The Parks Empire: Secrets, Lies and Loves. Marie Ferrarella

Walter said bluntly.

      Emily and Jessica glanced at each other. There was no surprise on either face. They turned back to their father.

      Walter perused one, then another of them, before he spoke. “There’s a traitor among us.”

      “Father!” Emily said in shocked, scolding tones.

      “It’s true.” Walter stirred cream into his coffee. He looked at Rowan. “Someone has been asking questions about the family, more specifically, our business dealings. And someone has been talking.”

      “What do you mean?” Cade asked.

      “I mean there are questions being asked about our personal affairs and…about things from the past. Old gossip is being stirred up.”

      Cade noted the hesitation as his father picked his words, something that had been happening frequently of late when they discussed the state of the jewelry business.

      What was Walter worried about?

      The question startled Cade even as it leaped into his mind. He knew he’d hit upon some part of the truth—their father didn’t want anyone delving into the past…because he was scared of what they might find out?

      The icy hand of premonition glided down his spine. Something from the past was haunting the old man, but it wasn’t ancient history that bothered Walter, Cade surmised. Instead, their father was worried about how this mysterious something from days gone by would affect the future. For some reason, Cade thought of Sara’s father, who had once been Walter’s partner.

      “What kind of questions? What gossip?” Rowan demanded.

      “Ancient happenings that don’t matter a damn,” Walter said, dismissing the queries scornfully. “I don’t want anyone in this family telling any outsiders a thing. Is that understood?”

      “No,” Cade said before his brother could jump in, “it isn’t. Who are you worried about? What do you see as a problem from the past? What makes you suspicious that someone is probing into our business because of it?”

      The familiar signs of anger suffused his father’s neck and face in a dull red. An artery throbbed visibly near his temple. Cade maintained his cool.

      Walter glared at him. “Maybe the new neighbor that you’re so taken with, for one. Her brother, for another.”

      “Who the hell are you talking about?” Rowan demanded.

      “Jeremy Carlton’s son and daughter,” Cade answered, putting two and two together and not liking the way things were adding up. He felt defensive where Sara was concerned. “Sara lives next door to me. Her brother is a detective with the SFPD. I don’t know if you remember, but Carlton was Father’s partner in an enterprise long ago.”

      “He drowned,” Emily said, her eyes widening. “His body was never found. I remember how upset Mother was. There was speculation that he was murdered.”

      “Mere rumors that don’t bear repeating,” Walter scoffed, his manner containing a warning and a threat. “I’ve hired a private detective. If I find any of you have talked about the family or the business, I’ll see that you’re cut off without a penny.”

      “God, I don’t believe this.” Rowan set his glass on the mantel so hard the stem cracked and a chip of crystal went flying across the expensive carpet. A pulse pounded in his temple, lending him the same cold, calculating look of fury their father had sometimes turned on them over the years when they pushed too hard or asked too many questions, especially about their mother.

      “Afraid we’ll let the world know our mother is in a lunatic asylum in a foreign country?” the younger son demanded, his voice just as scathing as the old man’s. “Afraid someone will find out your diamond dealing isn’t quite on the up-and-up as you would have everyone believe?”

      Walter surged to his feet. “Shut your mouth, boy, or I’ll shut it for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were stirring up trouble just for the hell of it.”

      The silence streamed like a force field throughout the gracious room, binding the five of them in a miasma of anger and resentment and dislike.

      “Yeah,” Rowan muttered. “Maybe that’s exactly what I’ve done. After all, I’m the black sheep of the whole bunch, aren’t I?” He glanced at his sisters, then at Cade. “He’s like a spider, wrapping everyone in his web of control. I’d advise all of you to get out while you still can. That’s what I’m going to do.”

      “Rowan,” Emily began worriedly.

      “Don’t say anything, Em,” their younger brother said bitterly. “Nothing would convince me to stay. I’m outta here, like forever.”

      With that he left them, going down the hall and out the back door without a backward glance. In less than a minute, the roar of his motorcycle blasted the house from the driveway, then faded into the night.

      “Father,” Jessica said. “I think you’ve gone too far this time.” She rose and set her cup and saucer aside, but gently. “Rowan won’t forgive you, and neither will I.”

      “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ask for forgiveness from my own children,” Walter said coldly.

      “Fine. I’m glad we had this little chat.” Smiling rather defiantly she, too, left.

      Cade stood. “You ready to go, Em?”

      “Yes.” Her lips trembled slightly as she tried to smile. “I’ll say good night to Wheelie.”

      “Send Stacy out, will you?”

      “Yes.”

      When they were alone, Cade turned to his father. “Is the house of Parks in trouble?” he asked, unable to hide the sardonic tone. “As your attorney, I need to know.”

      “No,” Walter snapped. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ll explain things to Rowan next time I see him.”

      “I think,” Cade murmured, heading for the door when he heard Stacy’s voice in the hall, “that might be a long time. Stacy, come say good night to your grandfather.”

      When he and his daughter arrived home, Cade breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t know what the mess was, but he was damned sure his family was in deep.

      After putting Stacy to bed, he went out on the back deck. The town house next door was completely dark.

      Hell, he wasn’t fit company tonight, anyway.

      “I beg your pardon?” Sara said, staring at the principal of the Lakeside School for the Gifted on Monday morning. The woman’s words made no sense.

      “We are no longer in need of your services,” her boss said again, her voice a monotone as if she read aloud from a dull script.

      “Are you saying I’m fired?” Sara demanded in disbelief. “You can’t fire me without cause. I have a contract.”

      The woman hesitated. “There’s a clause in it relating to student enrollment.”

      “I have a full class.”

      “You’ll receive payment for the semester, of course,” the principal continued as if Sara hadn’t spoken. “The secretary has the check. You may pick it up when you collect your things and sign out.”

      Sara started to protest further, but realized from the closed face across the desk that it was useless. Rising, she nodded with what dignity she could muster and went to clear her desk before classes started.

      Fortunately she didn’t have much this early in the school year. The supplies fit in one box that she could easily carry the three blocks to her town house.

      When she went to the office to collect her check and sign out, Rachel was there, two bright red spots of anger in her cheeks. “I just heard,” she said to Sara. “What is this all