Page 52 of Capturing You
The man beside Graham was a few inches shorter and considerably older. “His name was…Johnson or Jackson. Something like that. He passed away a few years ago.”
“What did he do for work?”
“No idea. All I ever saw him do was drink coffee and yell at the TV over the bar at the Salty Dog, but I guess he probably owned a business at one point.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I guess because most of these people do, or did, if my memory serves.”
The next person looked even older, and Brooklynn didn’t know his name or his profession. Then came Forbes’s father.
“Did he own a business?” she asked. “Charles Ballentine?”
“Yup.”
Forbes didn’t offer more, though it surprised him that Brooklynn didn’t realize Forbes’s father was the founder of Ballentine Enterprises, which built industrial properties all over New England.
Forbes remained the largest single shareholder and held a seat on the board, even though he only attended meetings as a voice on the phone. Nobody knew Forbes Ballentine was the same person as the historian called Ford Baker.
Maybe the caution was no longer necessary, but the people who killed his family had done it for a reason. Grandmother feared Forbes could be their next victim.
Dad stood beside a tall, elegant woman.
“That’s my mother, Evelyn Wright.”
“Oh.” Forbes studied the blonde, who was probably around the same age as Brooklynn was now. She was tall, like her daughter, but very slender where Brooklynn had curves Forbes should try harder not to notice. “You have her eyes.”
“So they say.”
Whereas Evelyn had a sort of elegant, regal beauty, Brooklynn’s beauty seemed more natural, as if it emanated from her very being.
And there was a thought he’d keep to himself. “Did your mother own a business?”
“She was an interior designer, though I think she mostly did it for fun. She was involved in a lot of clubs and events in town, though, back then.”
He tapped the man beside Evelyn. “Your father?”
“No. Dad’s not in the picture.”
“Did he own a business?”
“Not back then. He worked for the government.”
That information pricked a memory.
We know you’re working with the government. We need a name.
That was it.
Just one line, uttered by one of the murderers just moments before Dad was shot.
What had Dad said?
Forbes couldn’t remember. But his heart thumped as if he’d hit on something important.
Was it possible Brooklynn’s father had been involved? “What did he do?”
She sat back, her head tilting to one side. She studied Forbes as if she couldn’t figure him out.
