Page 16 of Until The Stars Don't Shine

He turned to the section on her love life.

She’d only had two relationships: one that had lasted one semester at high school, and the other during the last year of college with Peter Jackson, a fellow student in her class.

Jackson’s numerous social network posts consisted of his travels, where his sole aim seemed to be to party in every major city of the world. With barely any time between he and Lexi’s break up, he took up with a model who was constantly featured in the press for her wild ways.

There was another note from Wilson mentioning that Jackson’s model girlfriend had been a close friend of Lexi’s, but since the two had gotten together, unsurprisingly, the girls had never spoken to each other again.

This was something else he kept coming across in this town: people leaving their partners for someone close to them. The place was such a cesspool of cheats and fakes that he was giving real thought to moving somewhere nice and honest. Canada maybe, where the air was clear and the people just as transparent.

He flipped back to the images of Lexi that had been taken from her family’s photo albums, noting how natural she looked in all of them. Not for her were the posy “duck trout” faces most half-decent women struck whenever a camera was pointed their way, or the cheesy peace signs. She simply smiled a smile that caused an unfamiliar pull in his chest.

His forehead furrowed into a frown at this unexpected reaction.

He would have to ignore this initial physical attraction he was feeling, get the job done, and take off on that vacation he’d promised Bud.

The girl was bound to be an ordeal.

All he’d have to do was spend a little time with her to find his attraction fading.

He’d bet the house on it.

7

It was five or so minutes later when Ruth, a chatty woman in her sixties who had been with the family for years, poured Kane a scotch.

Despite having worked for most of the day, her uniform was spotless. She handed the scotch to him, her hands rough from the years of manual labor, yet nimble and graceful as a woman half her age. Kane took the drink, inclining his head in a nod of thanks.

“I can count the times I have poured this drink for guests on one hand,” she informed him.

“Do the Rockefellers have a rule about alcohol?”

She shook her head. “On the contrary, they are connoisseurs, but this particular bottle is usually only brought out for special circumstances. You must be an important man, Mr. Turner.”

He was hardly that to them. What possible reason could they have for bringing out the good stuff?

Were they trying to poison him?

Maybe this was punishment for seeing his daughter half-naked…

The heat from the scotch burned his throat as his imagination took over. Oblivious to the direction his thoughts had taken, Ruth continued.

“So many movies they’ve made… Mr. Rockefeller, he works very hard. It’s terrible what is happening to them.”

“They spoke to you about it?” Kane kept his voice deceptively soft, but Ruth caught the edge in it. Looking suddenly alarmed, she flushed and stammered over her next words.

“I overheard them speaking. It’s just… I love Lexi like my own daughter.”

She stopped talking, panic setting in. A sheen of sweat appeared on her brow that she wiped away with a shaking hand. She tossed a look at the door that separated them from the Rockefellers, worried that they might be able to hear them.

“It’s probably best if you don’t speak of this with anyone, Ruth. Not even your son, Hank,” Kane replied quietly.

Ruth looked startled.

She had not mentioned anything of herself to him, yet Kane knew that Ruth had an adult son who she had raised single-handedly after her husband had died when her son was only six. Shortly after his death, she was hired by the Rockefellers, and had been looking after them for some twenty years. It was one of those facts Clara had noted in the file.

“Of course not,” the housekeeper stammered. Kane gave her a small smile to soften his words, but kept his eyes hard. It was easier to do his job if people were slightly afraid of him.

Her head bobbed up and down as she spun and headed out of the room, moving as fast as her short legs could carry her. Kane had put the fear of God into her and she couldn’t wait to get away. When the sliver of guilt rose up, he quashed it with a gulp of scotch.

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