I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll have answers for you soon enough.”
I stood, and Gabriel did the same.
“Whatever you need, let us know,” he said. “We want justice for Audrey.”
“I know,” I said.
We said our goodbyes, and as I walked to the car, thinking about Vaughn, and giving him the location of his son.
If Vaughn was innocent, I had given him peace.
If he was not, a trap had now been set.
29
I had just pulled away from the curb when a call from Giovanni rang through the car speakers. When I answered, he said, “Good morning, cara mia. Where are you?”
“I just left Talia’s house. Is everything okay?”
“Vaughn Lambert is at the gate, asking to see his son. What would you like me to do?”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “Have Marco tell him that I’m on my way and I’ll speak to him when I get there. What’s his demeanor like?”
“Civil but uptight, from the information Marco gave me. How was your visit with Talia?”
“I spoke with her father, and he told me Vaughn has been by his house twice, demanding to speak with Talia. He accused her of knowing where Logan was and not telling them. This was before I spoke with him yesterday to let him know Logan was staying with us, of course.”
“Do you consider him a suspect?”
“I didn’t before. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“Will you let him speak to his son?”
“Maybe. It might help me get a better read on him. His demeanor was a bit off when I last spoke to him.”
“How can I be of help to you?”
“Your presence is all the help I need. Does Logan know his father’s there?”
“I don’t believe so. He’s in the den, sketching.”
“Will you let him know and ask him how he feels about speaking to his father?”
“I’ll do it now.”
We ended the call, and I sped up. When I turned onto our road, Marco’s silhouette stood out near the gate. Vaughn’s car idling in front of him.
A text message came through from Giovanni letting me know Logan had agreed to talk to his father.
I parked in front of the gate next to Vaughn, and I stepped out.
Vaughn did the same, walking over to me with his hands in his coat pockets, his posture rigid. His eyes flicked to the house, then back to me.
“Morning, Georgiana,” he said.
“Morning. I hear you’d like to see Logan.”
“I would.”
