Unbreakable Bond & The Missing Twin. Rita Herron
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brick building in the heart of the downtown area. He parked in the adjacent parking lot, and they walked to the entrance in silence. Her father hated to be interrupted during business, and Nina considered turning around, but Slade took her arm as if he sensed her anxiety and they went inside the building.
A pretty red-haired receptionist wearing a short, black pencil skirt greeted them from the counter where she was pouring coffee. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m Nina Nash. I’m here to see my father.”
“Oh, you’re Mr. Nash’s daughter,” the young woman said with a startled look. “I’m Rochelle. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Nina wondered faintly if her father was sleeping with the young woman but dismissed the thought. She didn’t really care about his personal life. He’d dated dozens of women since her mother’s death, but never committed to anyone.
Nina watched Rochelle disappear up the steps with the coffee, her long legs stretching beneath the skirt. A minute later, she returned with a wary smile. “He says to go on up.”
Slade placed his hand on the small of her back as she climbed the steps, but her stomach fluttered with nerves. Her father’s diplomas, photos of business acquaintances and newspaper clippings about his deals lined the walls.
The door stood ajar, and Nina squared her shoulders, determined not to crumble in front of her father no matter how he reacted to her visit.
* * *
SLADE IMMEDIATELY SIZED up Mr. Nash from the edge of his office doorway. A compulsive, anal workaholic. His office was neat and orderly, dominated by a walnut desk and credenza with a stocked bar at one end. Dark leather furniture created a seating arrangement around a fireplace near the bar. Books on finance and business filled a bookshelf on the opposite wall. And Nash was dressed in a three-piece suit that probably cost more than Slade’s monthly salary.
The man was lean and tall with light brown hair, an angular face and hands that had probably never touched dirt in his life. He looked cool and focused.
Except for the slight hint of emotion that flickered in his eyes the moment he saw Nina.
“Daddy?” Nina said softly.
“Nina.” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. “This is a surprise.”
“I know,” she said, then glanced quickly at him. “Can we come in?”
“Of course.” Nash gestured toward the seating area, and Slade followed Nina over to the love seat, where she sat down.
“Mr. Nash, my name is Slade Blackburn. I’m with Guardian Angel Investigations.”
“I know who you are.” Disdain edged Nash’s voice, then he turned toward Nina and sympathy softened his expression. “Dr. Emery phoned to tell me you hired another private investigator, Nina.”
Nina clasped her trembling hands in her lap. “Yes. I assume you read the papers and know that GAI discovered that the hospital fire and explosion weren’t accidental.”
Nash gestured to the bar in offering, but Slade shook his head, declining his silent offer of a drink. Still, Nash removed a bottle of water from a small stainless-steel refrigerator and pushed it into Nina’s hands. “Yes, I heard the news. But I don’t see what that has to do with you.”
Nina stiffened but accepted the water bottle and set it on the table. “They uncovered new evidence, proving people were wrong about how the fire started. That means they might be able to find new evidence about Peyton.”
“God, Nina.” Nash scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “You have your teaching degree, a job now. I thought you were finally moving on.”
“I’ve tried,” Nina said. “But if there’s a chance that the police missed something, I have to at least look into it.”
Nash angled his head toward Slade. “I don’t know how much my daughter shared with you, Mr. Blackburn, but she can’t go through this again. The baby didn’t survive, end of story. You’re wasting your time and giving her false hope if you continue.”
Slade chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’ve reviewed the details of the case, Mr. Nash. Considering the fact that the baby’s body was never recovered, and the chaos that night, there is a possibility that someone could have kidnapped the baby.” Slade removed the bagged doll and knife.
“And just last night someone left this for Nina. Doesn’t it seem coincidental to you that someone would leave this on her porch only hours after she reopened the investigation?”
“Oh, hell.” Nash gave Nina a worried look, and paced back to his desk. Frowning, he opened a drawer, removed a folder and walked back toward them. Then he shoved the file toward Slade.
“This is the report from the psychiatrist who treated Nina after she lost Peyton. Take a look at it and tell me if you really think there’s a case here, or if Nina is just unable to accept the truth.”
“Dad, you can’t show him my medical records.” Nina looked appalled. “They’re private.”
Nina’s father stroked her shoulder. “I just don’t want to see you put yourself through this kind of pain again.” His voice dropped a decibel. “And I certainly don’t want you to have another breakdown, Nina. I want to see you happy and building a new life.”
Slade’s hands tightened around the folder at the sincerity in Nash’s voice. For a moment he debated looking at the file, but he’d vowed to find out the truth, and he’d told Nina she had to be completely honest with him.
So he flipped open the folder and skimmed the report. It corroborated Hood’s story. According to the psychiatrist’s notes, Nina had been in denial, depressed and delusional. The episode with the doll and the knife through its heart symbolized her guilt and grief over not saving her child, and the anguish in her own heart.
Slade’s stomach knotted. Had he been a fool to believe her? Was Hood right—had he fallen for her big, anguished eyes because he wanted to be her hero?
A hero for someone because he’d failed time after time after time…
* * *
“I AM NOT DELUSIONAL,” Nina said emphatically. “Yes, I was grieving, sad, even depressed but not delusional.”
“Are you taking antidepressants again?” her father asked.
“No,” Nina said. “I didn’t want to take them years ago, and I don’t intend to ever again.” She jutted up her chin, forcing conviction into her voice. “I’m perfectly rational, and I did not stab that doll and put it on my porch. I heard a noise in the night, then got up and saw a shadow outside.” Her voice grew stronger. “Don’t you care that someone is tormenting me, Dad?”
“This is the way it all started.” Her father gave Slade a disgruntled look, then lowered himself into the chair opposite her and pulled her hands into his. “Please go see the therapist again, Nina.”
She cast a sideways look at Slade, but his dark eyes probed hers as if she were a bug he was trying to dissect.
Anger fueled her temper. She could handle whatever she discovered about her daughter, but she didn’t know if she could tolerate the pitying or condescending looks again. “I should have known that you wouldn’t help me, that you wouldn’t believe me. You don’t want anything to mess up your perfect world, do you, Dad?” She jerked her hands away and stood. “You didn’t want a pregnant daughter, or an illegitimate child, and you certainly wouldn’t have wanted a preemie who might have been handicapped.”
“That’s enough, Nina.” Her father’s eyes glittered with rage. “I love you. Everything I’ve ever done has been with your best interests in mind.”
Nina gripped her shoulder bag, and faced her father. “If you wanted what was best for me, you’d believe me. You