Karen Woods Read online

  >The Devlin Diaries

  By

  Karen Woods

  Triskelion Publishing

  www.triskelionpublishing.com

  Published by Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com 15508 W. Bell Rd. #101, PMB #502, Surprise, AZ 85374 U.S.A.

  First e-published by Triskelion Publishing First e-publishing April 2005

  ISBN 1-933471-03-4 Copyright © Karen Woods 2004 All rights reserved.

  Cover art by Triskelion Publishing

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Chapter One

  “You have to be kidding, Harry,” a tall, slim, dark haired, man stated flatly from across the desk in the well appointed office of the President of Devlin Enterprises. “Please tell me that you’re joking?”

  “Hardly, Jase,” the older man replied from behind his desk. “I’ve sent Gil to fetch Mary Katherine.”

  “You really believe that she’s your daughter?” Jason Wilton asked in utter disbelief. “On the strength of a letter from a dead woman’s pastor? A woman, incidentally, who ran around on you, stole money from you, and left you while you were in the hospital on account of injuries from an accident when she was driving, but not before she was implicated in the death of her lover? A letter from this woman’s pastor? This is your evidence that you and Nancy O’Brien had a daughter together twenty-four years ago?”

  “My name is on Mary Katherine’s birth certificate as her father. I was still legally married to Nancy when Mary Katherine was born,” Harry replied, his voice tired. “Even if the girl isn’t my biological daughter, those two things could be enough to make a probate court give her a sizable award after I’m gone. It’s better to handle this now, one way or the other, than to ignore it. Better for all our sakes.”

  Jase shook his head, dismissing this. “I think you’re opening Pandora’s Box, Harry. You don’t need this kind of stress. It’s not good for your heart.”

  “Probably not,” the older man admitted. “But, I have to know if she is my daughter. And you know if you were in my place, you would have to know, as well.”

  Jase sighed. “Bringing her here is a mistake. You should go to her. That way, if things aren’t as they were claimed, the girl will have no idea of you’re worth. That would make her more likely to accept a small settlement.”

  Harry drummed his fingers along the desktop. “Look, Jase, I love you as though you were my own child. You know that. But, Mary Katherine may well be my own. Try to understand how I feel about this. I have to know. One way or the other, I simply have to know.”

  The younger man walked over to the window and looked out. Then he turned to face his stepfather. “I do understand, Harry. Just do me one favor?”

  “What?” The older man asked with obvious reluctance to give a blanket commitment.

  “Let me put Lou on it. Let’s have a report made on her. Just so there are no unpleasant surprises. It’s better to be prepared. We don’t know anything about her.”

  Harry’s lips tightened into a thin line. Then he nodded. “That would probably be for the best.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Tell him there will be only the original of the report,” Harry demanded. “Nothing for his files, nothing

  5

  in any hard drive anywhere. One copy of the report, in his own handwriting, and I get all of the notes. If Mary Katherine is my daughter, and there is anything compromising in her past, we can do some damage control, at least.”

  Jase nodded. “Are you going to tell Mother?”

  “Of course, I’m going to tell Audie about this. I’ve never kept secrets from my wife. But, this stays in the family for now.”

  Jase nodded in agreement. He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting with Peterson in twenty minutes to close on his property. Jack’s still not sure he wants to sell to us. We need his land for the Westbrooke project.”

  “I’m sure that you’ll get it for us.”

  Jase shrugged. “Not if I don’t have all the figures in my head. Is this all you need from me right now?”

  “Go study the file once more before the meeting.” The affection in Harry’s voice was unmistakable. Harry couldn’t have been more proud of Jase, if the younger man had been his biological, instead of step, son.

  A couple of hours later, the signed deed for the Peterson land lay on his desk. Jase looked at it and felt only marginal satisfaction. Ordinarily, he’d be more enthusiastic about this. Jack Peterson had been a hard man to convince. Jase worked for months trying to get this one parcel needed before the project could go forward. But, just now, Jase had other concerns on his mind. He looked at his wristwatch. Lou should be here any moment to be briefed.

  Louis Jacobs was the best private investigator Jase knew. The company used the retired FBI agent from time to time in profoundly sensitive matters. Lou would turn up the facts about Miss Mary Katherine Devlin. He only hoped the facts wouldn’t be as painful to Harry as he feared they might be. With a mother like Nancy, this Mary Katherine woman had to be a certifiable winner. God save them all! The last thing this family needed was another Nancy O’Brien wrecking havoc on them. Jase would do whatever he could to prevent Harry from experiencing another disaster of that magnitude.

  * * *

  Late into the night following her mother’s funeral, Mary Kate Devlin lay in her bed in the tiny, spartan, sleeping room she had rented only days before. Everything she still owned was contained either in this one room, in her very old car, in her locker and desk at the high school where she taught, or in the bank safe deposit box. The remainder of her possessions had been either destroyed or damaged beyond reclamation in the house fire.

  Nan Devlin had been a woman dearly loved by those who had known her. Although money had always been in short supply in the Devlin household, there had always been an abundance of love spilling over to

  6

  everyone with whom Nan had come into contact.

  The standing room only crowd this morning at the funeral had been ample evidence of how well Nan had been loved. Mary Kate couldn’t remember the last time that she had seen the church so full. Even the Hawkins’ wedding last spring hadn’t drawn this many people.

  Everyone knew Nan Devlin had been dying. The cancer had been inoperable. Her death had only been a matter of a very short time. Still, no one had expected that Nan would have had her last few weeks stolen from her so horribly.

  Mary Kate had thought “cancer” was the most frightening word she’d ever heard. But she’d discovered “arson” was even more hideous to live with.

  Uglier still was the haunting thought that Nan would have still been alive if Mary Kate had never testified against Edward Hastings. Somehow, she still could not fully believe Edward could have killed her mother, in spite of the evidence suggesting he had done so. Edward was a certifiable rat. True. Yet, he was a white collar, certifiable rat. Violence wasn’t his style. Or at least it hadn’t been, once upon a time during their fairy tale romance. But maybe he had changed in prison. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that someone became a more vicious person as a result of exposure to prison culture. Still, he had promised, sworn, he would make her pay for testifying against him. But she had expected the attack would be against her, not against her mother.

  Arson.

  Oh, Mother. Mary Kate thought with pain. I’m so sorry.

  The clock proclaimed in glowing amber digits that the time was 2:15 a.m. She had been lying in bed for hours, yet sleep eluded her. The last seve
nty-two hours had been a strain of a sort she hoped that she never would have to endure again. Still, Mary Kate feared the trouble was only beginning. She reached under her pillow and touched the pistol she’d just gotten today to replace the one she’d bought for protection after the mess with Edward. Mary Kate needed to protect herself. If Edward actually sought revenge against her, he’d have a surprise if he came for her. Yet, right now, the physical risk from Edward was less disturbing than the news she’d gotten after her mother’s burial.

  “Mother,” she whispered in an anguished tone, “Why didn’t you trust me?”

  Nan Devlin was a widow. Everyone knew that. Or at least, her mother had wanted everyone to think she was a widow. Everyone, except Father Smith apparently. Their parish priest had known that Nan’s ex-husband was alive and well and living in Virginia. How else would he have been able to send the letter to notify Harrison Devlin of Nan Devlin’s death?

  Her father hadn’t even come to the funeral of his ex-wife. Instead, he’d sent his attorney, Gil Jermon.

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  There was just something about the slate gray eyes of the whipcord lean, middle-aged, gray and balding, attorney she simply didn’t completely trust. She wondered if it was the messenger or the message, or possibly both, with which she was having the problem. Mary Kate felt utterly betrayed, bereft, and bewildered.

  There had to be an explanation for her mother’s actions. There just had to be. Mary Kate couldn’t bear the thought her mother had deprived her of a father without due cause. Yet, if her mother had a just cause for leaving her father and for letting her believe that the man was dead, what sort of man could her father be? Did Mary Kate really want to meet the man?

  The only way that Mary Kate was going to find out the truth was to meet the man, and ask questions. The man? Her father.

  The word “father” rolled around in her mind, sounding fairly alien. It would be an uncomfortable situation facing this man who her mother had loved, but she didn’t see any other way to discover the truth.

  But what was truth? And whose truth was she likely to discover?

  Great, she thought deriding herself, I’m sounding like one of my old philosophy professors. The next thing I’ll be asking “what is beauty?” Or how about “how far is up?”

  Her mind drifted away from her slight whimsy, back to the conversation she had with her father’s attorney, Gil Jermon. Now that she had time to think about it, she knew what made her uneasy about him. He was clearly concealing something, something vitally important.

  Just what that might be, she had no idea. But obviously, it was relevant to the situation.

  Yet, if her mother had really run away from her married life, had forsaken her marriage vows, there had to have been a good cause. Didn’t there?

  If Mary Kate now walked into her father’s sphere of influence, might she be drawn into the old problems? Nan had her reasons for keeping Mary Kate and Harrison Devlin apart. Surely, they had been good reasons, substantial reasons? Nan couldn’t have been merely vindictive. Behaving badly wasn’t like Nan Devlin.

  Mary Kate climbed out of bed, went over to the small, chain store, pressed wood and plastic veneer desk. After turning on the light, she wrote a brief note to Harrison Devlin telling him she was anxious to meet him during the coming summer vacation.

  He could take the note anyway he wanted. If he chose to read it as eager, so much the better. However, she meant exactly what she had written; the prospect of meeting her father filled her with anxiety. And it wasn’t of any remotely pleasant sort.

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  Chapter Two

  Mary Kate's ancient Volkswagen Beetle rolled to a stop at the gate. She got out of the car and walked around to the reinforced steel gate that was flanked by a tall white stone fence. She stretched and rolled her neck. It had been a long drive from Illinois. And now that she had arrived, she wasn't at all sure that she was in the right place.

  She double checked the written directions which her father's attorney, Mr. Jermon, had given her. Yes, according to his directions, this had to be the place. Yet, how could it be? Did her father really live here? Behind a stone fence and a steel gate?

  Just over three weeks had passed since she had buried her mother. She had turned in the last of her grades and had cleared out her desk at the high school where she had taught. Then she had loaded what few things remained to her into the VW's front trunk and the backseat before driving here, to meet the father she had never known.

  She doubted this was her father's place. She had to have made a wrong turn someplace. The directions her father's attorney had given to her had to have been wrong. Unless her father worked here. That was a possibility.

  A middle-aged, uniformed man, an armed security guard, came out of the gate house.

  “Can I help you?” He asked, his voice clearly indicating that he didn't think there was anything he could do for her. Mary Kate couldn't blame him for that. She knew she probably looked like something that the cat had dragged in, backwards, during a rainstorm. But almost twenty hours in a car could do that to a person.

  She forced a smile anyway. “I hope you can help me. I seem to be lost. I'm looking for Harrison Devlin.”

  “Why are you looking for the Devlin Estate?” The man asked, care in his voice.

  The Devlin Estate, Mary Kate echoed in her mind. The Devlin Estate. My father has an estate. This is his place?

  She sighed before replying, “I'm Mary Kate Devlin, and I'm...”

  The guard smiled at her broadly, “May I see your driver's license, Miss?”

  “My driver's license?” Mary Kate asked uncertainly. “Sure.”

  He looked at her license and nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Miss Devlin. My name's Charlie Davis. I'm the day man. I'll just call them at the main house and tell them you're on your way.”

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  “Don't call them, Charlie. I want this to be a surprise.” That's putting it mildly, she thought. Only, I'm the one being surprised.

  Charlie nodded. “Sure thing, Miss Devlin. Drive on through when the gate opens. The main house is about a half mile up and off to your left. You can't miss the house.”

  Both sides of the road, one could hardly call it a driveway since it was a generous two lanes wide and paved, were lined with wooden rail fencing. Mary Kate hated to think what the road and that fencing had cost, and how much it cost to maintain either of them. The paddocks behind the fences were well cared for and well used. Beautiful thoroughbred horses ran and played within the lushly green enclosures.

  Mary Kate stopped her car along the side of the road. Needing time to think, she climbed out of the car and walked over to the fence. Leaning on the top rail, she watched the horses for the longest time. What would she have in common with this man who was her father? Was this visit a mistake?

  Deciding that she had to know, she got back in her car and drove up to the house.

  House? No, that was far too poor a term to use in describing her father's home, “mansion” would have been a far more appropriate word, Mary Kate thought as she parked her car in front of her father's home. It must have cost a small fortune to build, and a fortune every year to maintain. She couldn't believe that people actually lived in this elaborate style. The house, and the image of the lifestyle behind it, offended her well-honed sense of economy.

  For the longest moment, Mary Kate was severely tempted to place the car into gear and simply drive away without so much as even announcing her arrival.

  Then her bout of insecurity gave way to anger. She and her mother had existed practically in poverty while her father lived in luxury. Taking a deep breath, she willed the anger to metamorphose into resolve not to let herself be intimidated. One thing that Nan Devlin had taught her daughter was that possessions did not make the person. And that lesson, oddly enough, had been reinforced by Mary Kate's relationship with Edward Hastings.

  The man who lived here was her father. He was the only family remaining to her. She hadn't driven to this e
xclusive area of Virginia, just to turn around without even meeting her father. She simply refused to do that.

  No one, nothing, cowed Mary Katherine Devlin! Not even a house grander than her most self-indulgent fantasy.

  She removed herself from her small, ancient, automobile, closing the door far more forcefully than was absolutely necessary. She climbed the several granite steps from the paved driveway up to the broad front veranda of the house.

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  Mary Kate wondered if she should have stopped somewhere and changed clothes before coming to her father's house. Although she looked perfectly acceptable, if a little rumpled, she knew that her thrift store jeans and chain store cotton shirt were a far cry from the clothing worn by the man who lived here. But then, it wouldn't have done much good to change. She really didn't have much that was any better than what she was wearing. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin proudly, she rang the doorbell.

  An older woman, wearing a black dress and white apron, answered the door. “Yes?” The woman queried, as she swept an appraising glance from Mary Kate's makeup free face and long hair confined in a single braid to the old, but clean and polished, leather running shoes on her feet. Mary Kate knew the image she projected.

  “I believe that I'm expected,” she replied. “I'm...”

  “Of course, you're expected. You're late. You were supposed to be here at eight and here it is almost eleven,” the woman replied, her voice sharp.

  “I believe there’s some misunderstanding,” Mary Kate tried to correct the woman.

  “The only misunderstanding, child, is in your not obeying orders on when to report in,” the older woman huffed. “If this is any indication of your efficiency, I think that you had better not bother unpacking your bag. Besides, you should have used the staff entrance at the side.” Then the older woman's scowl deepened into plain disgust as she looked over Mary Kate's shoulder and saw the ancient Volkswagen. “And for heaven's sake, move that monstrosity out of the driveway. Mr. Devlin would be having a fit to see that heap in his driveway. Park your vehicle in the graveled lot behind the garage. Then come to the staff entrance.”