Chapter 170 Finding Luke
Quinley had never been to the Davis family estate. She had no clue who this Hudson guy even was.
But if Jeremy said Hudson knew something, then he definitely knew something.
It was late when Quinley finally got back to her south city apartment.
Zachary's tall, lean figure was posted up outside her door again.
"Quinley, didn't I tell you not to go out alone at night?"
With Jeremy locked up, Zachary was worried the Davis family would come after her in retaliation.
But she shook her head. "I'm fine."
Quinley unlocked her door. Zachary followed her inside.
"Mr. Jennings, were you close with Jeremy before all this?"
The question came out of nowhere.
Zachary settled onto the sofa, looking at her with surprise. "You went to see him tonight, didn't you?"
Sharp as ever. He'd figured out her movements instantly.
She hadn't planned to hide it. "Yeah."
"Keep your distance from him. He's dangerous—you get that, right?" Zachary's voice was firm. "I don't want you getting dragged into another shitstorm. Take some time off work. I'm giving you leave. Stay home and rest."
Quinley thought he was blowing this way out of proportion.
"I told you, I'm fine."
Her voice rose a few notches. She caught herself and went quiet.
Zachary's dark eyes shadowed. He let out a slow breath.
"What did he say to you?"
Quinley dipped her finger in water and wrote numbers on the table surface.
"1208"
She finished writing and looked up at Zachary's face, watching for any reaction—even the tiniest flicker.
But she was disappointed.
Zachary's brow just furrowed deeper. "What is this?"
Confusion was genuine in his voice.
"Jeremy asked me to tell you this. He said you'd know what it means."
Zachary stared at those numbers. The water slowly evaporated, and he still couldn't make sense of it.
But Jeremy wouldn't have Quinley deliver random numbers. They had to mean something.
"I don't know."
Zachary sighed heavily.
He stood and started pacing, hand propped under his chin.
Four random digits. What the hell was Jeremy trying to say?
"Besides the numbers, what else did he tell you?"
Zachary pressed.
Quinley hesitated. She shook her head.
She didn't want Zachary knowing about her orphanage investigation.
"Nothing else."
They both fell silent. After a long stretch, Quinley broke it.
"Mr. Jennings, shouldn't we pay Mr. Nilson Davis a visit? With everything that's happened to Jeremy, if we do nothing, people might talk."
Quinley was thinking strategically.
Jeremy had barely made it back to Rosewood City before landing himself in jail—no chance to even visit his father Nilson properly.
The Davis and Jennings families went way back. As the younger generation, Zachary visiting Nilson during this mess would be appropriate. Expected, even.
If Quinley had made this suggestion before, Zachary wouldn't have thought twice. She was better at navigating social politics than him—always had been.
But now a sliver of suspicion crept in.
Still, even with his doubts, he didn't push.
"You arrange it. We'll go soon."
"Okay."
The next day before closing time, Quinley knocked on Zachary's office door.
"Mr. Jennings, the gifts for Mr. Nilson Davis are ready. Want to take a look?"
She handed him a detailed list.
He scanned it. Not extravagant, but not cheap either. Just right.
Quinley's work was always solid. He could count on that.
"You did well."
"I'll contact the Davis family. We can go together after work."
Quinley seemed almost eager about it.
"Alright."
Zachary agreed.
At six that evening, they headed to the Davis estate.
The moment Lucas got in the car, he started grumbling. "Mr. Jennings, going to the Davis place right now—won't people think we're rubbing it in?"
"Rubbing what in?"
Zachary leaned back casually.
"Jeremy just got arrested, and we're showing up at his family's house. Isn't that basically admitting we had something to do with it?"
Lucas thought they should be avoiding any appearance of connection.
"Mr. Murphy, that's exactly why Mr. Jennings is going—to shut down gossip before it starts." Quinley's voice was patient, explanatory. "The Davis and Jennings families have history. As the younger generation, it's proper for Mr. Jennings to visit."
Lucas opened his mouth to argue, but Zachary shot him a look cold enough to freeze hell over. He shut up.
Quinley had contacted the Davis family ahead of time. Hudson was already waiting at the gate to welcome them.
From a distance, Quinley studied Hudson carefully.
He was old—really old. Wisps of silver hair fluttered in the breeze.
When Zachary's car approached, Hudson immediately had someone open the gates.
"Mr. Jennings, you're here. Mr. Nilson Davis is waiting inside."
Hudson shuffled toward Zachary.
Quinley took another careful look at the old butler. One of his legs was lame—he walked with a pronounced limp.
He led the way. Zachary followed. Quinley and Lucas brought up the rear, carrying the gifts.
In the sitting room, Nilson was slumped in a carved wooden chair. He didn't look well.
"Mr. Davis."
Zachary greeted him as he entered.
He sat down and made polite conversation with Nilson.
The butler excused himself from the room. Quinley noticed and stood too.
"I'm going to get some air," she murmured to Lucas, then quickly slipped out.
The Davis family's old estate didn't have a huge courtyard, but it was exquisitely maintained.
The front yard was filled with bonsai trees—each one shaped into some intricate design.
Quinley bent down, pretending to examine them closely. Truth was, she couldn't tell good bonsai from a houseplant. All those twisted shapes looked the same to her.
"Ms. Promise, you enjoy these too?"
Hudson appeared, smiling faintly at her.
"Did you grow all of these yourself?"
Hudson nodded.
Quinley immediately gave him a thumbs up. "You're amazing! I remember when I was really little at Luck House, Luke loved these potted plants too."
She deliberately dropped Luke's name.
Hudson's face was a map of wrinkles and age. When Quinley mentioned that name, his cloudy eyes flickered—just for a second, he looked away.
"Hard to believe you grew up in an orphanage."
He picked up his pace—well, as much as someone with a limp could—and grabbed a hose to water the flowers.
"Let me help you."
Quinley moved closer.
"Hudson, you knew Luke, didn't you?"
Hudson's voice went cold. "Never heard of him."
He was halfway through watering when he dropped the hose and started to leave.
Quinley followed.
"Mr. Davis told me you know where Luke is. Please, won't you tell me?"
She kept her voice low, pleading.
Hudson's expression changed completely. His weathered face clouded over as he stared at Quinley with sudden intensity.
"Why are you looking for Luke?"
"I want to find my biological parents. Please, won't you help me?"
Hudson studied her for a long moment, then asked, "What was your name at the orphanage?"
"Susan."
She used Susan's name without hesitation.
Hearing that name, something flickered in Hudson's eyes again.
Quinley could feel it—something was off here. Something hidden beneath the surface.
But she didn't push. Just kept looking at him.
After what felt like forever, Hudson suddenly spoke in a gruff voice. "Come with me."
He led Quinley toward a small storage shed beside the main house.