Payback. Jasmine Cresswell

into an alcove, with at least half a dozen tables between me and the exit. I chased him into the parking lot, but there was no way to stop him driving off once he made it into his car. I discovered it’s a lot more difficult to catch somebody than it looks in the movies.”

      “I guess you didn’t manage to get the license number of his car as he drove away?”

      “Actually, I did.”

      “You did?” She glanced up, startled. “Could we trace it, then?”

      “I already had a private investigator track it down before I contacted your mother. The car was a brand-new Mercedes, and it was registered to a man called Stewart M. Jones.”

      For a second, Kate was puzzled. Then she realized that—of course—if her father wanted to avoid being discovered he couldn’t go around calling himself Ron Raven. “If you have those vehicle registration details, my mother and I should be able to track the car’s owner back to an address, shouldn’t we? I assume you have to give an address when you register a car in Virginia?”

      “Apparently, yes. But my investigator reported that Stewart Jones sold the vehicle the day after I chased him into the parking lot. What’s more, the address given on the accompanying paperwork isn’t valid.”

      “He gave a fake address?” Kate realized her surprise was misplaced. “Well, of course he would have to, I guess, since he was trying to stop you tracking him down.”

      “The address wasn’t fake in the sense it didn’t exist. It just wasn’t Mr. Jones’s current place of residence. According to my investigator, somebody calling himself Mr. Jones lived at the address for a few weeks back in the summer. But he moved away from that particular location a couple of months ago.”

      She sighed. “In other words, the car is pretty much a dead end in terms of tracking down Mr. Jones.”

      “I’m afraid so.”

      “You clearly believe that Stewart Jones is simply another name for Ron Raven, and that Ron sold his car rather than risk being traced.”

      “Yes, that’s what I think.” Luke shrugged. “But take my opinion for what it’s worth. Not much, according to the cops. They’re convinced Ron is dead and that I’m a crime-scene junkie with delusions of seeing dead people. And they’re the experts, after all.”

      She wished she could dismiss his story as the ramblings of a nutcase, Kate thought miserably, but his information was almost more compelling because he was so willing to provide her with reasons not to accept it. Luke was among the more down-to-earth people she knew, and she simply couldn’t picture him disrupting an enjoyable dinner with his sister to conjure up imaginary visions of a dead man.

      “I appreciate the effort you put into tracking down the man you saw,” she said finally. “It sounds to me as if it really could be my father, so it’s probably just as well you didn’t manage to catch up with him.” She forgot for a moment to hide her feelings and allowed bitterness to seep into her voice. “I don’t see how it can bring my mother anything but grief to have proof that her lying, cheating husband is alive.”

      “Ron left behind three children as well as two wives,” Luke said, his voice still quiet. “What does it say about his relationship with them…with you…if he’s determined not to be found? Don’t let him off the hook, Katie. You deserve better from him. For that matter, so do your half brother and sister.”

      The absolute last thing she wanted was for Luke to be kind or sympathetic. Kate could feel her composure fraying by the second, unraveled by his gentleness. This would be an excellent moment to make her escape, she decided. So far she and Luke had managed to avoid inflicting serious bodily harm on each other, which had to be a good thing. Not to mention a precarious thing. It would be smart not to tempt fate.

      “You’re right.” She inclined her head in acknowledgment. “If my father is alive, he has a lot to answer for. Except that I’m not sure I care enough to ask the questions. Right now, I feel he doesn’t deserve that much attention from me.”

      “What about your half brother and sister?”

      “I don’t know. I haven’t found the courage to meet them yet. Fortunately for me, I was in Europe when Adam brought Megan to Chicago after they got married.” She stopped abruptly. This was getting too personal again. “Anyway, thanks for all you’ve done, Luke. Sorry about the earlier hostility. I was worried about my mother and took out my worries on you.”

      She dredged up a bright, meaningless smile, just to show that they were both grown-ups, and that this was a business conversation despite the intensely personal nature of the topic. “Would you give me the name of the detective you used to track the vehicle registration tags? If my mother should decide to pursue an investigation, it only makes sense to build on the inquiries you’ve already made.”

      She felt Luke’s gaze rest on her face, but she avoided looking up. She was getting the same shaky, desperate feeling that had afflicted her in the weeks immediately after she learned Ron Raven had been murdered. She despised herself for still caring about her father, but she could only hide her emotions, not banish them. Luke had always been able to see through her protective barriers more easily than other men and that was a problem, given how badly she wanted to keep her feelings to herself. With all the evidence they already had of Ron Raven’s deceptions and double dealings, it was humiliating to go to pieces over the fact that her father apparently cared about her even less than she’d previously realized. She didn’t want Luke to know how…abandoned…she felt at this moment.

      Thankfully, he made no more personal comments. “The investigator I used is called George Klein,” he said. “George is ethical, efficient and easy to work with and I’m happy to recommend him. If you decide to go ahead with an investigation, let me know. I have a couple of other tips that might help. Or they might be completely useless. To be honest, my guess is that your father has already moved on to a different city. He most likely ditched the Stewart Jones identity at the same time as he sold the Mercedes. He’s a man accustomed to planning ahead, so he would have had another identity already waiting for him to step into.”