I held my breath. It was a hell of a bluff.
“I am your son. Liam is your son.” Bran pressed on. “For my sake and his, tell me the truth.”
“I...” Michael paused and closed his eyes.
I held my breath.
“I asked David Brayton to negotiate the deal with Molly, send her out of the city with the baby and out of my life. I asked him to make sure she’d never return in exchange for being fully provided for, her and the baby.” He drew a shallow, strangled breath. “I did not kill Molly. I did not arrange to have her killed.” His dark eyes snapped open. “I did not mean for any of this to happen.”
I felt dizzy. There was truth in his words. Maybe not what we wanted to hear but it was a confession of sorts.
Michael Hanover was scared—but he wasn’t lying.
Bran looked at me. I nodded, so slight only he could read it.
The unspoken question reverberated between us. If Michael Hanover hadn’t arranged for Keith Shaw to kill Molly Callendar and kidnap Liam—who did?
“Speaking of this baby...where is he?” Michael blustered. “You said you saw him, held him.” He spun around on Bran, eyes blazing as he zeroed in on his son. Fear twisted to anger in a split second, taking over. “But you never met her. You never knew she existed until this entire damned thing got started. So you’ve seen Liam after the murder, after she was killed.”
Michael sounded proud as if he’d finished a tough word puzzle. “So where is he?” His voice rose into attack mode, the tone he used with his underlings and his son. “Where is Liam?”
Bran didn’t flinch.
I cleared my throat.
Michael turned away from his son. “Where is he?”
“Safe,” I replied. “Until we figure this whole thing out.”
He glared at me. “With who?”
“He’s safe,” I repeated. “And he’s not going anywhere until Bran and I decide it’s time to bring him back.”
Michael looked at me, sizing me up. I wasn’t one of his employees who would bob and grovel to stay in his good graces. I didn’t pull a paycheck from any of his companies and I sure as hell wasn’t a recipient of any of his charities.
“I could call the police. Tell them you’re got the baby,” Michael threatened.
I rolled my shoulders back. “You could. But we’ll have to start talking about all those other little nasty details.” I cocked my head to one side. “You want to start this roller-coaster ride right now?”
He turned back to Bran. “Son...” he started.
“No.”
Michael peered at his son. “You could at least let me finish my sentence.”
“I know what you’re going to say and I’m saying no.” He sliced the air from side to side with his right hand. “I’m not going to tell you where Liam is so you can send your flunkies to get him. I’m not going to make her tell you either.”
Bran looked at me and I almost melted. The love and respect rushing from him almost knocked me off my feet. It didn’t matter what happened with his father. He’d already chosen a side and it was beside me.
“I didn’t kill Molly Callendar,” Michael repeated. “What sort of person do you think I am?” He directed this at Bran. “What sort of person kills an ex-lover in this day and age?”
“You’d be surprised. I see it on the news every day.” I glanced at Jazz, who was peeking at us from the top of the stairs. Her little red nose twitched as she watched us. The tip of her long white tail wove around her feet. “Usually before the weather forecast as they go to jail for a long, long time.”
Michael’s nostrils flared.
I continued my questioning. “But if it wasn’t you or Brayton, then who? Someone looking for payback, someone trying to destroy your reputation? You’ve got to have some idea of who else would want to do something as horrible as this.” I couldn’t help pricking him with that needle—his pride. “Because when this breaks, and it will, your name won’t be worth the ink to write it with.”
Michael lifted his head. “You’d be surprised what the business world will tolerate. Has tolerated.” A smile tugged at his lips as if we’d missed a private joke. “I won’t lie. I’ve made plenty of enemies. But I can’t see any of them going to this degree to get back at me.” He gave an angry shake of his head. “Not when there’s a child involved.”
“Was your affair with Callendar well-known? Aside from Brayton, did anyone else in the office know about you two?” I found myself leaning forward against the mental battering from Michael Hanover. The man dominated a room as much as Jess, if not more. “Secretaries, personal assistants, limo drivers?”
He gave a halfhearted shrug. “People in our world tend to see what they’re told to see—nothing else.” His lips curled into a wry smile. “You write the check, you write the reality.”
I wasn’t one to actively hate anyone but Michael Hanover was beginning to work his way up the ladder.
“We didn’t fool around in the office. I knew better. Met in hotel rooms away from her apartment, used private transportation, the usual options open to men in this type of situation.” He eyed Bran. “I know how to keep secrets. She learned how to. Molly knew there was nothing more to our relationship than pure physical attraction. I never promised her marriage or anything more than total carnal satisfaction.” A wolfish leer appeared. “But I’m sure you know about that, son.”
He looked at me. “Did he tell you about all the women he screwed before you crawled into his bed? All the debauched games he used to play? The man’s a chip off the old block.”
I fought back the urge to yawn. I wasn’t going to be diverted from the matter at hand. A quick glance at Bran confirmed he wasn’t falling for it either.
Bran pressed his lips together, showing the strain this questioning was putting on him. He wasn’t going to rise to his father’s baiting to get away from the topic at hand. But I could tell he was getting tired and annoyed and about to lose his temper in a horrible explosion of anger.
I wanted to hug Bran, tell him everything was going to be okay.
I couldn’t lie. Everything was definitely not going to be okay, not for a long, long while.
Silence wrapped around us like a death shroud, sucking the energy away.
“Enough.” I broke the standoff and stepped forward, taking the attention away from Bran. I dug out my cell phone and brought up the image of Shaw’s license. I shoved it in Michael’s face. “Do you know this man? Have you ever seen him before?”
Michael peered at the standard ugly government-issue image. “Can’t say that I do.” He swallowed hard. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he studied the picture. “Is he the one who killed Molly?” The sadness in his voice startled me, the sense of loss almost overwhelming his steely confidence.
It was the first sign of honest emotion I’d seen in the man since we’d met. The wavering in his voice, the sudden tenderness when he said her name, it showed the real Michael Hanover under all the smoke and mirrors.
“We think so.” I glanced toward the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. The Brown Betty held cold tea but I knew we had more beer in the refrigerator.
Unfortunately this wasn’t the right time for a good drunk. That’d come later.
I continued digging. “Do you have a specific nemesis, business or personal, someone who would do something like this? A reporter sniffing around for a story, a dubious business connection your radar told you would be trouble. A former friend out for revenge, a former lover.”
Michael stood for a minute in thought, his forehead creased with worry.