Page 10 of Roark
She nodded. “Three days after he received this letter.”
“How do you know when he received it?”
“My father was very organized, to the point he had an accordion folder with dates where he filed his business mail. I found this in there.”
“Because he didn’t want your mother to see it.”
“They weren’t having an affair.” Her tone was adamant, and he was given a glimpse of the fire buried beneath the softness.
“My mother was a widow, but I’m assuming you already knew that.”
She shifted slightly in her chair—trying to regain her composure, he figured. “Why would you assume I knew anything about your mother?”
“Because you didn’t come all this way just to visit the place your parents loved. You found this letter, saw my mum’s name and return address and wanted to find out who she was. A simple Google search would’ve provided enough preliminary information. But not my private cell number. The fact that you have that tells me you did some digging, very deep digging. The logical next question is why? If not an affair you want to keep your mother from finding out about, then what?”
“I want to know how exactly they knew each other.”
He noted she didn’t address his comments about her digging to find his number. He’d let it pass, for now. “Why is that important if you don’t believe it was an affair?”
“Timing. This letter arrives, and from what I can tell after going through everything my father owned in his work and home office, it was the only letter he’d ever received from your mother. And three days later, he’s dead.”
“But he died in the US. My mother hasn’t been to the States in years.”
“Perhaps she knows someone else in the States. Perhaps she was planning a trip to see my father.”
Roark had had enough. He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, and this letter means nothing to me. So, I’ll bid you a good day, Ms. Rayder.” He stood and was about to walk away when she grabbed his arm. There wasn’t a bolt of heat, or even a pinch of shock, but there was something, he thought as he looked down at her fingers on the dark sleeve of his suit jacket.
“I believe this letter’s connected to my father’s death,” she said, looking up at him with enough sincerity and banked passion in her eyes to have his mind warring with his body for a few seconds.
“I disagree.” He eased his arm out of her grasp. “Don’t call me again.”
To her credit, she didn’t try to stop him again. She didn’t speak another word. He didn’t turn back to see what she was doing, not until he was at the entryway, and when he looked back, she was on her phone. Roark shook his head and tried not to think about that letter or anything Tamika Rayder had said.
The Dynasty Clubhouse was located down a winding path behind the manor and could accommodate up to twenty-four guests. There were six sleeping rooms, several lounge areas, a formal dining room, extensive gardens, a private pool and more space than Roark needed on this solo trip.
Even the room where Geoff had left Roark’s bags was enormous. It was the size of the entire first floor of his flat in London. There was a grand four-post king-size bed on a platform to the far left, a work area with an antique-looking desk in the center and a cozy seating area facing a second set of windows. A fully stocked bar with leather stools, a walk-in closet and a luxurious bathroom.
Again, too much space, but for now, his home away from home. He removed his suit jacket and he walked across plush beige carpet leading into the sitting area. Two couches faced each other, a large square glass-top table between them. A fireplace with a flat-screen television mounted on the wall above was in one direction. The wall of windows on the other. Roark chose to sit on the couch facing the windows and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Had he really come all the way out here just to see that letter?
Of course not. He’d come because he’d needed to get away from London for a while, to clear the fog that had settled over his mind in the past few weeks. After two days at the office and the reading of the will, he knew he wasn’t ready to be back at work full-time, nor was he ready to deal with all that was on his shoulders as the head of his family. He had no choice about the latter, but where work was concerned, he’d notified his assistant that he’d be working remotely until further notice.
As for Ridge and Suri, in an effort to abide by his promise to keep them in the loop about everything, he’d sent a text last night, explaining he needed some time alone. Only Ridge had responded this morning, telling him to take all the time he needed. Suri was still angry with him about the autopsy. Roark didn’t blame her. He’d been more than a little annoyed when Cade and Linc had kept information about his mother away from him. But he also didn’t regret keeping the secret from his siblings. He’d planned to tell them everything eventually, he’d just wanted to get the full story first.
At any rate, the meeting with their criminal attorney, Ed Burrows and Detective Gibbons had taken place on Thursday, the day before yesterday. To Roark’s dismay the police hadn’t wanted a notarized affidavit. That was just as well because during the meeting, Roark, Ridge and Suri had each declined to answer anything other than the question of where they’d been during the timeframe in question. Gibbons hadn’t been happy about their refusal to cooperate while he’d attempted to incriminate them, but Roark hadn’t given a damn. They’d left the meeting, and Gibbons had been advised any further questions would go through their solicitor.
Still, the accusation weighed on Roark, that and the fact that he still had no clue as to who’d want to kill his mother.
And as if that weren’t enough to be dealing with, there was Tamika Rayder.
On a huff, Roark lay his head against the back of the couch and scrubbed his hands over his face. He needed a drink. It was only a little after noon, but still, he desperately wanted a drink.
His ringing phone probably saved him from an early afternoon bender. “This is Roark,” he answered after grabbing his jacket and retrieving the phone from the inside pocket.
Cade immediately began speaking. “Hey, just checking in with an update. I spoke to McGee about the fire late yesterday afternoon, and he didn’t have anything new.” Roark immediately sat up. “The fire chief doesn’t want to go public with an arson declaration just yet. I suspect that’s because it’s also a murder investigation.”
His temples throbbed, because this was exactly what he’d come to the manor to get away from.
A part of him had felt like he was abandoning his family during their time of need, but another part had acknowledged he was no good to anybody in the state he was currently in. He couldn’t erase the picture of flames coming out of the windows of his familial home from his mind. The house’s once-pristine white stone now had black stains surrounding those windows, stretching down toward the ground like vicious claws. So, no matter how far he got away from the house in Hyde Park, he still had to face the facts.
