I crossed my arms over my chest. “Someone’s trying to kill me,” I replied bluntly.
“I’m afraid I might know the reason why.”
Holt stiffened beside me and I gripped my purse, twisting the strap in my hands. “Maybe we should talk about this inside.”
Holt handed me the keys to the front door and then ushered me ahead of him, keeping himself between me and the lawyer at all times.
I perched on the end of the couch, anxiety and suspicion cloaking me. Holt sat down beside me and I slid a glance at him. “Did the police say anything about this to you?” I asked out of the side of my lips.
He gave a faint shake of his head.
Mr. Goddard heard and replied, “I didn’t discuss this with the police. Attorney-client privileges.”
“I’m not your client.” I was getting irritated with all of this talk I didn’t understand.
“No. But your father was.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. I shifted uncomfortably. “You must be mistaken. I don’t have a father.”
“Miss Parker, do you know who Tony Diesel was?”
I wrinkled my nose, thinking back to the commercial I saw earlier. “The rock singer?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t like rock,” Holt said.
“It’s not my favorite.”
He put a hand over his heart like I shot him and made a face.
I rolled my eyes.
“Tony Diesel was like a rock god,” Holt announced. “Such a shame about his death.”
I looked back at Mr. Goddard, who was shaking his head solemnly. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“Mr. Diesel named you in his Last Will and Testament.”
“Me?” I said, feeling more confused by the second.
“You are Katherine Eileen Parker, are you not?”
“I go by Katie.”
“You were born on March 15, 1991, and your mother’s name is Elena Marie Parker.”
“Was,” I corrected, my voice hollow.
“Excuse me?”
“My mother died several years ago.”
“I’m sorry, I only know the information that was on file. I didn’t look into your… situation. I really should have.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”
Mr. Goddard paused, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch and glancing at Holt as he did so. When Holt didn’t object, he laid his briefcase on the space between us and opened it, reaching in to grab a stack of bound papers.
Then he looked up.
“Tony Diesel named you as his sole surviving relative—his daughter, to be precise.”
I jerked like someone slapped me and stared at him so intently that my vision went blurry. Holt slipped an arm around my waist, but I scarcely felt it.
“He was not my father,” I whispered, pain slicing through my chest. If this was some kind of sick joke, it was very, very mean.
“In all honesty, I don’t know if he is or not. But he seemed to think you were. I have here a letter—a letter written by Elena Parker dated in the fall of 1990. She wrote to your father, explaining that she was pregnant, that he was the father.” As he spoke, he handed me the letter.
I unfolded it, staring down at the handwriting that belonged to my mother. I stared at it, feeling tears well in my eyes as I traced with my finger the letters—the words—that she wrote. My mother once held this piece of paper. The sentences written here were all thoughts that were inside her brain. Throughout the last seven years, I lost pieces of her, pieces that I still mourned but pieces that I would never get back. What little I did have burned the night of my house fire.
This letter… it represented so much. It was the last remaining piece of the only person I ever loved.
“Hey,” Holt said softly, running his hand over the back of my hair.
“Can I keep this?” I asked, looking at Mr. Goddard.
“Yes.” Then he slid the packet of papers—a will—over toward me. “I know this must be incredibly difficult to hear. Tony Diesel… well, if I may be frank?”
“Please,” I said, still gazing at the letter as a single tear tracked over my cheek.
“Tony Diesel was a brilliant musician. He never missed a show, loved his fans, and worked hard at his job.”
“I sense a but coming on,” Holt said.
“But he was also selfish, a drug addict, and could be a real bastard.”
“And?” I prompted.
“And, so he ignored your mother and this letter completely. He never acknowledged you as his daughter until he came into my offices with that letter a couple years ago and said he wanted to leave the bulk of his estate to you.”
“Why would he do that?”
“My guess? Because he didn’t have any other family and the friends he had were all very wealthy.” He paused. “And because he liked to cause a stir. He likely wanted to shock people one final time.”
“Well, I’m definitely shocked.”
“I brought the documents with me for you to sign.”
“What if I’m not really his daughter?”
The lawyer paused and looked up. “I’m afraid that with him and your mother gone, you might not ever know for sure. But it really doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?” Holt asked, sitting forward.
“No. Legally this money is yours.”
“And you think this is the reason someone wants to kill me?”
“I think it’s quite possible.”
“How much money are you talking about here?” Holt asked.
“Forty million dollars.”
Holt whistled between his teeth and sat back against the cushions. “That’s a pretty legit motive for murder.”
I couldn’t even comprehend that amount of money. It was more than any one person could ever need. “What if I don’t want it?” I said, the thought blurting from my mouth.
“Well, you could donate it all to charity.”
I nodded. I could do that. I could sign it all away and then never have to think about any of this ever again.
“Miss Parker, take some time to think about it. This isn’t something that needs to be decided overnight. The money can sit in the bank until you know for sure what you want to do.”
“Did he have a home? Cars?” Holt asked.
“Yes, he had several homes. All of them but one will be put up for sale. That money is yours as well.”
“What will happen to the one that isn’t for sale?”