Page 3 of Roark
Albert and Bernard were technically Roark’s cousins, as their father and Roark’s grandfather were brothers, but they were senior members of the family and as such were given the respect of a title before their names. Just as Linc’s daughters called Roark “Uncle Roark.” Respect was something branded into the minds of all the Donovan children from day one.
Uncle Bernard agreed with a nod. “And smart too. I’ve seen the financial reports from Donovan International. You and Dane are building something great there.” That was said with the pride of a Senior Donovan, for the son he’d just gotten to know in the past couple of years, and for Roark, whom they’d all kept tabs on since his father’s death.
“Thanks, Uncle Bernard. We’ve been working really hard on developing innovative techniques, and we’re starting to see some success.” Those words were easy for Roark to say. Business had always been easy for Roark.
“Carrying on the legacy, that’s what it’s all about,” Uncle Albert added. “I’ve got grandkids, Bernard’s got grandkids. Our children are all married and branching off into their businesses. That’s what our great-grandfather wanted. It’s what Gabe and Maxine wanted. The three of you have to carry on for them. You have to keep the family going here.”
“Yes, sir,” Roark replied, accepting yet another responsibility to carry. He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and immediately reached for it. “I should take this,” he said with an absent glance at the screen.
Uncle Albert stood, clapping a hand on Roark’s arm. “Don’t let everything be about business, Roark. Enjoy your family while you can.”
Because tomorrow wasn’t promised.
Uncle Albert hadn’t said those last words, but Roark knew how the saying ended. He knew, because his mother had said it often after his father’s death. Just as she’d been sure to keep their small family as close to her as she possibly could, until she couldn’t anymore.
“I will, Uncle Albert. I promise.” But Roark didn’t know how far that promise was going to go. Right now, he couldn’t see past his grief to do much more than handle the most mundane of business tasks, let alone think about how he was going to keep his family together. And by the time he’d gotten out of the main hall and into the foyer of the building, his phone had stopped ringing.
“Hey, Roark.”
After swiping the screen to see the call had come from a number he didn’t recognize, Roark looked up at the sound of his name. He pushed his phone back into his pocket and walked across the room to where Linc and his other cousin Cade were standing.
Cade was on the phone with his back turned to them, but Linc reached out and clapped a hand onto Roark’s shoulder when he was close. “He’s on the phone with Investigator McGee. They went back over the scene this morning, using the dogs to see if they can identify an accelerant.”
Linc and Cade also wore black suits, white shirts and orange ties. In fact, every member of the family had been asked to wear something in that color scheme in honor of Maxine. As he thought of that now, he recalled Jade and Noelle had been wearing a wrist corsage made with the same orange roses that adorned his mother’s casket.
“Why didn’t he call me? I specifically told him to call me with any developments,” Roark said when Linc’s words registered in his mind.
Linc let his hand fall from Roark’s shoulder as he nodded. “And we told him not to bother you with it today. The only reason I’m telling you now is because they think they found something.”
Roark didn’t like that there’d been a concerted effort to not tell him what was going on with his mother’s case, but wasn’t going to argue that point here today. Besides, Cade was an FBI agent; he could obviously get more information than Roark would be privy to, even though Cade’s specialty was profiling and not fire investigation.
Cade turned to them, tucking his phone into his pocket. “Gasoline,” he told them with a solemn look.
Linc smirked. “Not very original.”
Rage clawed at Roark. “In the house. How did someone get into the house and pour enough gasoline around to torch the entire second floor? There’s a top-notch security system that wasn’t disturbed in any way.”
“Yeah, I know.” Cade showed no outward reaction, but Roark knew that was because he was in work mode. “McGee’s gonna continue his investigation, but it looks like he may be turning it over to the homicide detectives at some point.”
Cade’s words were bland, and Linc followed them with a concerned look, while Roark felt like exploding. Anger poured into every crevice of his body, inching out the grief that had taken up permanent residence since the night he’d received the call that had changed his life.
“I’ve got some contacts within the MPD too.” Cade may have worked primarily in the US, but he knew the ins and outs of all the law enforcement agencies over here such as the Metropolitan Police Department. “I’ll be on the phone with them first thing tomorrow to see if he can stick his nose in before McGee finishes with his report.”
Cade had also gotten the autopsy report expedited. Roark’s fists were balled so tight the muscles in his arms began to ache.
Linc slid a hand into the front pocket of his pants. “Have you talked to Ridge and Suri about all this?”
“No. I don’t want to worry them.” Roark ignored the fact that he was keeping info from his siblings, the same way he’d just been angry about Cade and Linc keeping info from him.
“The media isn’t going to give a damn about worrying any of us. The fire being in such a prestigious neighborhood, not to mention the resulting death of one of the wealthiest women in London, has already been receiving front-page coverage. Tabloids are just beginning to dig into whatever they can find on Aunt Maxine, going back to when she and Uncle Gabe first moved into that house. This won’t be our secret for long.”
Roark knew Linc was right. He knew he should talk to Ridge and Suri, but he couldn’t. How was he supposed to tell his brother and sister that their mother had been murdered?
Chapter 2
Three days later, Roark was once again at his office, sitting behind his desk. With one ankle propped on his knee, he leaned back in the chair and stared out the window. As Donovan International’s CEO, he had a large office on the top floor of the glass-and-steel building they owned on the South Bank of the River Thames.
He'd been here since seven this morning, had reluctantly attended an R&D meeting at ten-thirty, had lunch at one and now at three-fifteen was avoiding the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated during his two-week absence. No matter how hard he tried, getting his mind to focus on his job wasn’t working. He knew he had things to do, and was acutely aware the initial three to five years in a new business were crucial. While this wasn’t his first turn at running a company, He needed to remain focused, to stay on top of everything so he could spot potential problems before they got out of control.
