Page 68 of The Writer
“Yes. I'll be heading there in the morning, and I have a feeling there might be more info about all this in the attic. If I remember correctly, all the family records are up there, along with old documents and journals. Could you get there to meet me?” He’s quiet, not surprising given his clear hatred of meeting anywhere that isn’t on his terms. “I’ll double your pay to go there.”
“You don’t even know how much your brother pays me.”
The phone signals another incoming call, and I watch Seffi’s name flashing. “Look, I’ve got to go, but just get there, will you? I want to run a few things past you in person. We’ll be there for lunchtime - ish.”The phone goes dead, which would normally annoy the fuck out of me, but this time I swipe Seffi’s incoming call before I bother trying for annoyed.
“Ivy?” she says.
“Hi. Are you there yet?”
“Yes, we’ve just pulled into the grounds, and there’s no one here.”
“Well, there will be in the morning. I'll drive up first thing.”
“Landon isn't coming? Considering his absolute insistence that I fly here immediately because of safety, I thought you'd all be here by now.”
“I think my kidnapping got Father in a tizz, and then Landon started getting bolshie about getting us all together, and before you know it, you’re on a plane and here we are. Well, there you are. I’m clearly here. Still can’t find Neve. Has she called you at all?"
“No. Not for a while. But you’re okay?”
“Obviously.” I keep my eyes on the screen, scribbling down names as they come into view and then downloading the documents. “And who’s this guy then?”
“What guy?”
“The one who got you out of trouble?”
“Blake Rhodes. Saviour, hero, and all-round sex god. Do you know anything about a Davis family?”
“What?”
“Davis? I’m looking into all this dead author stuff. It seems we had a great-great-uncle, who I thought died young. Now I’ve found out he apparently had a son with a Claire Davisbefore he died, but all I can find on the son’s birth certificate is the Davis name, regardless of the father being named as George Broderick. There’s no follow through for a Broderick continuation, and I don’t know any Davises, so who are they?”
“There was a Daniel Davis at the funeral. But it’s a reasonably common name, isn’t it? He said he was a friend of Grandfather and knew Grandma.”
“Grandma Elizabeth?
“Yes, and that he knew Great-Grandma, too. But I didn’t talk with him for long. You know what it was like that day. I just wanted to get out of there and get off my heels.”
“Hmm.”
“How about talking some more about the sex god?”
I snort and keep looking at the screen, relatively amused that she’d want to talk about this sort of thing now. I assume being with an older guy has finally introduced her to the marvels of sex. “Tomorrow, alright? I’ve got some more things to get through, and then I’ve got to see if he’s even talking to me given the last few hours. You might meet him tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Seffi?”
“Yes?”
“Tell Derek to lock that place up tight tonight. Double-check every door and window. I’m being serious. Whoever took me and Blake weren’t messing around. We don’t need you going missing, too.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Love you. I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you too.”
Swiping the screen to end the call, I go back to the reports I’m searching through, desperate to find some more evidence of something. I mean, this is reasonably scandalous in its own right, but there has to be more than just other members of the family we didn’t know about. While that’s intriguing, what difference does it make in the long haul? And why would a kidnapping happen because of it?
