Page 34 of Paternal Instincts
“Genie, I want to revisit a few questions from yesterday.”
When Jordyn and I had done our initial interview with the couple, they had been together. In a case like Crowley’s abduction, with a ransom note and potential family secrets, the truth didn’t always come out unless you dug, poked, prodded, and supplied people with multiple opportunities to slip up. Also, honesty was fickle when family secrets were one-sided and kept by a single parent.
At this point, we didn’t know who was holding back.
Imogen stroked her belly, seemingly waiting for me to go on. Instinctively, I wanted to offer to get her water and ensure she was comfortable, but she wasn’t Bryn, and that wasn’t my job. Fussing would be out of line. According to Aslan, I fussed so much over Bryn that he was shocked she hadn’t banned me from visiting.
But Bryn carried my child. Imogen did not. She carried Nixon’s baby, and when we were done chatting, I would encourage him to check on his wife.
I shifted my weight, unsure where to put myself. I would have preferred being at Imogen’s level and not hovering over her, but there wasn’t a chair in the room, and sitting on the edge of the bed was inappropriate.
“Yesterday, I asked you why you fired Clementine, and you shared that it wasn’t working out.”
“I don’t like strangers caring for my children. Nixon didn’t ask if I wanted help. He simply hired her.”
“I understand your doctor ordered bed rest due to a medical concern that could cause premature labor. I would have thought the extra help would be beneficial. Was Clementine not doing her job?”
“Her work ethic wasn’t in question. I just didn’t want her here anymore. Why is that so hard for people to understand?”
“She was here for five weeks, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What type of things did she help with?”
Imogen sighed and stared out the window again. The blue jay was gone. “Cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kids, and ensuring I could rest as much as possible.”
“Was she polite?”
A nod.
“Did she need a lot of instruction or redirecting?”
“No. She was competent and helpful.”
“Did she discipline the children in an inappropriate manner?”
“No.”
“Did you get along?”
A shrug. “I wasn’t directly involved, so we didn’t chat much.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“My husband hired the nanny. My husband paid the nanny. My husband made sure the nanny performed her duties in accordance with his demands.”
Her response came off biting and left a lot to unpack.
As I pieced together another question, wanting to explore her statement further, my phone pinged with an incoming text. Considering we had a lot of moving parts surrounding Crowley’s abduction, I glanced at the screen.
Aslan.
Since Imogen was lost in the aviary world outside her window, not paying attention, I opened the text and read the message.
Adrenaline flooded my veins. I muttered a curse, loud enough to draw Imogen’s attention, and hustled to the door. “Sorry. I have to go.”
I connected a call to my husband as I bounded down the stairs, yelling to my partner that I was leaving.Immediately.
