Page 54
Laughter works its way around the table as Duncan leans back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. I shake my head at him. “You’re an asshole.”
I’m still laughing when I pick up my fork again. I’ve spent enough time around the Murphys to realize that half the entertainment at mealtimes comes from watching them find new ways to get under each other’s skin. Day, apparently, all it takes is Irish and a very annoyed Ronan.
After breakfast, we return to the same secured room we used the night before. As everyone takes their seats, I notice Jaxon and Xavier haven’t joined us, and Ollie is gone too. Duncan catches me looking toward the door and explains, “Xavier and Jaxon aren’t involved in this side of the family business.”
Colton sits beside me and opens his laptop. “I am. My biological parents were involved with human traffickers disguised as a cult. Ronan and this family saved Ollie and me, and after everything they did for us, I decided I’d do whatever I could to help.”
I understand that without needing anything more. If someone had given me the chance to help Joey when he needed it, there isn’t much I wouldn’t have done for them afterward.
Declan leans back in his chair and looks at me. “I hear you’ve been doing a little monster hunting on your own. So that’s why you were in our club that night.”
“Yep, and because you decided to get all up in my face, I missed my opportunity.” I give him a pointed look. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
A few people laugh, but Declan doesn’t look remotely sorry. Before he can respond, Alessia moves to the large screen at the front of the room, bringing the conversation back to why we’re all here.
“Colton, if you would.”
Alessia doesn’t raise her voice, but the room quiets as Colton brings a woman’s driver’s license photo onto the large screen. The change from breakfast is striking. Less than an hour ago, Alessia was laughing while Ollie threw oatmeal at Liam. Now I’m seeing the woman who built Murphy Enterprises alongside her family, and no one needs to be told to pay attention.
“Daniela Norris. Thirty-six years old, born in England before moving to New York as a child. Her parents died in a plane crash when she was six, and she remained in the United States afterward.” Alessia looks around the table before continuing. “Daniela Norris is a real person. That much we’ve confirmed.”
I look more closely at the photograph. “Then what’s the problem?”
Ronan answers from behind his laptop. “The background we originally ran on her checked out because we were verifying Daniela Norris, and Daniela Norris has a legitimate history. Birth records, school records, immigration records after the move to New York. There was nothing in the initial search that gave us a reason to question the identity.”
That explains how she got anywhere near Duncan, but not why we’re sitting here talking about her now. “So what changed?”
“I stopped verifying the information she gave us and started verifying the woman herself,” Ronan says. “That’s where things stopped lining up.”
I sit forward, looking between him and the photograph. “You’re saying the woman Duncan knows isn’t Daniela Norris.”
“I’m saying I can’t prove she is.” Ronan turns his laptop enough for Colton to see something on the screen. “There are gaps and inconsistencies that shouldn’t exist if we’re dealing with the same woman. I’m still tracing them, so I’m not calling anything definitive yet.”
Duncan has been quiet beside me, and I glance at him. He’s looking at Daniela’s photograph with the same controlled expression he wears through most business meetings, but I’ve spent enough time watching him now to recognize when his attention has narrowed onto something.
“She was introduced to us by Nathan Whitmore of the Whitmore Foundation,” he says. “He presented her as his ward. I attended two charity events with her as my plus-one, nothing more.”
“Nathan vouched for her,” Ronan adds. “Since the identity itself was legitimate and Uncle Duncan had no intention of becoming personally involved with her, I didn’t run the deeper investigation we use when someone is entering the family’s private life.”
“You followed protocol,” Duncan tells him. “There was no reason to do more.”
Ronan’s expression says that argument isn’t going to stop him from changing something later, but he doesn’t waste time fighting about it. He returns to his computer while I look back at the woman on the screen.
“If she isn’t Daniela, then who the hell is she, and why would Whitmore vouch for her?”
“Those are the questions we’re working on,” Colton says. “We haven’t found enough yet to say whether Nathan knows the identity is being used by someone else. He could be involved, or he could believe she really is Daniela.”
That makes more sense than deciding he’s part of whatever she’s doing simply because he introduced her. “What about the business connection? You said the Whitmores are competitors.”
Conor shifts in his chair. “They are, but not enough to make this an obvious corporate play. Frederick Whitmore was involved in an attempted hostile takeover last year, and we’ve competed over a few acquisitions, but we aren’t constantly going after the same business.”
“You’re making a hostile takeover sound pretty casual.”
A grin pulls at Conor’s mouth. “It was once I finished with them. They were trying to acquire a software company we were already negotiating with. It took me two weeks to undo what they’d done and close the acquisition ourselves.”
Declan finally shows some amusement. “Freddy walked into the final meeting expecting to find his people sitting in the boardroom and found us instead. I thought he was going to stroke out.”
A few people laugh before Alessia brings us back to the reason we’re here. Colton changes the screen, replacing the single photograph with a collection of records, photographs, dates and financial information connected by a timeline. The setup is more organized than anything Zee and I have ever put together, although having an entire family of terrifyingly competent people and what appears to be an unlimited technology budget probably helps.
