Page 65 of Paternal Instincts
Nixon grew still, color rising in his cheeks.
I produced the photograph of Clementine that Costa had printed, placed it on the wooden island top, and slid it toward Nixon. “She doesn’t look like a forensic accountant to me. She looks an awful lot like the nanny you employed recently.”
Nixon stared at the picture of Clementine. He blinked, lips parted, evidently stunned by the revelation.
I didn’t give him a chance to explain.
“Your wife implied yesterday that you had the power to stop this.” I waved a hand about the room, indicating everything that was happening. “She impliedyouwere responsible for Crowley’s disappearance. Thatyoumight even know where he was. In fact, we have a ransom note that suggests our perpetrator has information that could potentially ruin you.”
I tapped the photograph of Clementine. “Is this it?”
The dam overflowed. Nixon made no move to stop the tears streaming down his face as he shook his head repeatedly. The horror of my accusation showed plainly on his face. “It’s not what you think.”
“For the record, Nixon. I don’t think you personally or intentionally did anything to your son, but I do believe your actions—or secrets—” I tapped the picture again—“could have been the catalyst.”
“I was not having an affair with our nanny. Are you kidding me? I adore my wife. I’ve loved her since I was old enough to understand love. She’s the only woman I’ve ever been with or wanted or need. I told you that.”
“So her finding out about an affair could utterly destroy your marriage, right?”
“There’s nothing to find out. There’s no affair.” He slammed a fist on the counter. “I told Genie it was a meeting with a forensic accountant because she’s been sensitive lately. I didn’t want to upset her. I couldn’t very well tell you it was with Clementine, or she’d wonder why I’d lied to her. It would have looked suspicious.”
“It does look suspicious. Why did Imogen fire your nanny?”
“I don’t know. She claims she didn’t want help anymore.”
“Sounds like a silly reason, considering her circumstances.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Who knew about Clementine?”
“Knew what?”
“Did Jude know? Is that his leverage? You drop the charges against him, and he won’t reveal your affair? The boy was taken to ensure you cooperated?”
“There are no charges, and there is no affair.”
“I’m not convinced a twenty-year-old student who lives with her parents could pull this off, but we’ll bring her in for questioning today. If you don’t want to tell us the truth, we can get it from her.”
“What are you talking about? What truth? I’m telling you the truth.”
“Where is your son, Nixon.”
“I don’t know.” He blubbered and sobbed. “Why are you being like this? I met with Clementinebecausemy wife fired her. She was upset. I’d promised her a job for the summer, and I met with her to tell her I would try to convince Genie to change her mind. I offered her compensation for lost hours. She refused to take it. We had coffee, for fuck’s sake. That’s it. Is that a crime?”
The tension in the room sizzled until a meek voice asked, “Daddy, why are you shouting at Detective Quaid? He’s my friend.”
Nixon gave me a look that translated everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. How dare I. How dare I accuse him. How dare I do this in his house with his child present. How dare I make friends with his daughter when I should be locating his missing son. How dare I suggest an affair or that he was involved in Crowley’s kidnapping.
“Go do your job.” Nixon’s voice was low and threatening. He stared for an extra beat before turning to his daughter and opening his arms. “Come here, baby girl.”
Sparrow crawled onto his lap, and Nixon hugged and kissed her head, telling her Daddy was fine. He wasn’t shouting. He wasn’t angry. Everything was going to be okay.
Jordyn found juice in the refrigerator and poured her a glass.
Sparrow drank it down, giving herself a purple mustache.
After the girl had finished her drink and had another cuddle in her father’s arms, I spoke. “We have a few more questions, Mr. Davis.”
