THE MONTHS OF summer passed without word of the child or her mother.
The Davis Detective Agency had sent several reports from Amman, Jordan, indicating they had found Bayan’s father, Sheikh Abdul Basir Haddad, but he refused to discuss his family with anyone.
The agency was attempting to locate his daughter, Bayan, through marriage certificates, if possible. They also couldn’t find a birth certificate for Jamila Whitney Drummond, but said it wasn’t unusual for a devout Muslim family to renounce a child not of their faith, or clan.
The last report said their agents would continue checking hospitals, schools and institutional records for either of them. Neither name had been found on a death certificate, so far. It was going to take some time working through all the red tape, but they’d follow every lead to its conclusion.
Nessa seemed bright with hope after learning of her grandchild. Her health didn’t improve, but her outlook on life did. Every day she looked forward to news of Jamila.
The news of Neilan’s marriage and child was received with excitement and joy by everyone, except Carla. Ann could swear she looked concerned, and wondered if Carla was worried about how it was affecting Nessa’s health.
Upon receipt of Ann’s letter for an accounting of Nessa’s assets, Peter Lawrence called to talk with Mrs. Drummond. When he couldn’t convince her to withdraw the request, he asked to speak to Ann.
“Mrs. Henderson, I have all of Mrs. Drummond’s records in order. There’s no need to pursue this redundant effort,” he told her smoothly.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lawrence, but as Mrs. Drummond’s personal assistant, I want documents verifying all of her assets and their balances,” Ann said just as firmly. “You have her signature on the request. Are you refusing to comply?”
Silence issued from the phone for a second. “Not at all Mrs. Henderson, I’ll get my secretary started on the documents immediately, however it’ll take quite a bit of time and effort to accomplish your request,” he said, never intending to do anything, but delaying it as long as he could.
“I see. You’ve all of her records in order, but you have to take quite a lot of time and effort to send copies of the documents, is that correct?” she said, clearly seeing through his arrogance and tactics.
Silence again.
“I would think it should take only a day or two, at the most, to make copies Mr. Lawrence. I’ll expect them within the week,” Ann said firmly.
She could imagine him turning red with anger - the silence on the phone was so acute.
“Very well, we’ll get them to you as soon as possible,” Peter Lawrence flatly stated, hanging up the phone.
Ann knew he was mad, but frankly she didn’t care. She was upset with his condescending attitude and lack of response to a valid request from his client. Why he hadn’t been sending regular statements, was beyond her, and so unprofessional in her opinion.
Peter sat fuming at his desk.
How dare she question me and demand an accounting?
Then he recalled the millions missing from Mrs. Drummond’s accounts and that he had taken them.
I’ll make up some phony documents to account for the shortages. Without an audit, she’ll never know. But she has to go. I won’t risk everything for some nosy secretary. Mrs. Abernathy never cared, and Mrs. Drummond has no clue to her wealth. And now, with this search for a granddaughter, it could all blow up in my face. Time to talk to Carla.
In the years he had been stealing from Mrs. Drummond, he had cultivated a relationship with the nurse. He flattered her, kissed her, and told her lies to keep her under his influence.
He had no intention of harming Mrs. Drummond. After all, he had full access to her wealth and as long as she lived it would remain under his control. The only things he feared were discovery, a new Will, or the removal of her assets to some other firm. Carla was his willing spy.
Every now and again, he’d buy her something special. At first, flowers and trinkets kept her happy, but before long she wanted more. After all, he drove expensive cars, had diamond rings on his hand and had the money to treat her right. Peter was getting annoyed, but soon realized how invaluable it was to have an insider keeping an eye on things for him.
Then, Ann Henderson moved into the house, and started making trouble. He wanted her gone, but how? He’d have to be careful not to shake things up, too much.
This granddaughter thing could mess things up, as well. A new Will would be drawn up for sure, if she’s ever found. But, there should be plenty of time to work things out, before then. Maybe she’s dead, he thought happily.
Carla knew from the beginning how Peter felt about Ann, and her attitude toward the new assistant was evident. She saw Ann as an interloper and trouble maker. Now, Peter wanted to get rid of her somehow and Carla set about trying to aid the man she loved.
* * * *