Chapter Three
An hour later, Jackson had made a sizable dent in his to-do list for the party the next day. The Alexander family had always held a get-together on Memorial Day weekend, but it used to be held at his parents’ farm. It wasn’t until after his wife died that his mother made the request to have it at Jackson’s place.
It was her way of keeping him from withdrawing from the world, something he’d been all too happy to do after Cynthia passed. However, it took an iron will to resist his mother when she wanted something, so he’d been hosting for the past three years. This would be the first year in his new house.
It was also the first year he was actually looking forward to it.
An image of Raina sitting in her backyard, looking so lost and alone entered his mind. If he ever got locked out he’d have plenty of people to call. His parents, his brothers, and a whole slew of cousins. He couldn’t imagine not having anyone to help him out. Having a big family wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought to but after today… Well, he was suddenly really aware of how much easier his life was because of his family.
He groaned thinking of all the ways he’d put his foot in his mouth around her. Not only had she heard Nick call her a vulture, but then he’d implied that beautiful women didn’t need to be smart.
It was no wonder she’d walked off.
He was so distracted that the shrill ring of his cell phone on the desk next to him set his teeth on edge. He grabbed the phone, cursing as the pile of invoices under the device scattered across the floor.
“Jackson Alexander.”
“You are gonna love me for this one. I’m a genius. Tell me I’m a genius!”
“You’re a genius, Mac. Now why the hell are you calling me? Aren’t you supposed to be finding a group for the song we’re working on?”
He stooped to pick up the papers off the floor, sure that his assistant was off task as usual. Some people thought he was crazy for keeping him around after the debacle with Alana but Jackson believed in loyalty. They’d been friends for years and Mac claimed nothing had happened between him and Alana. Jackson believed him.
The fact that he’d witnessed his friend pushing her away before they knew he was there helped considerably.
“That’s why I’m calling. I found a group that’s perfect. They’re all gorgeous—well, most of them—and even better, they’re local.” Leave it to Mac to be more interested in the length of their legs than the quality of their voices.
“Can they at least sing? The last time I heard a group you found, only one member could even carry a tune.”
Jackson winced at the memory of the pitiful group trying to sing a cappella. They had all looked like cover models, which was reason enough for Mac to be interested. Jackson couldn’t hold it against him, though. Except for his obsession with beautiful women, Michael MacCrane was the hardest-working assistant Jackson had ever had and also a good friend.
He’d just learned not to trust the man’s instincts when it came to young female singers.
“I’m telling you, Jack, these girls have voices like angels. But hey, you don’t have to take my word for it. Girls, sing a few bars for the boss.” There was a rustling sound as if Mac had put the phone down before he heard someone clear their throat.
It was just a simple rendition of the jazz tune, “Cry Me a River,” but when they were done, Jackson pumped his fist in the air.
This was the break he had been waiting for.
* * *
Ridley rolled over and yawned. Napping had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she was too anxious to sleep for more than a few minutes here and there, so now she was tired and groggy. She reached over to the nightstand where she’d left her cell phone charging.
Still no messages.
“Come on, Raina. I really need you to call back.” She blew her hair out of her face and sighed. It was time to consider the possibility that Raina wasn’t going to get in touch, but they’d never been mad at each other this long before.
Their relationship had been strained ever since she’d decided to look for their father. Their mother had been only too glad to tell them as girls what a good-for-nothing their father was, and how getting herself saddled with two kids was the worst mistake of her life. She’d adored their mother, but she hadn’t been the easiest person to love, even when you were trying. She could understand why Raina didn’t want to meet their other parent when the one they’d grown up with had made them so miserable.
But Ridley couldn’t help hoping maybe their father was different. Maybe he did want them. Maybe she’d finally find the family she’d been wishing for her whole life. Not that all her wishing had done her any good.
If she had to be locked out, this was a pretty nice place to be, but she still wanted to get to her sister’s house. Imposing on family was one thing—imposing on a perfect stranger was an entirely different matter altogether. Especially when the guy in question was sort of a jerk.
Now that he knew she’d overheard him and that his chances of getting her in bed were nonexistent, he was probably more than ready for her to leave. Having her here was sure to cramp his style when one of his girlfriends came over. Although if his brother was to be believed, he didn’t have many girlfriends.
“There has to be something I can do.” The waiting was going to drive her insane. She hated feeling helpless. She sat up and picked up her phone. A few taps later, the contact information for Agent Ian Graham was displayed on her screen. Her thumb hesitated over the number for a moment before she tapped it to initiate the call. It rang three times before she heard his gravelly voice.
“Agent Graham? It’s Ridley Wells.”
“Good to hear from you, Miss Wells. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. Are you out of town?”
“Just for the weekend. Why?”
“I’m finishing up the accident report.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve been trying to get a clearer picture of what your friend was doing in the days leading up to his death. You said he was a private investigator, right?”
“Yes. I hired him to do a search for my father.”
“How much did he charge?”
Ridley frowned. “He charged by the hour. Usually about a hundred unless it required surveillance. So far, he hadn’t needed to do that. He was mainly looking through paperwork, I think. I know he pulled my mom’s credit history. He was trying to figure out exactly where she was living and who she had contact with around the time of my conception.”
“Did he seem to be having money problems?”
“I didn’t think so, but I’m not really sure. Why are you asking all these questions? What does this have to do with his car accident?”
“We’re not sure. We noticed some unusual activity in the past month and thought you might be able to help us put the pieces together.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about his financial situation.”
“You didn’t wire him fifty thousand last week?”
“Fifty thousand? Uh, no. I don’t have that kind of money,” Ridley stated.
“Miss Wells, I don’t want to alarm you but I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that the FBI isn’t usually involved in cases like these.”
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
“Mr. Finemore was spotted with a person of interest in one of my cases. Alberto Moreno. The FBI has been monitoring Mr. Moreno for years. He’s suspected of arms dealing, racketeering, drug trafficking, you name it.”
“Moreno? As in the Moreno crime family?” Ridley squeaked.