Prologue from The Daughter He Never Knew by Linda Barrett

Los Angeles, CA

Was it the beginning of his life or the end?

Jason Parker removed his headset and stared into the glass booth at the Latin heartthrob whose voice had captivated millions of listeners in recent years. The singer had just finished recording and looked like he was in another world. A good sign, thought Jason as he waited for the vocalist to emerge. Luis Torres would spin Jason’s words and music into gold...or platinum...as he’d done several times before.

This particular lyric, however, had come at a high price. With every word he wrote, pain traveled from his heart to his hand. But he’d kept on writing. About Jared. About Lila. About loneliness. About home.

Moreover, he’d finished the damned song without Jack Daniels to keep him company! And that felt good.

“J.J.,” called the singer, coming toward Jason, then slapping him on the back. “We have a winner! When this song hits the air, every woman in the world is Lila. Or wants to be. Yes? No? You agree?”

Jason inhaled hard. Lila! For nine years, he’d carried her image with him. Hearing her name in conversation jarred him. He didn’t care about every woman in the world! He cared only about Lila and her reaction to the song. But he nodded and thanked Luis, and tried to focus on the man’s next words as he waved over the conductor and technicians.

“The chorus would be richer with harmony,” said Luis. With features set, he stared at Jason. “And your voice will blend very well, my friend. Let’s do it.”

Luis wanted him to sing? Sing to Lila? Jason turned around and walked a few steps before facing the singer again. “We’ve discussed this before, and the answer’s still no. You’re the voice. I’m the writer. If you want harmony, we can cut another track, and you can sing with yourself.”

But Luis was shaking his head, his dark eyes intense. “Ahh, mi amigo, trust me to know. Do what I say, and the music will be complete. And maybe you, too.”

Jason stood rigid, and Luis continued. “We’ll take a vote when we’re done if you don’t like the sound. In the true American way.” He looked at all the musicians in the studio and swept his arm toward them. “We have very qualified voters, no?”

Glaring at the vocalist, Jason knew he’d been out-maneuvered. Luis was the one with the real clout. It was his voice and style that sold records. Jason sighed, took his headset and walked into the recording booth. A little more pain wouldn’t kill him.