Page 71 of Paternal Instincts
“Benedict Davis is depositing what appears to be a stipend into his daughter-in-law’s account every month. It’s the same amount on the same days going back years. She occasionally transfers some of it to the account she shares with her husband, but never in larger amounts than a few hundred dollars here and there. Not enough to scratch the surface or make a dent. So far as I can see, the account serves no other purpose. No bills are paid from that account. No other income is deposited into it.”
“Benedict Davis?”
“Yes.”
“As in Nixon’s father?”
“Yes.”
I glanced at Jordyn, who looked equally baffled. She spoke my thoughts aloud. “That makes no sense. He hates her. The bad blood in that family is rich and undeniable. Why the fuck would he pay her thousands of dollars a month? Hundreds of thousands a year?”
A memory tickled the back of my brain. Something I’d overheard at the house. I strained to bring it forward, hearing it echo in the distant reaches of my mind. Imogen’s mother. She was yelling at Benedict, something about him having no moral or ethical code.“We all know if there’s a price, you’ll pay it.”
“Quaid?” Aslan touched my arm.
“I’m thinking. Give me a second.”
Imogen knew something. She refused to speak. She swore her son wasn’t in danger. From whom? His father? That was what she implied. Was the boy with the grandparents? Had Nixon shipped him off out of spite? Spite for what? Was he playing a sick game? What was the money? Hush money? For what? Did Nixon know about it? Did he find out something that angered him and he retaliated? Was Imogen the one with secrets and being paid to keep her mouth shut? Had she threatened to tell?
Another thought hit me like a freight train, and I sat up straighter, eyes bulging. “Oh shit. I completely forgot.”
“What?” Jordyn and Aslan asked at the same time.
“Benedict Davis owns twenty percent shares in NexGen. Nixon said it on the day he reported Crowley’s disappearance. He said his parents were retired but that his father had shares in the company. Twenty percent, I believe. I’m sure it was twenty percent. Nixon and Jude both have forty.”
“The missing money,” Jordyn said. “Do you think Nixon is filtering it through his dad into an account in his wife’s name?”
“Maybe. I didn’t think of that.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “But I still don’t know how any of this has to do with Crow.”
Maybe it didn’t. Maybe we were off track and losing the plot altogether, but a gut instinct told me it was connected. Somehow.
Costa spoke for the first time, his question directed at Jordyn. “Why do you assume Nixon knows anything about this money? Hasn’t he been investigating it and getting into fights with his best friend and business partner? Calling in advisors or something?”
“He didn’t call an advisor. He met with Clementine,” I said.
“Okay, but what if Benedict is doing it behind Nixon’s back?”
“And giving it to Imogen?” I asked. “Why?”
Costa spread his hands. “No clue, but it’s a possibility, right?”
“It could explain the feud between family members,” Aslan said.
He was right. “I have a feeling Imogen’s mother knows about the payments. During the chaotic fighting yesterday, I overheard Diane say to Benedict, ‘We all know if there’s a price, you’ll pay it.’ She was referring to a potential ransom, but—”
“It implies knowledge of a previousprice paid.” Aslan added air quotes.
“Exactly.”
No one spoke for a long time. I puzzled connections, imagining various outcomes and inventing secrets that might amount to something nefarious. “We need to find out what Nixon knows about these mysterious payments being put into his wife’s account by his father. We need to look into Benedict’s accounts and find out if he’s withdrawing money from NexGen without anyone knowing.”
“You’re stretching the limit of warrant approval with that one,” Aslan said.
I mock sneered at my husband. “I thought you could sweet-talk Madison into anything.”
He chuckled. “Do you want me to flirt with the hot judge who’s been itching to get in my pants for years?”
“No, but I want a warrant. Itistied together. You have valid reasons. Get me that goddamn warrant. Preferably, without swinging your dick in her face.”
