Page 63 of Paternal Instincts
Zoey Gershwin met us at the front door, explaining that Imogen hadn’t come out of her room since we’d left the previous night, Nixon had slept on the couch, and Sparrow was calm and settled. Father and daughter were eating breakfast in the kitchen.
We encouraged Zoey to head out for a break. Liaison work could be taxing, and she happily complied.
I touched Jordyn’s arm before she marched into the kitchen to confront Nixon. “I’m going to check on Imogen and see if she’s thought about her situation and wants to chat.” I also wanted to give Aslan more time to get back to me about Clementine. “Can you convince Sparrow to come up when she’s done eating? I’d rather she spends time with her mother while we talk to Nixon.”
Jordyn agreed, and I wandered upstairs, knocking on the closed bedroom door at the end of the hallway.
“Mrs. Davis? Genie? It’s Quaid Valor. Can I come in?”
A long pause followed before she granted me permission. Imogen was not in bed. She stood at the window, watching the birds chatter and bounce along the tree branches as they feasted their fill on seeds. The bully blue jay was back, lording over a specific feeder like he owned it and fluttering his wings at anyone who dared venture too close.
“How can I help you, Mr. Valor?”
I was used to the first question out of parents’ mouths being,Have you found my child?Imogen’s blank stare and lack of emotion weren’t necessarily unusual, but they weren’t doing her any favors. I had ahundred questions. I wanted to turn up the pressure and make her sweat until she told us what she knew or suspected, but Edwards’ words reverberated inside my head, reminding me totread carefully.
“What do you know about the conflict between Jude and Nixon?”
Imogen turned from the window. She wore silk pajamas. One hand rested on her swollen belly. Her hair had been tied in a high ponytail, so it swung, brushing her shoulders when she shook her head. “Only what he tells me, which isn’t always much since Nixon goes out of his way lately to keep me calm.” Said as though the notion of getting overly stressed annoyed her. “I know there’s concern over missing money. I know my husband has been anxious about it and that he’s concerned Jude may be responsible because of his gambling problems that often get out of hand. It can make a man desperate.”
“I imagine it can. How desperate?”
Imogen shrugged but didn’t offer a response otherwise.
“How hostile has the situation become?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have they openly fought?”
“They’ve had heated discussions, but they’re friends. It never gets out of hand or physical. They’ll work it out. Nixon always rescues Jude when he’s… struggling. He’s kindhearted like that. Jude doesn’t always admit when things are bad. They have their moments, but they’ll be okay. Whatever the issue this time, I’m sure they’ll work it out.”
“You understand the amount of money missing is no small sum. They’re talking about hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
Imogen’s expression conveyed surprise. She didn’t know.
“Mrs. Davis, if your husband is somehow directly or indirectly responsible for your missing son, and that’s the impression you gave me yesterday, could it have something to do with Jude and this mess?And if so, how do I get him back? Where do I look? What aren’t you telling me because I know there’s something I’m missing.”
She stared for a long time before turning back to the window. “I don’t know, Mr. Valor.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I said, I don’t know.” The slap of each word, laced with anger, made me jump.
“Are you trying to protect Nixon? Yourself? Jude? Christ. Help me out here. What about Crowley?Your son, Imogen. What about your son?”
She didn’t respond and stared mournfully out the window. Movement at the doorway caught my eye, and I turned to look. Little Sparrow hit me with a beaming, toothy smile. “Hi, Detective Quaid. You came back.”
“I did.”
“Did you find Crow?”
“Not yet.” I glanced at Imogen, whose focus was on the birds. Her expression back to an unreadable mask. I wasn’t getting anywhere with her. “How about you keep your mommy company for a while? I need to talk to your daddy again.”
“About Crowley?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay.” She eyed her mother, her smile faltering until Imogen broke her spell and remembered to be a parent for a change. She waved her daughter forward and took Sparrow’s hand.
