Page 36 of West Bound

“How do you mean?” The accusation that I hadn’t been thorough chafes at my ego.

“I’m not the First Lady of Colorado’s daughter. I’m the mistress’s.”

I’m surprised, but I try not to let it show on my face. It would explain a lot. Why her father wasn’t treating her like a princess, the way I’d expect a man like him to treat a daughter. Why she’d been virtually banished and sold off like cattle the second she was old enough to be a commodity to him. I’m angry with myself for not having figured it out earlier.

“I see. So he didn’t want your father to have the money?”

“No. He was explicit that under no circumstances would my father have access to it. That I was only to have the money when I had moved out of his house and married.”

“So why not give it to your mom for safekeeping?”

“She died when I was ten, and I didn’t know her well. My father separated us as soon as he was able, claiming she was unfit. Moved me into his house, and my stepmother raised me. She hated me. She never said that, of course, but she always treated her real sons differently, and my father did too. I never understood what I did wrong, or why, if they hated me so much, they didn’t just let me stay with my mother.”

“Was your mother actually unfit like he claimed? She didn’t fight for you?” I know I’m asking painful questions, but I worry there’s more to this story than what’s on the surface.

Zephyrine’s nose wrinkles. “I don’t know, honestly. I suspect not. I have a feeling it was a convenient fiction that allowed him to have full custody and let him sweep her under the rug. She was admitted to a facility when I was very young, and she neverwalked out the front doors again. My grandfather came to visit me a couple of times, and I heard my father argue with him the last time I saw him.”

“And then your father corralled you into a marriage that I assume gave him access to some of your grandfather’s money?”

“All of the money. Well, they split it up. I’m not sure how, but I didn’t see any of it. I assume my father took the lion’s share.”

“So he trapped you in a bad marriage so he could funnel money to his political ambitions?”

“And his projects. He has a few going. It’s tough work to look wealthy too. All the glad-handing and golf outings and fancy suits. He liked to spend money.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with at least one of his ventures. Do you know anything about his projects? Have you ever worked with him?”

She stops mid-bite and looks up at me, her brow furrowing slightly.

“I feel like I’ve given you enough free information so far. I think it’s your turn to talk.” She slips a bite of eggs past her lips and then looks at me expectantly.

“What do you want to know?” I ask. As much as I want to build a foundation here, I’m not keen on offering any unnecessary details. I’m not one to talk about myself, and I don’t think there’s much she’ll like about my past anyway. She barely likes my present.

She shrugs and takes another bite, waiting for me to talk. When I let the silence stretch out, she gives me a mildly irritated look and puts her fork down.

“What should I want to know? How am I a pawn in this game? What do you want from my father that you think I can help you get?” She skips over the niceties.

“Relics.”

“Relics? My father doesn’t know the first thing about anything religious.”

“He does, at least in this one case.”

“Then you know something about him I don’t.” She shakes her head and waits for my explanation.

“He’s been collecting relics, illegally speaking. Black market finds. Stolen goods.”

“My father doesn’t exactly strike me as a cat burglar. Not that he has morals, but he doesn’t like getting his hands dirty if he can find someone else to do it.”

“He’s been using intermediaries, but it’s his money funding it. Your grandfather’s maybe. We figured out he was behind it a few months ago. That discovery is what led us to you. When I found you at a convent famous for its reliquaries, I assumed you must be on assignment for him.”

“Ah. That explains a lot. Well, the truth must have been a disappointment then.”

“It complicated things.”

“So he’s stealing relics, and somehow you think I might be able to do what exactly to help you?”

“I think you might be able to help us get them back.”