Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 68006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
If he thinks I’m going into the bathroom and leaving him unattended in here, he can think again. “The glass will do. Thanks.”
“Your call.”
“What kind of business are you in, Mr. Smith?” I ask.
“Foreign currency exchange mostly. I hit a jackpot about twenty years ago. Reached the tipping point. Now I just sit around waiting for checks to clear, and my net worth increases every year on its own.”
“Foreign currency, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. You can make a killing. I mean, look at me.”
Yeah, look at him. If he’s telling the truth, and I’m not convinced he is. His clothing is basic black trousers and a black long sleeved T-shirt, black sneakers. Nothing to indicate how wealthy he claims to be.
“So tell me why now, after all these years, you’ve decided you want to give your money away to your long-lost daughter and your baby mama?”
“Because, Mr. Ramsey, it seems that I’m dying.”
I keep my expression neutral. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He inhales slowly. “I suppose we all have to go sometime.”
“May I ask what’s wrong?”
He taps the side of his head. “An inoperable brain tumor. It’s not cancer. Totally benign, but it’s fast-growing and within the next couple of months, dementia will set in, and soon my brain will be too damaged to function at all, and I’ll be gone.”
Again, I keep my expression noncommittal. I’m not at all convinced he’s telling the truth. But I can easily find out if he is who he says he is. If that’s the case, the Wolfes can hire someone to hack into his medical records, but I’m guessing Forrester Smith is an alias.
I’m still not convinced he’s related to Kelly, either, but the DNA will crack that part of the story soon enough.
“There’s nothing the doctors can do?”
“They’ve done all they can. They slowed the process enough to give me enough time to get my affairs in order.”
“I see.”
Smith walks toward the window and stares out of it. “You know, when you have to face your own mortality, you begin to see things in a different way.”
“I know that.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Ramsey, but you’re young and healthy. I’m afraid you don’t know that.”
“You’re wrong. I served my country as a Navy SEAL on several tours of duty, and I faced my mortality more than once. Believe me.”
“Indeed?” He lifts his eyebrows. “Thank you for your service.”
I resist the urge to drop my jaw at his comment. “You’re welcome. It was an honor to serve my country.”
Smith clears his throat. “I’m not looking for anyone’s empathy. I haven’t lived the best life, and I probably deserve what I’m getting.”
“You mean for abandoning Kelly.”
He moves from the window, stares around the large suite. “I didn’t abandon her. I didn’t know she existed. Not until about five or six years ago.”
I lift my eyebrows. “I see. You might be interested to know that your—hell, I don’t know what you call her, your baby mama?—says you only just got in contact with her recently.”
“She’s not telling the truth.”
I can’t help an eye roll. “There’s a shocker.”
“I owe her a lot,” he says. “Taking care of our daughter when I wasn’t there to do so.”
“You don’t owe her crap. From what I understand, she was a terrible mother.”
“You don’t say.”
“And you don’t seem too upset to hear that.”
“Understand this from my position,” he says. “Racine is a woman I had indiscriminate sex with at a masquerade party nearly thirty years ago. I had no feelings for the woman then, and I have no feelings for her now. As for my daughter, I don’t know her. I want to get to know her. I’d like her to be a part of my life.”
“Don’t you think that’s up to her?”
“Of course it is. But I don’t have a lot of time left, Mr. Ramsey. Please, try to see it my way.”
“I do see it your way,” I say. “But that doesn’t change things from Kelly’s perspective.”
He sighs. “I know.”
The man is a pretty good actor. I’ll give him that. He knows what to say and how to say it. But his body language speaks differently. There’s something else at work here, and I’m going to figure out what it is.
Is he truly dying of an inoperable brain tumor? Or is that just a little too convenient?
“Tell me why you gave Racine two million dollars five years ago.”
He meets my gaze. “Where did you get that idea?”
His expression shows some surprise—a raised brow, parted lips. But something is still off, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“You’re aware that Kelly was kidnapped and held on Derek Wolfe’s island, aren’t you?”
He inhales. “I am. Very unfortunate.”
His tone doesn’t indicate any remorse, and although he doesn’t know Kelly at all, he should still be disgusted by a young woman being taken to that place. What is his angle?