The Hidden Heir. Debra Webb

were a gold digger as Brody claimed, she would have a price. In Keith’s opinion, she certainly hadn’t behaved like someone out for the money, but he would reserve judgment until he had all the facts.

      He walked up the dusty sidewalk. July’s lack of rain ensured dying grass and rising utility costs if one wanted to stay cool. Though Mrs. Mary Orrick’s home didn’t have the convenience of central air-conditioning, an individual unit droned monotonously in a window on the side of the house. A steady drizzle of water dripped from its rusty housing. Even with the sun dropping behind the trees in the distance, he already missed the cool air that had been circulating in his vehicle.

      The shade on the porch provided some relief as he knocked on the screen door. He couldn’t hear any sounds inside over the buzz of the air conditioner. An old pickup truck sat near the house; to his knowledge, Mrs. Orrick didn’t own any other means of transportation, not even a tractor. All farm equipment had been sold off in the past decade.

      The frame house looked badly in need of a paint job, possibly indicating the owner’s inability to afford proper maintenance despite selling off her assets. He kicked aside the sympathy that immediately filtered into his thoughts. He had to remain objective. Not that he couldn’t feel compassion for others, but before he allowed it to color his judgment, he needed all the facts.

      A twist of the doorknob drew his attention. The door cracked open just far enough for the home’s occupant to peek outside. “I don’t go to church and I don’t buy goods sold across a threshold. So don’t waste your time or mine.”

      “Hello, Mrs. Orrick. My name is Keith Devers.”

      The narrow opening widened slightly to facilitate a better visual inspection. Eagle eyes surveyed him carefully. “What do you want?”

      “I have a financial opportunity you need to be aware of.” He patted his briefcase. “If I may come in and speak privately with you.”

      “I don’t have any more land to sell.”

      Her voice told him to go, but the glint of hope in her eyes offered a different story. “Mrs. Orrick, this isn’t about your land.” He reminded himself not to let sympathy get in the way. Lots of folks in the farming business had suffered hard times. This wasn’t about that. This was about a man who had every right to know his son. “This is a far more lucrative offer.”

      She gave him a final once-over, then opened the door. “Just remember, I’m not buying anything.”

      Across the threshold, with the door closed behind him, Keith felt his confidence level rise. All he had to do now was convince this lady that reuniting father and son would be in everyone’s best interests. And, in fact, Keith did have a nice offer from Van Valkenberg. Van Valkenberg felt compelled to pay that back child support, which amounted to a sizable, inordinately generous sum. A small fortune, in fact. Enough to satisfy the financial needs of both Orrick women. Allowing the child to know his father would benefit everyone involved.

      “Sit if you like,” Mary Orrick offered as she took what was clearly her favorite chair, an upholstered rocker that looked well worn and sported a cozy doily on each wood-trimmed arm.

      He settled onto the sofa and placed his briefcase on the coffee table. When he leaned forward to open it, she said, “Before you go to any trouble, what’s he paying you?”

      Keith stilled. “Excuse me?”

      “That monster Van Valkenberg. What’s he paying you to try to find my daughter?”

      Several strands of gray hair had slipped from the clasp holding her hair at the nape of her neck. Decades of hard work under the brutal sun had aged her skin well beyond her years. She looked tired and impatient, yet a keen intelligence shone through that depleted veneer.

      Keith straightened, kept his gaze steady on hers. “Mr. Van Valkenberg’s attorney has retained the services of my agency to attempt to locate his son. There are hefty back payments of child support as well as estate issues that need to be settled. Your grandson is Mr. Van Valkenberg’s only heir.”

      Mrs. Orrick’s gaze tapered suspiciously. “Are you saying his estate needs settling? Is he dead?”

      This was where things got sticky. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that particular matter. I do have documents—” he reached for his briefcase again “—that provide for your grandson’s financial future and the back payments I mentioned.”

      Keith passed the legal documents assigning Avery Van Valkenberg—the child’s name on his birth certificate—sole beneficiary of Desmond Van Valkenberg’s estate. Another document outlined payment of an appropriate amount of accumulated child support. As uncomfortable as Keith felt allowing the woman to believe that Van Valkenberg was practically dead already, the papers were legitimate. The kid would be incredibly rich very soon. And the guy was dying.

      Mary Orrick studied the papers for a few moments, especially the final pages with Van Valkenberg’s notarized signature. In time she looked up. “You leave these with me, Mr. Devers, as well as your business card and I’ll see what I can do.”

      Combative? Uncooperative? Didn’t make sense to Keith. The woman appeared quite reasonable and he was sure this wasn’t the first time money had been offered for information leading to her daughter’s whereabouts. Then again, he doubted anyone had ever let her believe the monster, as she had called him, was dead.

      Keith gave her his card. “Use my cell number. I’m staying in a hotel in South Bend.”

      She looked at the card, raised skeptical eyebrows at him. “I’m not making any promises. We’ll see is all I’m saying.”

      Keith left it at that. He’d accomplished the first stage of his plan. The next move was up to Mrs. Orrick and her daughter.

      Outside, dusk had brought with it a noticeable drop in the temperature. He got into his car, turned around and drove down the long drive, away from the farmhouse in need of seemingly endless repairs.

      Careful not to get out of range of Ben’s latest gadget, he parked a short distance up the country road that served as the main route into this part of the county. He checked the settings, tucked the earpiece into place and waited for Mary Orrick to do what any mother would.

      Less than ten minutes after Keith had left the house, someone inside, Mary Orrick no doubt, placed a call on a cellular phone. Three rings later, a soft female voice answered. “Hello.”

      “They sent someone new this time.”

      Silence.

      Keith analyzed the one word the other female had uttered in greeting. He couldn’t conclude with certainty that the woman was Ashley Orrick since he didn’t have a voice pattern with which to compare it, but his instincts were leaning that way. He watched as the small screen on the handheld computer relayed the signal to one of Ben’s contacts. All he needed was ninety seconds and that same contact would triangulate the exact location of the woman Mrs. Orrick had called.

      Thank you, Ben.

      “Not Brody?”

      Again Keith played the cautiously chosen words over and over, committed each nuance of sound to memory. In his opinion, there was now no question about the woman’s identity.

      “No,” Mary Orrick said. “A Keith Devers. He’s from some private investigations agency in Chicago. He brought papers showing a high six-figure number Van Valkenberg’s people are ready to pay in back child support, if you can believe that. But the real kicker he delivered is the estate papers. I think maybe Van Valkenberg’s dead or on his deathbed.”

      “He can’t be dead, Mother. It would have been in the papers.”

      Mother. Definitely Ashley.

      “Come on,” Keith muttered as he watched the small LCD screen. “Give me a location.”

      “True. But I’m looking at these papers. They name Jamie as the sole heir to his estate.”

      Jamie.