstorm that my life has turned into. “Don’t let her nerdy appearance fool you. She threatened to beat my sorry, baby-stealing ass while you guys were gone.” He cackles and pushes his glasses back the same way Audrey did earlier. “She’s what? Five foot nothing?” He throws his head back and laughs. “She called me a scuzzy lawyer under her breath.” He laughs again, but my mood is much too dark for me to tease him. “I told her I’ve never stolen a baby before in my life. She wasn’t moved.”

When I don’t respond, he takes the hint and shuts up. I told the driver to take me home, but my father’s last words flash through my mind again.

“Bertram,” I tell him, “take me to Howard Banks. Right now.”

You’d never know Howard Banks is a multimillionaire from the look of his house. It’s a plain two-level ranch in a working-class neighborhood. In fact, I seem to remember my dad telling me that this is the same neighborhood that he grew up in. I don’t have time to look around once Bertram stops the car. I hop out before he can open my door for me, and Wyatt follows. I don’t bother telling him to wait in the car. I know he won’t, and he might just be the only thing that stops me from committing assault right now.

The door opens immediately after I knock, and Mary Banks greets me with a warm but questioning smile. I barge in without being invited, only to stop after seeing three young girls watching television in the living room.

“Drake,” Mary says, “what a nice surprise. Can I get you something to—”

I hold my hand up. I glance at the kids, and even in all my anger, I don’t want to cause a scene in front of them. Mary runs a nervous hand through her salt and pepper hair and gestures for me to follow her.

She takes me to the back of the house into a small office. Wyatt follows and closes the door behind us.

“Where is Howard?” I ask, getting right to the point. “I need to speak with him now.”

“He’s on his way to Alaska,” she says. “He’s going ice fishing with our sons and sons-in-law.”

“Get him on the phone. Now,” I say. She almost takes a step back at my sharp tone. Then she catches herself, stands straight, and gives a nervous laugh.

“He’s not going back to work,” she says. “He’s retired.”

“This isn’t about him coming back to work. I need to speak to him.” I bite back the threats I want to make. One thing I know for sure is that if Howard was in cahoots with my father, his wife knows nothing about it. She’s never worked a day in her life, and he treats her like she’s only capable of bearing his children and keeping his home in order.

“He’s on a plane right now,” she says.

Not fully believing her, I find Howard’s cell phone in my contacts. The phone goes directly to voicemail.

“You let your husband know I’m looking for him,” is all I say to her. I head for the door, but Mary runs past me to block it.

“What is this about, Drake? I’ve known you since you were a kid, and you come barging in here looking for Howard. Why?” She wrings her hands while she waits for me to answer.

I take a step closer to her. Wyatt approaches and puts a hand on my arm. I yank it away from him. “It’s come to my attention that your husband did something he shouldn’t have—”

“Whatever he did, it was at the direction of your father,” Mary says. “Whatever this is about, it’s not Howard’s fault—”

“Nevertheless, if he did, he’s going to pay the price.” I go around her and leave the office and her house.

The car pulls up to our palatial estate, and I tell Bertram to stop at the main house. It’s situated in a quiet Boston suburb that’s only about a fifteen-minute drive from our headquarters. I don’t wait for the driver to open the door for me. I let myself out and tell him I won’t be needing him for the rest of the day.

There’s no one around when I go inside. The place is massive, and I don’t see a single employee milling around. Maybe she gave everyone the day off. She’s done that a few times since my father passed. I think she just wants time alone.

The downstairs is darker than it usually is. The only light is what’s coming from outside, and that isn’t much since it’s gray and overcast today. Despite the lack of staff, the place is spotless.

“Mom!” I yell into the empty first floor. The house is over thirty thousand square feet. Since she’s not answering me, I go upstairs to her bedroom. It’s more the size of a large apartment. I knock but don’t hear anything. I turn the doorknob and go in. There’s a room before the actual bedroom. There’s a couch and coffee table, and the walls are bookshelves.

She’s not here, so I continue into the bedroom. Unlike the rest of the pristine house, her bedroom is a bit of a mess. There are clothes on a chaise and some have fallen to the floor. I can see her stirring in the bed. I go to her, and she smells awful. There’s a half-empty bottle of vodka on her nightstand and an empty glass. I take the bottle, go to the master bathroom, and dump the rest.

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