27

To Max’s surprise, no one from the police department appeared at the Westerfield home the morning after the city hall shooting. No calls from the media, either.

Max lingered at Leigh’s home, expecting an onslaught from both at any time.

He left at eleven for a noon board meeting. “Call me if the police come,” he instructed Leigh. “For God’s sake, don’t say anything. Just tell them your attorney insisted that he be here.”

“Won’t that make me look guilty of something?”

“It’ll make you look smart, and don’t let them tell you anything different. I’ll be back at two.”

“You’re not going to let me slide out of it?”

“No.” He didn’t want Leigh to have second thoughts. He hoped that once the results were in, the violence would stop. There would be too much of a spotlight on the story.

Leigh was evidently thinking of that as well. “Won’t they need a sample from my mother as well? Otherwise, how can Kira Douglas claim to be my mother’s daughter? God, that sounds ridiculous.”

He liked the wryness in her voice. She would need a sense of humor in the days ahead. “A sample from Seth or, better yet, from Dr. Michael Crawford should do,” Max said. “If necessary, we might be required by a court to disinter Karen’s remains.”

“No!”

“You may not have a choice.”

“You keep saying that. It’s your job to give me choices.”

“I can’t perform miracles,” Max said.

“You were good at making husbands, and potential husbands, disappear.”

“Neither was good enough for you,” he said. “You always undervalued yourself.”

“You’re the only one who ever thought that. Grandfather didn’t.”

“Yes, he did. He loved you. He just wasn’t good at expressing it.”

“You were the son he wanted.”

“No, I was never that. To be honest, I wanted to be. But you were his granddaughter, and I was hired help.”

“But I may not be his granddaughter.”

That was the first time she admitted the possibility. He tried not to show any reaction. She had to reach the decisions on her own. “Doesn’t matter. He loved you.”

“I would really like to think that. It was lonely growing up here.”

“I know.”

She looked at him. “I always thought you were cold and unfeeling.”

“I am,” he said, straight-faced.

“You seemed to be on her side.”

“I’m sorry you felt that way. I did believe her, though. And I didn’t think you could evade the issue forever. You would drive yourself crazy wondering whether you were Katy Douglas’s child. And always regret not knowing until it was too late.”

“You want me to donate a kidney … if it’s true?”

“It’s not my decision and I’m not going to try to make it for you, sport.”

“You haven’t called me that since …”

“You went to college,” Max finished for her.

“Have you ever been really, really attracted to anyone?”

The question came from left field, and he didn’t know how to answer it. Of course he’d been attracted to women, but probably, as she said, not “really, really.” Not until this past week. There had been brief alliances, even affection, but nothing that tempted him into long-term plans. He’d thought he was missing something inside, that there was an emotional block that made him back away when anyone threatened to get too close.

She was waiting for an answer. “Yes,” he said simply. It wouldn’t have been true a week ago. He surprised himself by admitting it today.

“I had a terrible crush on you,” she admitted.

“I know.”

“You could have seduced me.”

“I knew that, too.”

“Why didn’t you? Because of Grandfather?”

“I liked you,” he said simply.

She smiled. “Thank you. I think you were the only one who did. I was a brat.”

“I was a lot worse,” he admitted.

“I can’t imagine that.”

“Anyway, I’m proud of you. I think your grandfather would be, too.”

“You say he may not be my grandfather.”

“He’ll always be your grandfather,” Max said. “But you might also have a mother. Think about that, Leigh. Katy Douglas is a good woman, a warm and loving one from everything I know. You might get what you’ve always wanted.”

“And what’s that?” she asked, a bit of the old defiance back.

“A living parent who loves you.”

“She doesn’t know me.” That she didn’t deny his statement spoke volumes.

“I think she would be delighted with you.”

Her face reflected doubt.

“Trust me,” he said.

“I’m not good at that.”

“I know. I’m not, either, sport,” he said. “Maybe it’s not too late for either of us.”

Kira walked into her mother’s hospital room. Her chest hurt like the furies of hell. She tried not to show it. This visit was necessary, though. Her mother would have heard of the attacks. The news would be everywhere this morning.

The television was on. Kira’s face was plastered on it.

Her mother uttered a cry when she saw Kira. “Thank God.”

“I’m sorry,” Kira said. “I asked the nurses to keep the television off until I got here. I’m fine. Please don’t worry.”

Her mother frowned. “It’s a mom’s job to worry.” Her eyes were fueled with worry as she did an inch-by-inch visual inspection of Kira.

Kira winced as she sat down. Her wound burned and her rib felt as if someone were pounding on it. “I know.”

“Was that a random shooting or did it have something to do … with me?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been worried, and it’s not just about my kidney.” Her mother sighed. “Although I’m … ill, I still have powers of observation.” She paused, then added, “Don’t hold anything back from me, baby.”

Kira knew she would feel the same way. She would have hated it if her mother tried to protect her from something she had every right to know.

“How much has been on television?” she asked.

“Only that a shooter fired on a crowd leaving city hall. Three people injured, one killed. You were one of the three.”

“No leads?”

“They say not.”

“I think it does have something to do with you,” she said, “and whatever happened in that delivery room thirty-two years ago.”

“I still have a hard time believing that you are not my biological daughter,” her mother said. “I loved you so much from the first moment I saw you in the nursery. You were so small, and there were all these tubes …”

“Were you awake when I was born?”

“No. Dr. Crawford thought there was something wrong, that the baby was in the wrong position. He gave me something … I was in a haze … Then the doctor told me my baby was sick, and I couldn’t hold her. I kept asking for you …”

“Dr. Crawford?”

“He was the nicest doctor … so helpful over the next few weeks. He didn’t have to be. It wasn’t his fault you were sick, but he kept stopping in the nursery, and he found me a pediatric surgeon who would operate.”

Bells were ringing in her head. Why hadn’t she asked her mother these questions earlier? Dr. Crawford. Dr. Crawford was a cousin of Karen’s. He’d probably been her obstetrician as well.

No wonder that her mother’s medical records had been lost. She and Chris should have asked those questions first.

Dr. Crawford. Dr. Michael Crawford. He had to be the key to the whole puzzle. The caring Dr. Crawford who’d found a surgeon who would work for free. Or had he?

What would be the statute of limitations on deliberate baby switching? Certainly, his reputation would be destroyed, and maybe even his son’s would be tainted. Enough to commit murder?

Her mother was watching her face. “You suddenly thought of something.” It was more question than statement.

“I was just wondering if Dr. Crawford was responsible for the switch.”

“No,” her mother said. “He wouldn’t.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “It must have been a mistake.”

“No, Mom, I don’t think so. Apparently, I was so sick they rushed me to intensive care. They would have known the moment I left your—Karen Howard’s—body that I … was a blue baby. That something was very wrong.”

“But why …”

“Dr. Crawford was the cousin of Karen Howard, the mother of Leigh Howard, the woman I think—no, I know—is your daughter. Maybe she didn’t want a sick baby. Didn’t you say that everyone thought I would die?”

“But he’s a doctor.”

“He’s also a member of that family.”

Her mother’s breathing was more labored. “What about the … DNA test?”

“She’s agreed to do it today.”

“It has … to be very hard on her.”

“Yes,” Kira said simply.

“How long will … it take to get results?”

“A couple of days.”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

Kira had been waiting for that. She’d had copies made of the photos Dan took at the Westerfield house. She took them from her purse and handed them to her mother. It was a strange feeling, almost like handing the right to be Katy Douglas’s daughter to someone else. She felt a sudden ache very different from physical pain.

Her mother stared at them, and Kira knew she was looking for features similar to her own, and maybe even to her husband. Kira had done the same thing with the painting of Karen Howard in the Westerfield home.

“She’s very pretty,” Kira finally said.

“Yes, but so are you.” Her mother knew exactly what she was thinking, just as she always did. She held out an arm discolored from needles. One line was attached to it.

Kira took her hand. It seemed almost transparent. Yet there was still strength there, and that strength clung to Kira.

“You’ll always be my daughter,” Katy Douglas said. “Always the best thing in my life.”

Kira leaned toward her, and an explosion of fresh pain surged through her.

“Go home, baby,” her mother said, then, “Will you be safe there?”

“Chris is providing me with my own policemen. He brought me here, and one of them will take me home.”

“Stay there. Take the prescriptions.”

Just like her mother. Sick with a terminal condition unless a kidney was found and here she was, worrying about Kira’s minor wound. “You said I would always be your daughter. You know you will always, always be my mother. And I am going to get you a kidney.”

Her mother fixed a stare on her. “You haven’t asked her to donate a kidney?”

She squirmed under that stare.

“Kira?”

“Kinda,” she admitted.

“I know what ‘kinda’ means. Hog-tying her and dragging her kicking and screaming to the hospital.”

“No. I just … gave her a little tug. No more. I swear.” Blackmail qualified as a tug.

“I won’t do it, Kira. If anything happened to her remaining kidney, I couldn’t live with myself.”

Kira clasped her hand. “It’s so little risk, Mom. It really is. You’re just fifty. You deserve to live long and well.”

“I didn’t want to take one of your kidneys, and I certainly don’t want to introduce myself to Leigh Howard by asking for one of hers,” her mother said with the glint in her eyes that said she wouldn’t change her mind. “Drop it, Kira. I won’t give my consent for a transplant under those circumstances. I won’t do it, so go back to her and tell her it’s all been a terrible mistake. Let her go on with her own life.”

Kira looked at her for a long moment. “I can’t do that. It’s gone too far. I can’t undo what’s been done. And both she and I are old enough to make our own decisions.”

Her mother’s expression softened. “Go home, baby,” she said again. “For me. Get some rest so I can get some.”

Katy Douglas had not ceded. Not yet. She’d merely changed the subject.

But Kira knew they both needed rest. And she badly needed another one of those little white pills. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She ducked out the door before her mother could protest and ran into a burly man in his sixties.

“Ms. Douglas? Kira Douglas?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Bob Harold. A friend of Chris’s. I’m here to take you home.”

Her own personal bodyguard.

“What about my mother? I don’t think she should be alone.”

“Chris has already talked to security. They’re to keep an eye on her. No visitors other than you. No information will be given out about her room number.”

Was she being paranoid? Probably. Her mother had not been targeted.

“I would rather you stayed here,” she said. “I can take a cab home.”

He smiled. “Chris would flay me alive if I let you do that. Look, let me make a few calls.” He moved out of her hearing and spoke into a cell phone. In minutes he came back. “Someone will be over here in an hour. Good enough?”

She thought of what Max had said yesterday, that he had hired bodyguards. It hadn’t helped her last night.

“I’m parked a fair distance away,” the retired policeman said. “I’ll get the car and meet you at the entrance.”

Kira nodded. “I’m going to say good-bye.”

He took the elevator down, and she peeked into her mother’s room. Katy was already asleep. The visit had worn her out.

She hurried down the hall and caught the elevator. As she exited on the first floor, she glanced at the people crowding into an elevator across from her. One man caught her attention, and she wasn’t sure why. He wore a florist’s jacket and carried flowers. Her reporter’s mind sized him up. Overweight. Mussed brown hair. Thick glasses. He glanced at her, then turned and moved into the elevator.

An ordinary visitor.

She started for the front door, but something nagged at her. The way he’d turned. Lighter than his bulk would indicate. She retraced her steps, waited impatiently for an elevator. Both were stopped at upper floors.

Maybe the stairs. But with her aching chest, she might never make it. One of the elevators started down. Fourth floor. Stopped. She took out her cell and punched the button for her mother’s nurse’s station. It rang. And rang. The elevator started back down again. Third. Stopped at second.

She wanted to scream at it.

A nurse on her mother’s unit finally answered. “My mother’s room,” Kira said in quick gasps. “Check my mom’s room. Now. Someone …” The elevator stopped and she impatiently waited for a crowd to leave. “Dammit,” she yelled into the phone. “Someone might try to kill her.”

Everyone stared at her as she stepped into the elevator and the signal died. Others followed. “Please,” she said to the other passengers. “My mom might be in danger. Please don’t press a button for another floor.”

Two stepped out. Three others nodded their heads, standing away from her as they might from a deranged person.

The elevator stopped at the second floor anyway, and she had to wait for someone to get in. They started to punch the button for three when she said, “No,” and pushed the hand away.

The elevator reached her mother’s floor. She stepped out and ran to her mother’s room. The door was open, and a nurse leaned over her mother. The IV had been pulled from her arm.

She looked down. Bloodred flowers spilled across the floor.