‘I know.’ Frederick wasn’t so sure about his own judgment anymore, but he’d bow to Clay’s any day of the week. ‘But in the meantime, his clients will still have trial dates. Jamie and I will figure out how to split Thorne’s caseload. It’ll be fine.’
Clay studied him, narrow-eyed. ‘You’re not sure, are you? If he’s innocent?’
‘I’m sure that you’re sure, and that’s good enough for me.’
Clay sighed. ‘Frederick. Dammit, man. How many times do I have to say this? Donna lied to us both. You’re gonna have to let all that shit go. I have, and so has Taylor. What does your gut tell you about Thorne?’
‘That he would never do anything so heinous.’
‘Then there you go. He’s being framed. That’s clear to me and . . .’ He sat up straighter, brightening at the sight of the daughter they shared coming through the waiting room door holding a red-headed toddler on her hip. ‘Taylor.’
Frederick smiled, because the joy on Clay’s face was infectious, just as it was every time Taylor walked into a room. Clay appeared to have truly put the pain of his and Taylor’s twenty-plus-year separation behind him. Every time Frederick saw the man’s face light up, he told himself that someday he might forgive himself.
‘Hey, baby,’ Frederick said, leaning his face up for a kiss. Taylor complied, kissing his cheek, then Clay’s.
‘Any word?’ she asked, sighing when both he and Clay shook their heads. ‘Well, Miss Wynnie here was missing her mama.’ She dropped a kiss on top of the baby’s head. ‘I texted JD and he said to bring her in, that Lucy could find a quiet room to nurse her. And before you ask, Pops, I left Ford on babysitting detail. Mason is in good hands.’
Ford Elkhart was Taylor’s fiancé and Frederick liked him very much. Mason was Clay and Stevie’s new son, already six weeks old. That Clay was getting to experience fatherhood from the beginning for the first time made Frederick very happy.
‘I never figured you’d leave him alone,’ Clay said mildly. ‘And don’t call me Pops.’
Taylor just grinned at him. ‘You know you love it.’ She sat down next to Frederick, settling the baby on her lap. ‘Oh, Dad, I heard from Daisy. She’s coming for Mason’s christening.’
Frederick raised his brows at this news. His middle daughter had been enjoying the new-found freedom that had come with Taylor and Clay’s reunion. No longer needing to stay in hiding, she’d been backpacking in Europe for the past four months. She wasn’t supposed to be back for another two months. ‘Is she okay?’
Taylor moved her shoulders in an uncertain shrug. ‘I don’t know. She said she was. But I worry about her.’
So did Frederick. Daisy’s sobriety had been only one of the casualties of their years of forced hiding. His twenty-five-year-old was now a recovering alcoholic because of the choices he’d made.
‘Dad, stop it,’ Taylor chided. ‘I can see you going into guilt mode.’
‘I keep telling him,’ Clay muttered.
The two of them huffed such similarly aggrieved sighs that Frederick found himself smiling. ‘Fine, fine. Is she planning on telling me, or am I supposed to act surprised?’
‘She said she was going to text you. I only know she’s coming because I went online about five a.m. and saw she’d posted new pics on Facebook. You don’t want to see them,’ she added quickly when Frederick started to look on his phone. ‘She met this guy. With a motorcycle. So . . . save your blood pressure and let those photos just pass right on by.’
Frederick only nodded. He’d look at the pictures later. And then he’d check out the guy to make sure he was legit. Nobody messed with his daughters.
‘Anyway,’ Taylor said, ‘I saw she was online, so I called her. Had a nice chat while I shoveled out horse stalls. Then I did a few therapy sessions at the farm.’
Taylor was an intern at Healing Hearts with Horses, an equine therapy center that provided services to child victims of traumatic violence. It was what she’d been born to do, and Frederick’s heart nearly burst with pride every time he thought about it.
‘Jazzie was one of my sessions,’ Taylor went on. ‘She’s doing really well. She’s gotten over her fear of riding and she smiles much more often. See?’ She took out her phone and showed them a photo of a smiling young girl astride one of the farm’s horses. ‘I thought if Thorne was awake, I could show him. She doesn’t know what he did for her, but . . . Well, he still asks about her.’
Jazzie had been one of Taylor’s first clients. A little girl who’d discovered her mother’s brutally beaten body, she’d lived in terror that the murderer would find out that she’d seen him leave the scene. When he had indeed come after her, Thorne had provided key evidence that enabled the police to bring the killer to justice, ensuring the little girl’s safety.
The memory of Thorne’s actions in that case dispelled the remaining doubt in Frederick’s mind. See? He’s a good guy. ‘Send me the photo,’ he told his daughter. ‘When he wakes up, I’ll make sure he sees it.’
Taylor smiled up at him. ‘Thank you.’ Then she twisted in her seat, because everyone around her had come to their feet.
Lucy and JD had entered the room, their expressions relieved. An audible sigh of relief rose from Thorne’s group of friends.
Lucy made a beeline for her daughter. ‘Thorne’s awake,’ she announced. ‘Ask JD for details. I’ve got a baby to feed.’ She took Wynnie from Taylor. ‘Thank you,’ she said fervently. ‘You’re a lifesaver. I was about to go pump or explode. This is so much nicer than either.’
Without another word, she hurried from the room with the baby, and Taylor sat back down with a slight grimace. ‘You know, I’ll sometimes start thinking about how sweet babies are. Then she reminds me about exploding . . . well, you know. I hate to break it to you dads, but it’ll be a while before you get any grandchildren out of me.’
‘Fine by me,’ Clay said. ‘You’re too young.’
‘Older than you were when I was born,’ she retorted.
‘Which was too young,’ Frederick echoed. ‘Live a little, baby. Go to Paris like Daisy. Have fun.’
Clay pushed to his feet. ‘What he said. Now excuse me while I go listen to what JD has to say.’
Taylor laid her head on Frederick’s shoulder once they were alone in their corner of the waiting room. ‘I’m not the Paris type. And I am having fun. My life is good, Dad. I promise. So no feeling guilty, okay?’
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. ‘Okay. Then I’ll go talk to JD too. You planning to stick around?’
‘Until Lucy’s done with the feeding, then I’ll take Wynnie back to the house.’ She tugged on his sleeve when he stood up. ‘Dad, let me know what I can do to help Thorne. Please? He’s a good guy. There’s no way he did this.’
‘I will,’ Frederick promised. ‘And I agree.’ He was happy to realize that he really did. His new boss was a good guy and he wasn’t going to allow his own ridiculous insecurities to convince him otherwise.
Three
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 12 June, 3.50 P.M.
Gwyn closed her eyes against the heavy silence that descended on the room. ‘Who was she?’ she asked, her voice far less steady than she’d hoped it would be.
‘I don’t know.’ Thorne’s whisper was barely audible. ‘But I didn’t . . .’ His voice broke. ‘I didn’t kill her.’
Gwyn’s eyes flew open, stunned to see him looking defeated. ‘I know you didn’t, you asshole,’ she snapped.
He frowned. ‘Then what?’
‘Then what?’ she parroted, scowling at him. ‘There was a woman in your bed, Thorne.’ And after the initial shock had subsided, seeing her there had hurt.
From the corner of her eye she saw Jamie glance from her to Thorne. His grey brows rose. ‘Oh,’ he said in a way that told her he’d already jumped to the wrong conclusion.