Disputed: A Ryn Davis Mystery (Ryn Davis Mystery Series Book 5) Read online

  “Lack of sleep,” she said, more to herself than to Molly, grabbing at the thread of their exchange. Security … at Esperanza House. “Yes, we’ve always had a patrol service. In the early days after we opened, some of the neighbors were less than neighborly.”

  A dry, humorless laugh. “I imagine most worried that ex-whores would bring down property prices.”

  “Bingo. A few never miss a chance to bitch—even though we’d win the best neighbor award.”

  “Uh-huh.” Molly’s sigh hinted at a history Ryn could only imagine. “Okay, let’s go with your security group.”

  Chapter 5

  As soon as Ryn disconnected with Molly, she leaned over Beau’s shoulder as she ordered increased security. Instead of handing over his phone, he kept his head down and furiously clicked keys. She bit her tongue and looked out her window. He could text for hours. Especially with Angela.

  Angela. Another woman of the street. With the patience of a saint. Was Elijah in surgery? Was that why Angela had so much time to text? Or was Elijah—

  Ryn rubbed her sweaty hands down her thighs. Her mind skittered away from the possibility of why Angela had so much time to text. She choked her phone and started scrolling the contacts list. What was the name of the security firm for Esperanza House? She should know it; she did know it, dammit.

  What’s wrong with me? I can’t remember names from the past and now I can’t remember names from the present. Something’s wrong. Something—

  “Ryn.” Beau interrupted her self-flagellation. “Angela says Elijah’s asleep. He has a concussion, and they plan to keep him overnight.”

  Ryn nodded and wet her lips. “Good. I hope he doesn’t wake up and decide he’s going home.”

  “Angela says she’ll arm wrestle him if he tries.”

  Ryn laughed. She imagined the petite Angela arm wrestling with the former college lineman. “Give her five minutes, and she’ll have him begging for mercy.”

  “Angela’s tough.” Beau’s tone conveyed his awe.

  “Agreed. Did she say if we can do anything?”

  “She said don’t cancel the trip to Kansas City. She said she’ll call us after we land.” Beau slipped his phone in his front pocket. “I didn’t mention the letter. I didn’t want to worry her.”

  His innocent and sublime belief that Angela would worry about him tightened Ryn’s chest. “We’ll wait until later this afternoon to decide on going back home. We’ll know more when she calls us. Right now, she needs to focus on Elijah.”

  Acid dripped into her gut. From the moment she’d read the letter, she thought of Elijah and mentally sighed. Elijah meant she didn’t have to worry about the damned letter. Elijah would know how to handle the claim made by Maxim Alexei Guerin.

  Where to begin. Who to talk to first? When to take on Guerin. What to do. Now …

  Life is a timing problem.

  Beau shook her arm, shot her a frown. “You’re gone again.”

  She inhaled, exhaled, met his eye. “Thinking about Elijah.”

  “Are you scared he might die?”

  “No.” The lie came automatically, falling out of her mouth like truth. She peered into Beau’s clear blue eyes. She’d promised she’d stop lying so much. Beau deserved the truth. “Yes. Not knowing what happened—my imagination goes into overdrive.”

  “Angela would tell us to come home if he was critical.” When Ryn didn’t agree immediately, he said, “Angela’s a vet, but she’s smart enough to be a people-doctor. She knows how to ask all the right questions and won’t stop till she has the answers.”

  She’s not clairvoyant. The snarky comment slithered out of Ryn’s brain. God, she was petty. Not to mention jealous. Beau stared at her as if she’d spoken.

  “I’m not scared,” Beau said. “But let’s think about something else—like you always tell me when I go ape-shit.”

  Touché. She laughed. Beau occasionally filtered his words with others, but never with her or Angela or Elijah. “I don’t think I’ve gone ape-shit yet but distracting me is a good idea.”

  “Let’s talk about something good for a change. How about meeting William Ward White?”

  How about meeting William Ward White? Why not start with picking at all the scabs she hid from everyone—including herself?

  “What do you remember about him?” Beau asked. “I remember only one of the dozen or so guys my mom lived with after my dad left. He was okay when he wasn’t high.”

  Ryn made a sound—not a laugh, but a titter. “William Ward White never—I’m certain—inhaled, snorted, or shot up. I never saw him close to drunk. If he cussed, he did it away from my mother. The only woman he lived with was my mother. He wanted to marry her and adopt me.”

  Worried adopt would trigger the letter in Beau’s mind, Ryn rushed on. “He’s given more than a billion dollars to women’s shelters and children’s rights and homeless projects around the world. As a teenager, I made his life miserable.”

  “On purpose? A lot of teenagers drive adults crazy just because they’re teenagers.”

  Carefully, Ryn squeezed his fingers. They still hadn’t healed from his kidnapping ordeal. “Do the kids at Esperanza House know how lucky they are to have you on their side?”

  “Uh-huh. They’re like you. And Angela. And Elijah. They don’t care that I can’t do higher math in my head or play basketball worth a damn or remember where I left my wallet.” He twirled an index finger near the side of his head.

  A sharp pain sliced into her stomach. “Stone was mean making that sign.”

  Beau shrugged. “He thought he was joking.”

  No, he didn’t. Ryn pressed her lips together and counted to ten before speaking. “You and I agree to disagree.”

  “Did you agree to disagree with William Ward White? Teenagers do that to drive adults nuts, you know.”

  His return to the subject of Will surprised her almost as much as his insight into the behavior of teenagers. “Busted.”

  Beau grinned. “Did you freeze his balls with the look—like you used with Stone?”

  She wrapped her hand around the heat creeping up her throat. “Will got a weaker version, but only if my mother wasn’t around. By the time I met Stone, I’d perfected the look.”

  The cocked head. The narrowed eyes. The flared nostrils. The curled upper lip. Each gesture popped in her mind like a flashbulb. Mama had rarely left her and Will alone. She must’ve suspected I’d act out. Why did Will never complain to her?

  “You gonna apologize to him?” Beau asked.

  “I’m not sure I can ever apologize, but I intend to try.”

  Chapter 6

  The wheels dropped, and the jet fell toward the unforgiving earth. Without warning, Ryn’s lungs collapsed. Her mouth went dry. Next to her, Beau continued to talk. His mouth opened and closed. She couldn’t hear a word over the thud of her heart. Whatever they’d been discussing had dropped in the black vortex sucking blood from her brain and fingertips.

  Placing her hands palms up in her lap momentarily anchored her. Hold on. You’re okay. Don’t scare Beau. You’re okay.

  A bump. The whir of engines. Sound rushed into her ears. She exhaled. The panic ebbed, leaving her legs shaking. Beau ambled to the back of the plane. His guitar. She jammed her phone in her purse just as it rang. A jerk and she answered.

  “You’re still in the plane?” Angela’s veterinarian’s calm tone soothed the last of Ryn’s jangled nerves.

  She swallowed tears of relief. “Just touched down. Thanks for calling.”

  “I know you’re anxious. And I have nothing but good news.”

  “Thank—” Ryn bit her bottom lip. She didn’t believe a divine entity watched over her and intervened in her life like the Greek and Roman gods, but at that moment, she wanted to thank someone. “What happened?”

  “From what he remembers—and he doesn’t remember that much—someone was out by the walnut grove looking at the house through binoculars. Elijah confronted him, and then every
thing went black.”

  “Can he describe the asshole?”

  “Not very coherently. I’m letting him rest. He wants to go home. He’s worried about Molly and her mother and Leti.”

  “Tell him I’ve got them covered.”

  “For whatever reason, he’s worried the most about Carolyn.”

  “Covered. I’m sending a security patrol to watch the grounds until I get back. Plus, Carolyn’s nurse is there 24/7. Molly, too. I told Leti to stay with them. That’s three people looking out for Carolyn.”

  “I’ll tell him. Did you know he visits Carolyn every day?”

  “No.” Ryn shook her head, remembered where she was and added, “Any idea why?”

  “Something Molly told him about her … I’m not even sure what”

  “Hmmm. Interesting. I’ve tried to get Molly to open up about her mother, and the conversation fizzles after two, three minutes.”

  “Okay, a topic for another day. Right now, I want you to stay in Kansas City for the full four days. More, if you need the time. No matter how much Elijah yells, he’s spending tonight in the hospital. Knowing you’ve hired security ought to help him calm down.”

  “Let’s hope.” Worry rode the comment. Elijah had taken his lumps in the Florida mess with Molly’s psycho-husband.

  “Remember, his head is hard. He’ll tell you they broke the mold after he entered the world.”

  “There is that.” Ryn pitched her voice to teasing. Part of why she’d agreed to visit Will was because she knew Elijah would handle any emergencies in California.

  “’Kay. I’ll call again around ten your time. Sing you a lullaby.”

  “My circadian rhythm will think it’s eight.”

  “Your circadian rhythm is so out of whack it doesn’t know the time. Try to stay cool with William White. Love you, girlfriend.” Angela disconnected, leaving Ryn aware she wanted an excuse to keep talking.

  To stall …

  “Ready?” Beau stopped and set his guitar case in his empty seat.

  “Ready,” she lied.

  A young, light-skinned Black man stepped forward as soon as Ryn entered the private jet terminal. He looked vaguely familiar.

  “Samuels.” He introduced himself and handed her and Beau two surgical masks. “You may remember Jonah, my grandfather.”

  “I do remember Jonah.” Hadn’t he retired before Ryn left for Stanford over twenty-five years earlier? She slipped her mask over her nose and mouth. “I hope he’s well.”

  “Ninety-seven and still runs circles around me and my dad.”

  “Wow, that’s old.” Beau stuffed his face covering in his front pocket and pulled out an orange and white one printed with the face of Maj, Feline Extraordinaire, who ruled Beau’s life. “I have six of these as backups.”

  “COVID guidelines.” Robert adjusted his own mask. “Will’s heart.”

  “We agree.” Ryn and Beau had tested negative three days earlier and had emailed the test results to Steven White yesterday. Fighting Stage IV congestive heart failure, William Ward White definitely fell in the high-risk category for the virus.

  This visit was likely to be Ryn’s only chance to apologize for disrespecting the man her mother had loved and to learn more about the mother she’d all but forgotten.

  Unlikely, highly unlikely, was finding proof her mother had been murdered.

  Chapter 7

  “Wow!” Beau had seen his share of mansions—including the one Stone had given Ryn in Beverly Hills. His eyes widened as if he’d never seen anything but the LA tenement where he grew up.

  The Mexico hacienda, owned by Stone, pushed opulence to the nth degree. Ryn had never felt comfortable surrounded by so much gold and marble. So, Stone generally went alone to Ixtapa with the rest of the band. At least twice, he’d hooked up with a “babe” and begged Ryn afterwards not to leave him. Each time, she’d retreated, alone, to their Telluride lodge—stunning in the shadow of the Rockies. She’d stayed with Stone but still questioned the decision.

  William Ward White’s Mediterranean villa had weathered a hundred and forty years with Architectural Digest majesty. The red-tiled roof lit up the afternoon sky. The two wings of the fifteen-thousand-square-foot abode provided perfect symmetry to the main part of the house. A tiled, forty-foot fountain dominated the courtyard. Weeping willows and redbud trees dotted the sweeping drives.

  Mama loved those.

  Early tulips and crocuses surrounded the fountain. The arch into the main house added to its fairytale aura. God, the first time she’d seen the place, her mind blanked. After the four-room house she and Mama had shared in Independence, William Ward White’s pied à terre was no less daunting than Buckingham Palace to ten-year-old Ryn.

  “Did you live here?” Beau asked, his voice breathy.

  “For a month. Will bought a house for me and my mother about a mile away. Not this big, but very nice.”

  “Is William White richer than Stone and me?”

  In the front seat of the limo, Robert Samuels coughed.

  Ryn said, “William White is one of the richest men in the US.”

  “You said he’s nice …”

  “Very nice. I’m sure you’ll like him. Steve says he’s a fan.”

  “No kiddin’? I figured he only liked Beethoven and Bach.”

  “Not only.” Ryn placed a hand on Beau’s wrist. She wanted a moment to reenter the world of Will White. She hoped coming back would evoke some memories of the life she’d stuffed so deep into a black hole that she’d stopped digging long ago.

  Will was hoping she’d figure out if Mama died from the car accident or if she was murdered. Ryn, long gone from Kansas City by then, had no idea. But she hoped to give Will—Mama’s pet name and now Ryn’s as well—some peace of mind on the subject.

  Steven White emerged from the gigantic front door, ambled down the marble steps, and waited as the limo floated to a stop. Ryn’s chest tightened. She’d made a truce—no, peace—with Steven’s uncle, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted to cross the line of neutrality with his nephew. Some part of her—for no rational reason—shied away from accepting him as a friend.

  When he opened her car door, she leaned out for an air kiss and then stepped onto the walkway so Beau could smother the other man in a bear hug. She watched the two guys and tried to pinpoint her hostility.

  Did Will expect her and Steven to like each other?

  They spent a few minutes reassuring one another how well they looked after their ordeal in Florida. Steven had subsequently taken a pretty tough beating in Ryn’s barn in the face-off against Whit Duncan’s murderer. Living two thousand miles away from that scene probably helped Steven cope. Ryn still refused to go into the barn.

  The grand, sweeping staircase dominated the soaring foyer. Ryn imagined nineteenth-century robber barons with their diamond-resplendent wives descending from the third-floor ballroom, ready for a decadent hours-long dinner. Shortly after moving into the house with Mama, she’d found pictures in the library chronicling such social events. Many of the attendees were relatives of Will and provided a reason for despising him and his accumulated wealth.

  Despite inheriting Stone’s quarter-of-a-billion-dollar estate and four times that figure from Rebecca Carter to support Esperanza House, Ryn distrusted most rich people. Rebecca, a former madam, who bought California real estate and followed investment tips from her lovers, was an exception.

  “Uncle Bill thought you might like to go to your rooms before meeting him,” Steven said in a tone Ryn thought sounded as if he was repeating himself.

  “The flight was a breeze.” Ryn repressed the memory of the landing, but the email she wanted to discuss with Elijah intruded. Dammit, maybe she could recover by calling I King Pilgrim, her private attorney since Stone’s murder. Assuming she could get him on the phone, she had no doubts King would have a hundred questions. Which meant postponing her meeting with Will.

  Aware both men were staring at her, she realized she’d let h
er mind go down a different path. What the hell had Steven asked?

  “Do you want to go first, Ryn? By yourself?” Beau, attuned more often than not to her emotions, threw her a lifeline.

  “I can give Beau the dollar-tour,” Steve said.

  Absolutely not. No to going in alone, and no to leaving Beau with Steven. She met his eyes. “Let’s go in together.”

  “Thanks.” Steven’s one word carried a note of relief.

  Ryn’s heart missed a beat. How close to dying was Will?

  “We won’t stay too long,” she said. “I don’t want to exhaust him on our first day.”

  And she did want to contact King.

  “He’ll let you know when he needs to rest.” Steve led them, side by side, up the staircase. There was still space for at least three more people.

  Double doors at the end of the four-lane hall stood open. Ryn’s breath hitched. She’d never entered this inner sanctum while waiting for the final touches on Mama’s house. Mama had slept with dozens and dozens of men after Daddy died. But images of her mother in William Ward White’s bed turned Ryn’s stomach. Glad a bed wasn’t visible in the suite, she stepped forward. The sanitized smell of sickness tightened her throat.

  Seated in a wheelchair in front of a roaring fire, a large white-haired man called, “Welcome. Come in, come in.”

  Memory remnants and fragments collided with each other as Ryn stumbled, then quickened her pace. Her heart banged her ribcage, but she smiled, letting the tears run down her cheeks. This man had loved her mother with all his heart. He had also, against all reason, loved Ryn.

  Maybe still loves me. She knelt by his chair, kissed his cheek, and spoke the truth. “I am so glad to see you, Will.”

  Chapter 8

  Jaw clenched, Steve stared past Uncle Bill and Ryn by the fire. Sweat trickled down his sides. Jesus, he probably stunk like a pig. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Beau swipe his brow. Ryn’s back was to him, but he bet if she ever cried, she cried icicles.