My mouth gaped along with Nick’s.What the actual fuck was going on?
Nick launched himself out of his seat and loomed over the detective. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
The blond cop leaped to stand by Wright’s chair. “Sit down, Mister Fisher. Now.”
Nick scowled at the younger man but held his tongue and did as requested.
Jonothon Wright, who’d barely batted an eye at Nick’s theatrics, studied him as a spider would an insect caught in its web.
“I’m sorry,” Nick grumbled. “If you want to know where we were, we had lunch at The Decanter Room, then came back here where we’ve been ever since,together.”
“Is there anyone else who can verify that?”
In an attempt to avoid bloodshed, I answered for the both of us. “Nick called his brother-in-law, and I phoned the owner of the cottage, but that’s about it. You’re welcome to check our phone’s GPS if you feel it’s necessary.”
Nick glared at me.
I ignored him. His pissy attitude wasn’t helping.
The detective gave me a curious look. “Thank you for the offer. We might just take you up on that.”
“You’re welcome.” I opened my hands. “We’re not lying. We have no idea where Chloe is. We haven’t seen her since we left her with Belinda yesterday. We want to find her as much as you do.”
Nick interrupted, shocking the hell out of me by saying, “Getting back to my earlier point about Austin not being Chloe’s son: this is important becauseIamChloe’s son,something Austin clearly doesn’t know and which happens to makemeher next of kin. That’s in fact why we’re down here. It’s why we went to see her. We’ve been estranged for a while due to a number of complicated reasons, and it was Chloe who first contacted me to reconnect and come visit, not the other way around. I have everyright to see her. Possibly more right than Austin, if it comes down to it.”
Jonothon Wright blinked, clearly surprised by Nick’s answer. He shared a quick look with the constable, who was scribbling furiously in his notepad. If Austin had read Chloe’s letter, then he’d know Nick was her son, and yet he hadn’t said anything. Why?
The detective eyeballed Nick. “You’reChloe’s son?”
“Yes,” Nick repeated. “I’mher son. She left when I was around eight years old. Then a couple of months ago she writes a letter wanting to reconnect. And here we are.”
The detective frowned. “But Austin doesn’t know?”
I rolled my eyes and again answered for Nick. “Chloe told us their relationship is sometimes strained and that Austin can be bossy.” I was more than happy to throw some mud in the other direction. “She wanted to talk with Nick first before telling anybody else. Austin’s father knew all about Nick, but not Austin himself.”
“I see.” The detective wrote in his own notebook. “And yet Chloe’s doctor and her neighbours paint Austin and Belinda as reliable and trustworthy caregivers.”
I said nothing, too busy watching Nick for any sign he was about to lose his shit completely.
“You understand my dilemma,” the detective continued. “I have a number of reliable people vouching for Austin, but onlyyouand your partner—” He shot me a considering look. “—saying anything to the contrary. So, my question is, where is your proof regarding your relationship to Chloe and any evidence of this so-called strained relationship?”
Shit.
Nick sent a slightly panicked looked my way. Chloe’s letter was gone, and other than what she’d told the two of us about Austin, we had nothing concrete except the accounts which werebeginning to seem the best chance we had of swinging opinion our way. Dammit.
But there was one other card up our sleeve. “Chloe has a scrapbook about Nick in her bookcase,” I blurted. “She’s been following Nick’s career and personal life for years. We can show you where it is. Austin doesn’t know about it.”
Nick made a slow turn to face me, the relief evident on his face. “That’s right. It’s maybe not proof exactly, but it’s close.”
Wright nodded. “That would go a long way toward helping your case.”
Nick threw up his hands. “What case? Are we being accused of something?”
Wright ignored the outburst. “But even if youareher son, there are a lot of reasons family come out of the woodwork and start circling when parents are sick, most of them not good.” The detective got to his feet. “Would you mind if we take a look around?”
Nick was still festering about the whole family-coming-out-of-the-woodwork thing, and so I answered for him. “Go ahead. Just don’t touch anything. Chloe’s not here. Never has been.”
As they began their snoop, I elbowed Nick in the ribs and whispered, “I think we should tell them about the accounts.”
