The Truth About Jane Doe. Linda Warren
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had to be insane if she thought we’d accept this. As I said, she was ill for a long time and she wasn’t thinking straight. I want this will broken and I want it done as soon as possible.”
“Was your mother making business decisions up until her death?”
“Yes, although Dad and I advised her. She would never relinquish her power.”
“Let me see if I can find the will,” Matthew said. He opened the file and quickly sorted through the contents.
“Here it is.” He pulled out the legal document and glanced through it briefly. “There’s a personal letter from your mother.”
“Oh, yes, about how she wants us to accept her decision.”
“It’s very heartwarming.” Matthew scanned the letter and wondered at Rob’s coldheartedness.
“Mother thought we took our inheritance for granted, and she wanted to give something to someone who’d appreciate it. It’s all crap. Mother just felt sorry for the girl. We will not accept an outsider inheriting Cober land.”
“I see,” Matthew replied, continuing to read through the papers. One small detail caught his eye. He glanced at Rob. “Did anyone mention the date on this document?”
“No, I don’t believe so. I just assumed she’d made it recently.”
“This document is dated twenty years ago.” Matthew turned the will around so Rob could read the date.
“What?” he choked out. In one swift movement Rob was on his feet, grabbing the document from Matthew’s hand. “Damn, how could this have slipped by us? By your father? Surely he knew the date and he never said a word! I only saw this letter briefly. It’s been in your father’s custody ever since. How could this have happened?”
Their eyes locked. Matthew didn’t miss the slur on his dad’s capabilities as a lawyer—and he didn’t like it. But he also knew his dad had been ill. “I have no idea,” Matthew said slowly, “but did anyone check for a recent will?”
“That was the only will at the bank where she kept all her important papers. I’m sure there isn’t another one.”
Matthew nodded at the document in Rob’s hand. “That’s going to make it much harder to break.”
“Dammit, I’m so tired of dealing with this.” Rob tossed the papers on the desk. “We only plan to spend the spring months in Coberville, so I want to get this settled. I need to concentrate on campaigning, instead of this bizarre mess.” He turned away. “Why the hell would Mother do this to me? To her family?”
Matthew folded his hands across the file. If he was going to represent the Townsends, he had to be completely honest. “I was only a kid when the baby was found, but I still remember the rumors.”
Rob swung around, his blue eyes dark with resentment. “My father and I have nothing to do with that girl’s existence!”
Matthew stared at Rob. His eyes didn’t waver as they challenged that statement.
“Okay.” Rob threw up his hands. “I’ve had my share of women and so has my dad. I’m not denying that, but if either of us had gotten some girl pregnant, she would have bled us for every penny. Instead, she leaves the baby five miles from our house. That doesn’t make any sense. Anyway, just look at C. J. Doe with all that black hair and those green eyes. She looks nothing like us, and no one’s going to make me believe that Mother knew anything about her birth. It’s all just rumors. The truth is, some teenager probably got pregnant and, being scared and alone, decided to leave the baby on the Watsons’ doorstep. Everyone knew how desperately Maggie Watson wanted a baby. That makes more sense than those ridiculous rumors about us.”
Matthew could see the fear in his eyes. Rob wasn’t sure the girl wasn’t a Townsend, but he was never going to admit any doubts. He was a Cober and a Townsend. He didn’t have to.
Suddenly Rob’s eyes narrowed. “Offer the girl a million dollars.”
Matthew frowned. “Pardon me?”
“I’ll pay her a million dollars to keep from dragging this through the courts. I’m sure the greedy little witch will take it.”
“I strongly advise against this. Let me—”
Rob cut him short. “I’m not asking for your advice. I’m ordering you to make her an offer. If you have a problem with it, I can find another attorney.”
Matt’s first impulse was to tell him to do exactly that, but he’d made a promise to his dad and he wouldn’t go back on his word. Besides, there was something going on that made him very curious—his dad’s reluctance to move on the case and the date on the document, among other things. He had to find the answers for his own peace of mind.
Giving in to Rob’s highhandedness wasn’t in his nature, though. He’d been an attorney, and a successful one, for a long time and he didn’t like being talked to like some hack for hire.
He got slowly to his feet, his eyes narrowed with a warning his colleagues knew well. “It’s my job to advise you.”
By the glint in Rob’s eyes, Matthew could see that he was debating whether to tell him to go to hell or to see if the New York lawyer could live up to his reputation. As the blue eyes darted away, Matthew knew the latter impulse had won.
Rob ran a quick hand through his expertly groomed hair. “Hell, man, I know you’re a good lawyer and I trust your judgment, but this whole situation has my family in turmoil. I just want it settled, and I’d rather spend the money than put the family through a long court battle.”
“If your mind is set on this, I’ll make the offer,” Matthew conceded. He knew it was useless to try to persuade him otherwise.
“Fine,” Rob muttered. “You’ll find her at the Watson place. I’ll be waiting for her answer.” With that he turned abruptly and headed for the door. Suddenly he turned back. “A note of caution. Don’t let her wrap you around her finger like she did your father.”
Matthew frowned. What was Rob talking about? His father wouldn’t be involved with C. J. Doe; he was the Townsends’ lawyer. He shook his head. There was so much he didn’t understand. The confusion made him more determined than ever to solve the mystery between his father and C. J. Doe.
LATE AT NIGHT, a light burned in the law offices of Dylan, Kent and Reed in Austin, Texas. Attorney Stephen Reed was hard at work. He had a lot to catch up on after six months in France. He heard a noise and glanced up. A big man with a mask over his face stood framed in the doorway. The gun in his hand pointed at Stephen.
“What do you want?” Stephen asked in a barely audible voice.
“Victoria Townsend’s will,” came the shocking reply.
“That’s confidential and—”
“Are you willing to die for it?” the man asked.
“No.” Stephen headed for the safe, which was installed behind a painting. With a shaky hand, he pulled back the picture. He quickly turned the dial to the correct numbers and the safe swung open.
He saw the gun kept there, on top of the papers. It was his only chance. His hand closed over the cold steel and he turned swiftly around. Before he could pull the trigger the man fired and Stephen fell to the floor.
The man jerked the mask from his face and stepped over the body. Pulling several documents out of the safe, the man searched until he found what he wanted. “Bingo.” The will of Victoria Cober Townsend, dated one year ago. Hastily he put the other documents back and closed the safe.
As he turned to leave, a rattle of keys sounded and a security guard entered the office. Another gunshot echoed in the room. The guard toppled to the carpet.
DALE WEEKS HELD the will in his hand and dialed a number. “I’ve got it,” he said.