The Carter Legacy: 3 Book Box Set, page 1
The Carter Legacy
By
Wendy Saunders
Also By Wendy Saunders
The Guardians Series 1
Mercy
The Ferryman
Crossroads
Witchfinder
Infernum
The Carter Legacy
Tangled Web
Twisted Lies
Blood Ties
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This book is the intellectual property of the author and as such cannot be reproduced in whole or in part in any medium without the express written permission of the author.
Copyright © 2018 Wendy Saunders
All rights reserved.
Published by Cyanide Publishing
www.cyanidepublishing.com
CONTENTS
TANGLED WEB
TWISTED LIES
BLOOD TIES
About the Author
TANGLED WEB
‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive...’
Sir Walter Scott, Marmion, Canto vi. Stanza 17.
1.
Cassandra glanced down at the slim elegant watch at her wrist, then took another small sip of her coffee and gazed out of the window onto the busy street outside. It was fall, her favorite time of the year, when the tree lined sidewalks were carpeted with leaves of sunshine yellow, ruby red and rich gold. The colors were so vivid, it always felt like the moment she stepped out of her apartment she was walking into an oil painting.
Although they’d managed to snag a bit of Indian summer, the hot sweltering temperatures had now given way to cooler air that held a slight bite. Before long they could be buried under three feet of snow, with ice skating at Rockefeller Center and sledding in Central Park. But for now, she was content to just sit and watch her fellow New Yorkers bustle by.
Her curious gaze was drawn from the picture window to the door, as a tinkle of chimes signaled another customer entering the cozy little coffee shop. Her gaze came to rest on a young mother, whose laughing eyes and smiling face gazed lovingly down at the two little girls holding her hands. She watched them silently as they made their way up to the counter, her stomach clenching involuntarily, as she watched the older child help her little sister up onto the softly padded stool. The mother watched them with an indulgent smile, obviously taking great pleasure in her daughters.
Trying to ignore the tightening around her heart Cassandra looked away, taking another sip of her now tasteless coffee to wash away the dryness in her mouth.
‘Miss Grayson?’
She looked up into the warm brown eyes of a the rather stocky man standing in front of her. She’d been so transfixed by the woman and her daughters, she’d not seen him enter in the woman’s wake. Her head tilted thoughtfully as her eyes grazed over him. He was well into his fifties, at least, with salt and pepper hair and a day’s worth of stubble. His white shirt was tucked over his protruding belly, into the rather optimistically sized waistband of his well-worn jeans. He wore a brown corduroy jacket, and had already loosened his burgundy colored tie and unbuttoned his collar, despite the early hour.
‘Mr Cooper I presume?’ she replied carefully.
‘Coop,’ he corrected with a friendly smile as he extended his hand.
Shaking it politely, she indicated the seat opposite her.
‘Please…’
He threw her another smile, obviously trying to put her at her ease, as he slid into the booth. His jeans squeaked slightly against the worn aqua leather of the seat, which was patched in the corner with duct tape. Smoothing back his thick, bushy, grey-shot hair, he pushed his wire rimmed glasses back up, into the permanent groove at the bridge of his nose.
‘Sorry I’m late, cab got held up. There was an accident over on…’ he stopped for a moment and then waved his hand dismissively. ‘You know what? It doesn’t matter.’
She watched as he pulled an old brown leather briefcase into his lap and retrieved a scruffy reporter’s notebook, and a pen which looked as if it had been chewed by a playful puppy. Tucking the briefcase down under the table by his feet he flipped the pad open, absently placing the end of the pen in his mouth.
Her mouth curved slightly in amusement. So, not a puppy then.
He opened his mouth to speak, but paused and looked up as a red-haired waitress sauntered over with a jug of coffee.
‘What can I get you honey?’
‘Coffee, straight up,’ he smiled.
Nodding she grabbed an empty mug and set it down in front of him, pouring out the dark liquid with barely a glance. Once she had disappeared he turned back to Cassandra.
‘So,’ he sipped the bitter drink with a wince, ‘how may I help you Miss Grayson?’
‘Before I engage your services Mr Cooper,’ she began quietly.
‘Coop,’ he repeated.
‘I require certain assurances,’ she continued, as if he hadn’t interrupted.
‘Assurances?’ he quirked a brow. ‘What kind of assurances?’
‘Your utmost discretion,’ she blew out a small breath. ‘No one can know you’re working for me and certainly no one can know what I’m looking for.’
Coop leaned in closer, his eyes glittering with interest and his voice instinctively lowering.
‘I can assure you Miss Grayson, I value my clients’ privacy one hundred percent. I can also assure you that I come very highly recommended. If you want I can provide references.’
‘That won’t be necessary Mr Cooper,’ she shook her head. ‘I have absolute trust in the person who recommended you to me. If they hadn’t vouched for you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. However, once this conversation is concluded you will understand my need for confidentiality.’
Watching him carefully she reached into her bag and pulled out a thick envelope, handing it to him. He opened it, unfolding the letter contained within it.
‘A standard non-disclosure agreement?’
She nodded quietly, ‘for both our protection.’
Shrugging he gripped his battered pen, scrawling his untidy signature along the bottom of the form. Folding it neatly back into the envelope he handed it to her, his eyes afire with curiosity.
‘If it gives you peace of mind.’
‘It does,’ she tucked it back into her bag.
‘Well,’ his lips pursed speculatively as he tapped out a thoughtful staccato on the worn table top. ‘Now that’s settled, why don’t you tell me what I can do for you?’
‘I want you to find my sister for me Mr Cooper,’ she replied bluntly.
‘I take it this is not a straightforward missing persons case?’
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him carefully.
‘You used to be a cop?’ it was more a statement than a question.
‘Is it that obvious?’ he smiled, sipping his tepid coffee.
He’d spent nearly thirty-five years on the force before a bad knee, three divorces and impending retirement, had convinced him to hang up his badge and segue into private work. Over the last few years he’d managed to carve out a solid reputation as a PI.
‘Mr Cooper,’ her voice cooled slightly, ‘you came to me highly recommended by my lawyer and good friend Rhys Fletcher. As I said, I trust his judgement implicitly. I don’t mean to be rude or cause offense, but there is a very important question I need to ask you and I’m afraid I’ll have to be blunt.’
‘Then by all means,’ he indicated for her to continue.
‘Where exactly do your loyalties lie Mr Cooper?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t follow,’ he frowned.
‘Do they lie with your client or with your former colleagues at the NYPD?’
His easy-going expression suddenly hardened.
‘It depends.’
‘On?’
‘Whether, or not, my client has committed a crime and I am being asked to look the other way’ he replied, his voice wary.
She nodded. ‘I believe that answers my question.
‘Miss Grayson,’ he frowned, ‘I have to say, you’ve lost me.’
‘Mr Cooper, if you take my case there is a possibility that the police department were involved in some kind of cover up. At the very least, they looked the other way.’
‘That’s a very serious accusation,’ he leaned forward intently.
‘I said possibility,’ she replied. ‘I’m not accusing anyone at this point.’
‘Well…can’t say you haven’t piqued my curiosity,’ he leaned back and scratched his stubbled chin. ‘Why don’t you start at the beginning?’
She nodded slowly, drawing in a deep breath.
‘My name isn’t Grayson…it’s Carter; my parents were Elizabeth and Philip Carter.’
‘Carter?’ he frowned at the familiar names, trying to place them. Suddenly, as if a light had switched, on his eyes widened and his mouth fell open. ‘Carter?’ he repeated incredulously, ‘Philip Carter? The billionaire? Owner of Trans-Atlantic Airways?’
‘Yes,’ she replied simply.
‘Didn’t he die, back in the nineties?’ He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, squinting as he mentally flipped back through decades old police files. ‘He was alone at the house drinking, if I’m not mistaken, fell and cracked his skull open. I remember bits of it; it was big news at the time if I recall.’
‘That was the official story.’ r />
‘What?’ he frowned, ‘are you telling me that’s not what happened?’
‘He wasn’t alone that night,’ she replied quietly.
His eyes burned into her but he kept silent, waiting for her to tell her story. She took a shaky breath, knowing she’d kept her silence long enough.
‘He wasn’t alone that night,’ she repeated, her voice firmer this time as her clear gaze caught and held his, ‘and I know this for certain because…I was there.’
‘You couldn’t have been more than a baby at the time.’
‘I was five,’ she replied. ‘I was home that night with my mother and my sister.’
‘Are you saying there was more to his death than just an accident?’
‘I can’t say for sure,’ she shook her head. ‘What I remember is fragmented, seen through the eyes of a child. But what I can tell you is, that night…the night my father died, was the last time I ever saw my sister.’
‘Your sister?’
Cassandra nodded. ‘She disappeared that night.’
‘You think something happened to your sister that night and that it was covered up?’ he answered slowly.
Her eyes locked on his and what he saw forced him to suck in a sharp breath. Shaking his head, he tried to recall the details of the case. He hadn’t been the lead detective but he had known who was.
‘I’ll need to get my hands on a copy of your father’s case file. But to be honest from what I recall there wasn’t much of a case, it was ruled an accident.’ He grabbed his notebook and started making notes in an untidy shorthand only he seemed to understand.
‘He was found in the study, wasn’t he?’
‘He was found there, yes.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He didn’t die in the study,’ she admitted quietly. ‘He died in my bedroom.’
He closed his eyes for a moment, the dread churning in his stomach along with the bad coffee, at the uncomfortable implication of that revelation.
‘Miss Grayson?’
‘Cassandra,’ she sighed. ‘If I’m baring all my deepest, darkest secrets here you may as well call me by my first name.’
‘Cassandra,’ he asked softly, ‘did your mother have something to do with your father’s death?’
‘I honestly can’t tell you,’ she shook her head frowning. ‘I’ve tried to remember, but it only comes back to me in fragments, sometimes in my dreams. But no matter how hard I try I can’t remember everything.’
‘Why don’t you tell me what you do remember?’ he said gently.
‘I remember my mother screaming, then she dragged me from my room and locked me in hers. My nightgown was torn and covered in blood. I remember thinking mother was going to be so mad at me for ruining it. My sister Chloe was still in my room and I was crying for her. I just wanted Chloe. I beat my hands against the door until they hurt, but nothing. They left me all alone in that room, I don’t know how long for, but it seemed like hours. I remember lying on the bed and crying.’
She looked up and saw his troubled expression.
‘My mother is not a maternal person Mr Cooper. Most of my childhood memories are of the nannies, or of Chloe. She was older than me by eight years; she was the one who loved me and took care of me. If I hurt myself, she was the one who kissed it better. She was the one who would crawl into bed with me and read me stories.’
‘You were close then?’
‘She was my whole world,’ Cassandra replied softly in remembrance. ‘While I was in my parents’ room I could hear raised voices on the other side of the door. One was my mother’s, but the other was a man’s voice. Finally, Chloe was sent into the room with me. She crawled onto the bed next to me and put her arms around me. I remember that she was shaking so badly. She told me mother was taking me to Grandma’s house and that she wasn’t going. She was being taken someplace else. Then the man came in and told us it was time to leave.’
‘Did you recognize the man?’
‘I think he used to work with my father. I don’t remember his name. I just know that neither Chloe nor I liked him,’ she closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. ‘I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to be separated from my sister. He had to drag me kicking and screaming to the car…they didn’t even let me say goodbye to her.’
‘That was the last time you saw her?’
She nodded mutely.
‘What about your mother?’ he asked. ‘Did you ask her about your sister?’
‘Constantly, but she either ignored me or yelled at me. On the rare occasions I actually got a response it was always the same. Chloe had been sent to an all girls’ exclusive boarding school in Europe.’
‘But you suspect that wasn’t true?’
‘There are just too many things that don’t add up,’ she frowned. ‘She said that Chloe was out of control and rebellious, which is why she was sent away to school. But she was the quietest, most well behaved of the pair of us. If anything, I was the unruly child. But even so, that was seventeen years ago and in all that time she’s never called, never written, never visited, has never tried to contact me in any way.’
‘Have you considered that whatever did happen that night affected her so badly she needed to distance herself from it? Get away? Start a new life? I mean, it does happen.’
‘Not Chloe,’ she shook her head adamantly. ‘She promised she would come back for me, that she would find me, and Chloe never broke a promise.’
He nodded in understanding.
‘Besides,’ she added, ‘I’ve spent years looking for her myself. There is no record of her ever being at any boarding school in Europe or the US.’
‘No offense Cassandra, but you’re a civilian. I’m not surprised you’ve been unable to find anything. You simply don’t have the right tools at your disposal.’
‘Mr Cooper,’ her voice hardened, ‘don’t patronize me. I run a library and I have full access to all the city’s records, not to mention the Internet, and I am also a fully trained researcher.’
‘Cassandra,’ he laid his hand on hers, ‘I’m not patronizing you.’
Sighing in frustration she shook his hand loose and pulled a manila envelope from her bag. Handing it to him she watched as he emptied the contents onto the table. All it held were copies of a birth certificate, a social security number and a couple of faded photos.’
‘This is all you have left of your sister?’
‘Yes,’ she murmured, picking up one of the pictures and staring at the two little girls with their arms wrapped around each other. ‘I remember the day this was taken,’ she stroked the surface of the picture, tracing the line of her sister’s face with her fingertip.
‘Cassandra?’ he said gently when she fell silent, staring at the photo, lost in the past.
‘I gave up a long time ago on finding her alive Mr Cooper,’ she breathed painfully. ‘I just want the truth, I want to know what happened to my sister.’
He nodded slowly.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he replied tucking the envelope and its contents back into his briefcase, along with his notepad and his trusty mangled pen. Just as he was about to get up and leave he paused and turned back to Cassandra thoughtfully. ‘Just one more question?’
She looked up at him expectantly.
‘Why Grayson?’
‘After that night, I never returned home,’ she told him softly. ‘My mother took me to my grandmother’s house in the Hamptons and returned to her life in New York, as if nothing had happened. When the reporters found out where I was they hounded us constantly. My Grandmother gave me her maiden name and I was sent to boarding school as soon as I was old enough, so I could start over with no one knowing who I was.’
‘Your mother just abandoned you?’ he frowned.
‘As I said Mr Cooper, my mother isn’t a maternal woman. After my father died and my sister disappeared, she didn’t want me around her.’
‘Did she say why?’
‘She just didn’t,’ she replied.
He could sense she was holding something back, but he wouldn’t push her, not yet. After all, it had to hurt like hell for any child to be abandoned by a parent, even an emotionally absent one.
‘You eventually came back to New York? Why?’
‘Because I’ve always loved the city,’ she replied softly. ‘New York was always home. Besides, Chloe made me a promise. She promised she’d find me and I figured this is the first place she’d look.’
