Page 113 of The Formation of Us
The man propelled himself off the desk and across the room, then back to his desk, his dark eyes flashing with fury. “Stone cautioned me to think of my career, and warned that I would be ruined if anyone saw me in the badlands. But like a jealous dog, he was guarding his bone.”
Duke’s scowl deepened. “Cuvier, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but my daughter is missing, and I need any information I can use to get her back.”
The lawyer stopped pacing. “Are you or Mrs. Grayson aware of a project by the city of Syracuse to change the badlands section into a theater district?”
“No.” Duke looked at Faith, but she shook her head. Her mother hadn’t bothered with the newspaper because she, and women like her, weren’t welcome to participate in social events.
“I suspected as much.” The lawyer began pacing again. “Judge Stone started a renewal project over twenty years ago. It evolved slowly, and was nearly lost on several occasions. But the judge pressed on for years, insisting our city needed to clean up the badlands and build an area that would attract investors and new business. I admired him for being so civic-minded, and even did the legal work for several properties he purchased in that area.”
“Why would he want my mother’s house if he owned so many properties?” Faith asked, suspecting the lawyer was unaware it was a brothel.
“Because your mother’s property sits in the middle of the proposed theater district, and it’s one of the last properties still owned by the resident.”
“Which makes the property more valuable and of interest to Stone,” Duke said.
“Exactly” The lawyer gave him a curt nod. “A bank or investor looking to build a business in the area would offer a good bit of money for the property.”
“Are you saying my mother could have sold the broth— property for a lot of money?”
The lawyer nodded. “She could have made a small fortune. I assumed she was waiting to sell in order to gain an advantage.”
“Are you in possession of the deed then?” Duke asked.
“Rose kept a safe deposit box at the bank and gave me a key,” he said. “To my knowledge she kept the deed there.”
Finally Faith new the location of the elusive deed and what the key in her mother’s guestbook was for, but all she could think about was how close her mother had been to owning that little house with the porch and rose garden. Had she known about the city’s renewal plan? Or had she died never realizing she was so close to gaining her freedom?
It sickened Faith, and it broke her heart that one powerful and corrupt man could hurt so many people.
“Give it to him,” she said to the lawyer, wanting nothing more than to get Cora back. “I’ll sign the deed over to him.”
“The hell you will.” Duke’s fierce scowl made her heart trip.
“Duke, I want to get Cora back and go home.”
“We’re not giving in to that greedy bastard. I’ll find Cora, and we’ll sell the property, but not to the judge.”
“But he’ll come after us again.”
“And he’ll deal with me this time.”
“He’s heartless and conniving. My mother tried to stand up to him and it caused her death.”
“What?” Shock and rage filled the lawyer’s dark eyes. “Did you witness this?”
“My aunt Iris did. Mama was arguing with Stone over the brothel, and it enraged her when he threatened to take Cora. She attacked him. Maybe Stone didn’t mean for her to go over the railing, but she did, and Iris said he didn’t try to stop her fall.”
“Dear God . . .” The lawyer’s throat worked, and he turned his back. The room was dead silent for several long seconds.
Without a word, the lawyer strode to a file cabinet and pulled out a large envelope. He spread the contents on his desk, and picked through several papers before finding what he was looking for. His eyes were misty when he handed the paper to Duke. “This is the address for Stone’s mistress. I handled all his personal business, so I’m aware that he supports this woman. It’s the only place I can think he’d be able to take your daughter without answering a lot of uncomfortable questions. His mistress could easily keep the girl for him. Stone has court this afternoon. I would suggest you pay a call now while I have a long overdue talk with your wife.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “Faith, I think . . . I’m fairly certain you’re my daughter.”
His words sucked all the oxygen from the room, and Faith gripped the upholstered arms of her chair, fighting a dizzying rush of disbelief. She stared at Steven Cuvier, at his bronze skin and his almond shaped eyes and lanky body, and knew this man was her father. And the reason he looked familiar was because Adam resembled him.
A sudden pounding, then the rattle of the doorknob broke the silence in the room and startled a gasp from Faith.
“Steven! Are you in there?”
Faith recognized Stone’s grating voice, and was glad Cuvier had locked the door. “It’s the judge,” she whispered.
