that they frequently played at this time, theyâd each been held suspect as the babyâs father. The best way he knew of to eliminatesuspicion, though, was voluntary DNA testing. Flynt Carson had decided that he needed to be the one to care for the baby. Child Protective Services had taken his DNA first and run it by a lab. Flynt wasnât the father.
Unwilling to have even a hint of scandal hovering over him, especially in view of his future aspirations, Spence had volunteered to be tested next.
Obviously, Ashton had the results in his possession now. He tried to read the private investigatorâs face, attempting to decide whether the smile there meant that the search had come to an end by some other means, or simply that his DNA test had been negative. He knew that there was no way on earth there was even a close match. This was not his baby.
Spence suppressed a sigh. He was due for some good news. He gestured to the chair in front of his mahogany desk.
Ashton shook his head. âCanât stay, Harrison. Just came by to tell you that youâre not the babyâs father.â
Spence fixed the other man with a look. âI could have told you that.â
âYou did.â The detectiveâs reminder was droll. âBut the police department likes to see proof and verify things for themselves.â
Spence supposed that was what he and the others were paying this man for. To play the devilâs advocate on their behalf as well as to find the identity ofthe babyâs parents. He leaned back in his chair. âSo who are you going to verify next?â
They both knew the answer to that. âWith you and Carson in the clear, that leaves Tyler Murdoch and Michael OâDay.â
Poor Michael, Spence thought. When theyâd tapped him to fill Luke Callaghanâs place to round out the foursome, the man had undoubtedly thought he was in for a morning of relaxation. With Luke away, gallivanting to places only the incredibly rich had the privilege to go to at a momentâs notice, it seemed like an innocent enough thing to do. Michael hadnât known what he was in for. It could be that Michael OâDay just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or not. Either way, things had to be done by the book. That meant checking out a man whose history with the group did not go back nearly as far as the rest of them.
When Ashton began to leave, Spence asked, âWant my prediction?â
The P.I. paused in the doorway, politely waiting.
âYouâre not going to find a match. Youâre wasting your time.â
âBut Iâm not,â Ashton pointed out. âWe need to prove that none of you is the babyâs father, that it was sheer coincidence that you found her when and where you did, at a time and place the four of you are known to be every Sunday.â The detective smiled. âBesides, itâs what youâre paying me for.â
Spence nodded. âYes, I guess we are. Sorry if I sounded testy just then. This whole thingâ¦â He waved his hand, letting the sentence just fade away. He couldnât put his restlessness into words. Spence looked back down at the brief heâd been reading when the private investigator had walked in. The meeting was over. âKeep me posted, Ben.â
âCount on it.â
The door closed firmly in his wake.
Spence reached for the phone to tell Tyler to expect Ashton soon. Instinct told him Tyler would be next on the investigatorâs list rather than Michael. It stood to reason. The man was trying to beat the police department to the punch and clear Tyler before any gossip via the news media took hold. Nothing the news media liked better than to find dirt sticking to a group of ex-combat heroes whoâd managed to return from the Gulf War and work their way back into the civilian world, garnering money and prestige along the way.
Everyone loved a hero. And for some unknown reason,