30

Kira watched as the technician carefully packaged the DNA sample and left. Chris took another. It would go to a different lab.

Max turned to her. “I’ll take you home.”

“I came with Chris,” she said. “And I’m going back to the hospital. I want to make sure Mom’s okay.” She tried to ignore the pain as she moved. It had worsened, but she didn’t know whether it would be any better at home.

She glanced at Leigh. She wanted to drag her to the hospital for blood tests. She wanted to get on her knees and beg Leigh to help their mother. And that’s what Katy Douglas was: mother of both of them.

She didn’t want to understand what Max had been trying to tell her. That Leigh wouldn’t—couldn’t—believe it until she saw the test results in black and white, and maybe not even then. Kira hadn’t believed it at first, either. It had been her mother’s urgent condition that had made her accept the truth more rapidly.

She didn’t want to be understanding, and she deeply resented Max for making her feel she should be. Understanding could come later. Not now. Not when every moment counted.

Chris, who was standing nearby, looked from Kira to Leigh and back again. “I have another stop on the way home,” he said. “You might want to go with him.”

Traitor. Throwing her to the wolf.

She had been thinking just moments ago that Max was one of those with a very big stake in whether she lived or died. Maybe that was why he was showing so much interest in her. Maybe Ted Bundy showed the same tenderness and thoughtfulness before he killed his victims.

Yet deep down she didn’t believe it. Neither did Chris, or he never would have suggested she go with Max. Chris must have his reasons for suggesting it.

Or was it Leigh?

The thought was ungracious to the extreme. Chris had been a true friend. A lifesaver in so many ways. He’d practically given up his life for her mother. He certainly had the right to be attracted to Leigh, just as she was—unfortunately—attracted to Max.

She feared they both were going to pay dearly for those attractions.

She shrugged. “Maybe you can meet me there later,” she suggested to Chris. A warning. For both Max and herself.

“I’ll do that.” Chris looked at his watch. “Say in two hours.”

Kira saw Chris glance at Leigh. A long, measuring glance that lingered a second too long. Well, Leigh was pretty, even beautiful. Kira had a second of apprehension, then dismissed it. Chris was about as straight an arrow as ever lived.

Instead she forced herself to address Leigh. “Thank you,” she said, trying to make amends for her earlier truculence. After all, the woman did finally agree to the DNA test, if not the blood tests.

One step at a time, she told herself.

Max led the way to the door and opened it. He followed her out and opened the door of his car. She barely suppressed a groan as she stepped inside. That darn rib!

“You shouldn’t have come,” Max said, then muttered something she couldn’t hear. It was probably just as well.

He said nothing else as they drove to the gate. The guards opened it as Max approached. The drive beyond the gate was lined with cars, trucks, and portable satellite vans from various television stations. Max drove a few yards and got out of the car.

“Is that Kira Douglas?” yelled one.

“Ms. Douglas, how do you feel about being a heiress?” said another reporter who tried to approach the car.

“Are you going to sue the hospital?” yelled another.

Max stepped in front of them. “We’ll have a statement later this evening,” he said.

“Who’re you?” yelled a reporter.

“Maxwell Payton. I’m the attorney for Westerfield Industries.”

“Why are you with Ms. Douglas? Are you representing her as well?”

“What about the kidney?” a television reporter yelled out. “We heard …”

“Who’s trying to kill you?” That from another reporter in the back of the pack. The question was obviously meant for Kira. She shook her head.

“Come on, Kira,” said another. “You know we have deadlines.”

Max fought to get back into the car. He started slowly, even as questions continued to fly at both of them.

“Where and when will the statement be issued?” came one last question.

“Seven. At my office.” He gave an address. “Until then, there will be no comment from Kira or from any of the Westerfields, so you might as well leave.”

He put his foot on the gas pedal and made his way through the gauntlet.

“They won’t give up,” Kira said.

“I know,” he said.

“Who’s going to write the statement?”

“You and I. But Leigh will have a say.”

The reporters suddenly made her remember her cell phone. She had turned it off while the technician took the DNA sample. She hadn’t wanted anything, anything at all, to delay the test. She turned it on and saw she had three messages. All from the newspaper.

Damn. For the first time in her life she forgot about a story. Not forgot, exactly, but just pushed more important things in front of it. The attack on her mother. The DNA test.

Wade would be livid.

She punched the button for the city desk.

“Carlton!” the rough voice barked out.

“Wade, this is Kira. I’m sorry. I should have gotten in touch with you sooner, but someone tried to kill my mother at the hospital and …”

“Good God,” came the expletive. “Look, we’re on deadline. Our police reporter is covering the city hall stuff. Can you just dictate something quickly? All the television stations are going nuts with this baby-switch thing. Apparently someone got a tip from the police department.”

For the first time in her life, she didn’t get a rush in writing a story. “I’m too close to it …”

“Look, Robin Stuart is here. She’s the best we have. Can you give her some details, then write something for the morning paper tomorrow?” Before she could reply, he’d transferred the call.

Kira was careful in what she said. She passed over how she got the first DNA sample and simply said that Leigh Howard was one of several possibilities and that she’d been kind enough to give a DNA sample. Nothing was positive yet. She gave a time line of the attacks on her and suggested the attacks could be related to several stories in the past. She downplayed any connection.

When she finished, Robin read back what she had.

“Atlanta Observer reporter Kira Douglas, one of several victims shot outside city hall Thursday night, might have been the victim of an accidental baby switch at Eastside Hospital thirty-two years ago. Police are investigating whether the two events are connected …”

Fifteen minutes later, Kira finished, satisfied that she’d done as much as she could to report the important facts without pointing an accusation against the Westerfields. She wanted to do nothing that would slow the reluctant cooperation she now had.

Max had listened to her side of the conversation. “Thanks for toning down the Westerfield connection.”

“Don’t thank me. Until the DNA is official, it would be irresponsible to make any claims or charges. There’re other stories, though. The police department report was leaked, and it mentioned the possible connection.”

“But your story might defuse it for right now. It might give us a few days, time for Leigh to accept whatever comes.”

“Is that possible? Leigh still doesn’t want to admit the truth.”

He took his gaze from the road and turned to her. “How long did it take you to accept the impossible?” he said.

“A day. Two.”

“Longer than that. You said you had to wait several days for the third test to come in. Didn’t you, in all that time, want to believe it wasn’t true?”

He’d said something similar before. She wanted to debate him. This was a life. Her mother’s life.

“Do you love her?” she asked. She hadn’t meant to blurt out the question, but out it came. She hoped it was only her roiling emotions and lack of sleep rather than jealousy, but she suspected the truth was all three.

He glanced over at her, his green eyes meeting hers.

“Yes,” he said, sounding as if the answer surprised even him. He sounded tired and frustrated. “I probably never admitted it before, even to myself. I’ve avoided that word like the plague. But, yeah, I do care for her. Maybe even more than I thought.”

Her heart plunged.

A muscle tightened in his cheek. “Like Leigh, I grew up without much support. Certainly damned little love. It’s something I shared with her. I didn’t believe in it and avoided any kind of emotional entanglements. Leigh did the opposite. She ran to any man that promised love.”

He stopped. Kira couldn’t take her eyes from him. Each word seemed forced from his throat, and that surprised her. He’d always seemed so at ease with himself.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “You asked whether I love her,” he said. “You know about the accident she had. I used to drive her to school. She always wore long-sleeved shirts to cover the scars on her arms. She still does. You haven’t seen them because she still hides them. I took her to ballet lessons and she always wore tights on the way. Her legs are scarred as well. Not bad. Not as much as she thinks, but the memories of that night make them worse in her mind. We have a pool, but the only time I’ve seen her swimming is at night.”

Kira listened intently as he swerved in and out of traffic. “She accepts me because I never pitied her,” he continued. “Never catered to her. I make her angry, but there’s a certain respect between us. She knows I won’t take advantage of her, that I’ll tell her exactly what I think where she’s concerned. If she’s being a damned fool, I tell her that.”

He stopped for a red light. He turned to her. “Ed Westerfield treated her like a piece of property. He was determined she would not marry ‘trash’ like her mother did, which, of course, drove her to do exactly that. If he cared, he never knew how to express it. In any event, he never gave her the unconditional love she’s always yearned for. So I’ve watched her struggle through a horrific marriage and a gold-digging fiancé. She’s just now beginning to find herself, and you throw this at her.”

The light changed and he looked back at the road. “So, yes, I am protective. And I guess I love her as I would a kid sister.” A muscle jerked in his jaw, and Kira knew exactly how much he cared and how torn he was.

This was a different Max. He’d finally let his guard down, and she feared he would regret it. But for now her heart filled with a bittersweet knowledge of what he was trying to say to her. He not only owed his duty to Leigh, but a piece of his heart. Perhaps even a larger piece than he thought.

She was a fool to fret over it. She had far larger worries than someone who had always been out of reach, even if she was interested in a relationship. Which she wasn’t.

“I don’t want you to think, even for an instant, that Leigh could have anything to do with what’s happened these past few days. The truth is she wouldn’t hurt a flea. Herself, yes. A flea, no.”

“Then who?”

“I’ve gone over it a dozen times,” he said. “I keep wondering who would benefit if something happened to you. Especially if Leigh was blamed.”

She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she asked, “What would happen?”

“I suspect that other members of the family would step in as potential heirs and contest the trust. None of them is overly fond of me.”

“Would they win?”

“I don’t think so. Since I was an interested party, I found the best law firm in Georgia to draw the trust. Ed told them exactly what he wanted. But you never know how a judge is going to rule.” He paused, then continued, “This kind of trust is rare in that the beneficiary has little or no control. It’s to protect her. If Leigh doesn’t conform to the terms of the will, the money goes to charity. I would administer that process and could make some very fat fees. So I imagine I would be considered someone who would benefit. There would be few checks on what I could and couldn’t do.”

“Who are the relatives who could contest?” She knew from Chris’s research, but she wanted to hear it from him.

“Leigh’s cousins, Seth and David, and David’s father, Dr. Crawford. That’s all. The Westerfields aren’t very prolific.”

“There’s no one else who would have a claim or benefit?”

He was thoughtful. Silent. Then he shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of.”

Before she could ask more questions, they arrived at the hospital.

“You don’t have to come in with me,” she said as they turned into the hospital driveway.

“Lady, I’m not letting you out of my sight until Burke gets here.” The way he said “lady” sent a warm tingle through her.

She was silent as he parked. She didn’t wait for him to come around to her side. Despite the pounding on her ribs, she was out of the car and walking toward the entrance before he caught up with her.

They didn’t talk on their way to the elevator, but she was only too aware of his body language, especially when he rested an arm on her shoulder. Claiming her.

The tingle grew into a rush of warmth.

Not good, Douglas. He’d just said he avoided emotional entanglements like the plague. He’d told her that he was more than a little on Leigh’s side.

But no matter how much she warned herself, her body didn’t behave. It reacted to him all on its own.

They reached her mother’s floor. She stopped at the nurse’s station. “How is she?”

The nurse on duty knew her well. “Holding her own. We’re all praying for another kidney.” She paused. “I heard what happened. There’s a guy outside your mother’s room. He’s been vetted by our security here, and we’re keeping a special eye on her.”

Kira smiled her gratitude and went on to the room. She didn’t recognize the man sitting in a chair outside the room. He stood as they approached.

“I’m Kira Douglas, Mrs. Douglas’s daughter.”

“I recognize you, Ms. Douglas. Go in.”

“How do you recognize me?”

“Chris sent pictures along. I have one of Mr. Payton as well.”

“Anyone else been here?”

“Only staff. I’ve checked all their credentials. The doctor wasn’t happy, but …”

She didn’t wait for him to finish. She opened the door and went inside.

Her mother was on oxygen. And asleep. She retreated back to the nurse’s station. “She’s on oxygen?”

“On and off. It relieves the strain on her heart. You can take it off while you’re here.”

She returned to the room. Max had waited outside, but now he followed her inside. She wanted the company. It took the edge off the despair. The continuing anger at Leigh’s inertia.

Her mother’s eyes opened as if she sensed her presence. The smile was dimming, but it was there. “Kira. I’m … so glad to see you. I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m better,” she said. Anything more optimistic would warn her mother. “I did ask Carly to take over the books at the Clean Sweep.” Carly had worked for the Clean Sweep for two years and had offered to step in yesterday. “It’s taken a big load off.” She paused, then added, “People are asking about you.”

“They know?” She looked distressed.

“Yes. Remember what I told you yesterday. The story is in the newspapers now. A lot of people know—and care—about you.”

And someone wanted her dead.

Her mother’s gaze left her face and went to Max, who stood in the doorway. Her eyes filled with curiosity.

“This is Max Payton,” Kira said. “He’s the attorney for your … for Leigh Howard.”

“I would like to see her.” Katy Douglas’s voice trembled slightly.

Max stepped closer. “You will,” he said softly.

“When?”

“Soon, I expect.”

She held out her hand to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Douglas.”

“Katy. Everyone calls … me Katy.”

“Katy then,” he said easily.

Her mother looked at him with speculation in her eyes. Sick as she was, Katy Douglas was an unrepentant matchmaker for her daughter, and now she had a glimmer of that old fire in her eyes.

Before she had an opportunity to question him further, he crossed the room in what seemed like three steps. “I’ll wait outside while you visit.” And then he was gone, the door closing softly after him.

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Wow,” she said. “He’s certainly … something.”

He was that. The problem was that Kira didn’t know what kind of “something” he was.

“He seems nice,” her mother probed. “Is he married?”

“No, Mom, he isn’t.” Kira suspected that no matter how sick mothers were, they remained moms. And they had special antennas.

“I want someone … for you.”

She didn’t add that she wanted someone for Kira before she died. She didn’t have to. The words were in her face.

It broke Kira’s heart.

She must have looked stricken. Her mother stretched her hand out and took one of hers. “I was so lucky to have you.”

“I think you will like Leigh, too.”

“I know I will. But you’ll always be my baby.”

“The two of us together. Always.” Kira repeated her mother’s mantra. Whenever they were low on money, or weren’t quite sure where they would live next, Katy Douglas saw it as a challenge, and one that bonded them even closer.

She was rewarded with that smile again. And then her mother’s eyes closed.

After Max and Kira Douglas left the Westerfield home, Chris turned to Leigh. “I think someone is trying to frame you,” he said.

She looked up at him. “Why?”

“The gun missing from the cabinet, the attacks timed when you don’t have an alibi. Someone probably knows you took firearms training. You have a motive. You had opportunity.”

“I couldn’t hit a blow-up alligator in a kid’s swimming pool,” she said.

“Whoever is behind this doesn’t know that. Nor can you prove it.”

“The instructor can.”

“You could have gone somewhere else.”

“I didn’t … I wouldn’t …”

“I know,” he said. “But the police will be back unless they find the city hall shooter.”

She looked at him with those damn big eyes. God, she was pretty. “I don’t know who …” she started.

“I can count five on my fingers now,” he said.

“No. Not Max. Not Seth. Not David or Michael.”

“I said five.” He watched as her lips frowned in thought. “The president and CEO of Westerfield Industries. I understand he and Payton have had some differences of opinion, and Payton has control of fifty-one percent of the stock. He holds it only as long as the trust lasts. If Kira dies and you’re charged with murder, then the trust ends. The shares will go to charity or, if the will is contested, be divided among any heirs. Control will be diluted.”

“You really think Jack Melton could be responsible? I’ve known him for years.”

“I don’t know. I’m just looking at possibilities. Who else might have felt entitled to more than what they received?”

“No one,” she said.

He looked around the room. He hadn’t seen the housekeeper today. “Where’s Mrs. Baker?”

“She went home at noon. She wasn’t feeling well.” Then she stared at him with wide-open eyes. “You don’t think …?”

“Would she have had access to the gun closet?”

“No. It was always locked.”

Chris paused. “I saw the will in the probate office. Mrs. Baker received a good chunk of money. Maybe she wanted more.”

“Mrs. Baker?” she said with surprise. “She was ecstatic that she received what she did. One thing about Grandfather: He always paid his employees well and in return he demanded total loyalty. Mrs. Baker always gave it to him, and to me. We’re her family. I think she probably expected a small sum when Grandfather died but she was delighted at how much. She always wanted a house of her own and with what she’d saved she was able to buy a nice cottage with all cash.”

“How long has she been with the family?”

“Nearly forty years. I understand she left for a year or so when she got married. Her husband died in the military, and she returned.”

“No family then?”

“Only Rick.”

“Rick?”

“You met him. He’s the groom and handyman for us. He also works at several other horse farms. He’s Mrs. Baker’s nephew.”

“How long has he been here?”

“Eighteen months. I wasn’t too sure about him for a while. Silver Lady didn’t take to him, but he seems conscientious enough. He’s dependable.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Ex-military. Couldn’t find a job after getting out, and Mrs. Baker said he had experience with animals, that as a teenager he once worked for a horse farm.”

“Does he live with Mrs. Baker?”

“No, he has a place of his own. A small apartment not far from here.”

Chris made a mental note to run a check on the nephew. “What’s his last name?” he asked.

“Rick. Rick Salter. You don’t think …?”

“I don’t think anything,” he said. “Besides, I’m sure the police are checking out everyone on the estate.” He paused, then asked, “Your grandfather never remarried after his wife died?”

“No. He was a workaholic, not very social unless it was business oriented. Mrs. Baker did everything for him.”

“I should go,” he said, seeing the fatigue in her eyes. She probably hadn’t slept much in the past few days.

Her eyes met his. “Do you have to? Can you stay a few moments? I really don’t want to be alone.”

And she shouldn’t be alone. He’d been thinking of Kira and Katy. But no one seemed to have thought of Leigh, who’d had to deal with this mess on her own.

She’d showed courage. She’d agreed—albeit reluctantly—to the DNA test. He would have been reluctant as well, considering the evidence given her. She wasn’t only being asked to give up a kidney for a stranger, but to deny everything she believed she was.

She opened the door without waiting for his help and went outside. It was as if she couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

The sun was still hot, but a breeze wafted through the thick canopy of trees that dotted the pasture. The entire estate was surrounded by a picturesque white fence, but the pasture was fenced inside that area.

The donkey was grazing but looked up as they approached and sauntered toward them. Leigh took something from a pocket in her slacks and gave it to him.

“You try it,” she said.

He reached out and gave the donkey the cube of sugar. It quickly disappeared, and the donkey nuzzled him for more.

“Later, greedy one,” she said.

He was enchanted. He’d thought her lovely before but now there was pink in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. “Come,” she said, grabbing his hand and drawing him inside the stable.

She took out more cubes of sugar and held one out to the white mare.

“Do you always carry those?” he asked.

“Sugar or carrots or slices of apple. Apple is really better, but it’s not as easy to tuck in a pocket.”

The mare nudged her for more, and she laughed. “It’s the sugar more than me,” she said.

Then she led the way to another stall. “Pretty girl,” she crooned as the mare moved restlessly. “She’s new. Not quite sure she’s home yet.” She reached out and ran her hand lightly down the horse’s neck. “I haven’t ridden her yet, but tomorrow …” She stopped. “Maybe I won’t have them much longer,” she said, biting her lip. “If the DNA …”

Chris took the photo of Katy Douglas from his pocket and held it out to her.

Leigh resisted for a moment, then took it.

The photo had been taken five years earlier, according to Kira. Katy was laughing at something, her face alight with pure joy. Her taffy-colored hair was neatly cut for easy care with a wisp of bangs nearly reaching her eyes.

“She looks … nice.”

“She is nice. One of the nicest, warmest women I’ve ever met. When my wife was so ill, she stopped in every afternoon with something to tempt Risa’s appetite.”

He watched as Leigh studied the photo. He wondered if she saw the similarities. The sea-colored eyes and high cheekbones and small ears. The wide lips.

Leigh touched a finger to the face in the photo. Chris watched as the finger seemed to trace the face. Then she looked up, and Chris saw the stark longing in her face.

“My father hated my mother,” she said suddenly, softly. “He said so the night he … died. He purposely ran the car into an abutment. He wanted to kill all of us. He believed my mother cheated on him. He’d had a blood test, he said, and I wasn’t his. He demanded to know who the father was. I didn’t remember those words until I went under hypnosis with a psychiatrist, but they were there, deep inside.”

Horror filled her face as she suddenly realized the implications of what she’d just said. “They died … because someone made a mistake?”