Birthright

and turned a blind eye on his other women.”
    Her lips twisted, making it clear what she thought of such a woman. “I, however, preferred clear vision. When I discovered he was having another affair while we were involved, I confronted him. We argued, bitterly, and broke it off. I could tolerate quite a bit, but learning he was cheating on me with his secretary was just a bit too much of a cliché.”
    “What can you tell me about her?”
    “Young. I was nearly thirty when Marcus and I became involved. She was barely more than twenty. She dressed in bold colors and spoke in a quiet voice—a contrast I mistrusted as a woman. And once I knew about her, I remembered how she’d so often greeted me with a little smirk. I have no doubt she knew about me long before I knew about her. I heard she was one of the few from his practice here Marcus took with him when he went to Seattle.”
    “Do you know anything about Carlyle or her since?”
    “His name comes up from time to time. I heard he divorced Lorraine, and was surprised when he remarried it wasn’t the secretary. I believe someone told me she married an accountant, had a child.”
    She tapped the pen again. “You’ve intrigued me, Mr. Cullen. Enough that I may ask a few questions in a few quarters myself. I don’t like being used. If it turns out Marcus used me in this way, I want to know about it.”
    “He’s dead.”
    Her mouth opened, then closed again with her lips a long firm line. “When?”
    “About two weeks ago. Cancer. He was living in the Caymans with wife number three. I can’t get answers from him directly. His son is reluctant to take our evidence seriously.”
    “Yes, I know Richard slightly. He and Marcus were estranged, I believe. Richard was, and is, very devoted to his mother and his family. Have you spoken with Lorraine?”
    “Not yet.”
    “I imagine Richard will slap you legally, in whatever way possible, if you try. She doesn’t get out socially as much as she did. From what I’ve heard she’s quite frail. Then she was always frail. Will you be in Boston long?”
    “I can be—or I can be reached wherever I am.”
    “I’d like to satisfy myself about this. Leave me a number where you can be reached.”
    D oug settled into his hotel room, searched a beer out of the minibar and called Lana.
    The man’s voice that answered simply said, “Yo!”
    “Ah . . . I’m trying to reach Lana Campbell.”
    “Hey, me too. Is this Doug?”
    “Yeah, it’s Doug. What do you mean? Where is she?”
    “Keeping at arm’s length so far, but I’m hopeful. Hey, sexy lady, phone’s for you.”
    There was some noise, some giggling—which he identified as Ty—then a very warm female laugh. “Hello?”
    “Who was that?”
    “Doug? I was hoping you’d call.”
    Something that sounded like an ape, followed by hysterical childish laughter drowned out her voice. He could hear movement, then the background noise dimmed.
    “God, it’s a madhouse in there. Digger’s cooking. Are you in the hotel?”
    “Yeah, just. Sounds like quite a party.”
    “It was your idea to install Digger in my house without asking me, I’ll point out. Lucky for you, he’s a very reassuring, not to mention entertaining, presence. He’s wonderful with Ty. Thus far, though it’s a struggle, I’ve been able to resist my lust for him. Though he warns me it’s a losing battle.”
    Doug dropped down on the bed, scratched his head. “I’ve never been jealous before. It’s lowering to have my first experience with it over a guy who looks like a garden gnome.”
    “If you could smell the spaghetti sauce he’s got simmering, you’d be insane with jealousy.”
    “The bastard.”
    She laughed, then lowered her voice. “When are you coming home?”
    “I don’t know. I’ve talked to some people today, hope to talk to more tomorrow. I might fly out to Seattle before I come back. I’m just playing it by ear. Does that mean you miss me?”
    “I guess I do. I’ve gotten used to you being here, or a few miles away. I never thought I’d get used to that sort of thing again. I suppose I should ask you what you’ve found out.”
    He stretched out on the bed, basking a little in the idea that she missed him. “Enough to know Carlyle liked women, and more than one at a time. I’ve got a gut feeling the secretary is a key link. I’m going to try to focus in on finding her. I meant to ask, am I supposed to bring you back a present from Boston?”
    “Of