Harper sat beside Brielle in front of the makeup mirror, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate on whatever Brielle was saying. All she could seem to think about: this was the day the kidnapper was supposed to contact her. This was the day she was supposed to get Shane. She should have been home, with Shane’s father, waiting for the mail. Instead, here she was at her father’s home, feeling more alone and confused than ever, even though she was surrounded by other people. Everything was mixed up, and wrong, and—
“Earth to Harper. Are you even listening?”
Her gaze flashed to Brielle’s in the mirror. “I’m so sorry. What?”
Brielle gave her a playful shove. “Girl, you missed my best analysis about the advantages of selecting just the right shade of blush. My talents are truly going to waste here.”
She eyed her reflection in the mirror and shook her head. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter how much makeup you goad me into putting on. I’m still going to be ridiculously pale.”
“Yeah, well. Not everyone is blessed with my gorgeous brown skin.” Brielle winked. “And I didn’t goad you. I encouraged you. After all, if you want to catch a man like Bishop, you need the right kind of lure.”
“I’m not trying to catch him.”
Brielle grinned and gestured at Harper’s face. “Now there’s the right color of blush. Do that every time he smiles at you and you’ll have him wrapped around your...well, whatever you want him wrapped around. Know what I mean?”
Her eyes widened in shock.
Brielle laughed. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen how you two look at each other when neither of you think the other’s noticing. And I saw how dejected you were last night when you shut the bedroom door, with him on the wrong side of it. You’re pining after him, whether you realize it or not. The heart wants what the heart wants.”
Harper stood and washed her hands at the sink. “We’re not having this conversation.”
“Suit yourself. We can talk or not talk. Up to you. But breakfast is nonnegotiable. I’m starving. And until we catch the guy trying to hurt you, my existence in this guest room is our little secret. So I’m at your mercy. Go get me some food, Harper. Heavy on the carbs. The greasier, the better.”
On impulse, Harper gave her a hug.
Brielle’s eyes widened. “Not that I mind, but what was that for?”
“You’re putting your life on the line for me. All of the Seekers are. ‘Thank you’ seems pretty lame. But I really do appreciate your help. Maybe I can sneak a cot in here tonight to make you more comfortable.”
“It’s all good, Harper. Thank me with breakfast. Don’t dawdle.” She winked as if to soften her words.
“I’ll tell my stepmom I’m really tired and want to bring my food back to my room and rest some more after I eat. Give me ten minutes. Tops.”
“That’s my girl. Extra bacon. I can smell that bit of heaven from here.”
“You got it.” Harper smoothed her hands down her navy blue slacks then headed to the door.
Suddenly Brielle was in front of her, blocking the way. “Hold it. Bishop just sent me a 9-1-1 text. Give me a second.” Her fingers fairly flew across her phone as she exchanged messages with Gage. Finally, she shoved her phone in her jeans’ pocket and checked the small pistol hidden in her other one.
“What’s going on?” Harper asked.
“Unfortunately, it looks like breakfast is on hold. And me being here is no longer a secret. There’s a meeting about to happen downstairs in your father’s home office.”
When Harper and Brielle began to descend the stairs, Gage was waiting at the bottom, watching them. Dressed in a fresh charcoal-gray suit, he was so handsome, her heart hurt to look at him. But as she drew closer, her steps slowed. He seemed so tired, his face drawn, his brow creased with worry as he watched her. She stopped two steps above him, clutching the railing as she met his eyes on even ground for a change.
“What is it? Did the kidnapper cancel the exchange?” She pressed her hand to her throat. “Shane. Is he okay? What’s happened?”
Brielle stepped past her. “Is Mason in the office already?”
“He is. Just buy us a few minutes, all right?” He never took his gaze off Harper.
“Take as long as you need.” Brielle hurried into the office and closed the double door behind her.
Harper twisted her hands together. “Mason’s here? Why is your boss here, Gage?”
“Let’s go into the family room. We need to talk privately before meeting with everyone else.”
She glanced at the closed doors. “Everyone?”
“Your family, including your father. Dean, a few others.”
“My father? He’s here?”
“I contacted him late last night. He arrived a few minutes ago. Detective Radley’s here, too. Don’t be surprised if you see some uniformed officers through the windows. They’re out front and a few out back. Along with some Secret Service agents, of course.”
“Good grief. Why are all those people here? How are we supposed to make the exchange today and keep it quiet?”
“I’m about to lay everything out on the line, walk through what we’ve discovered. Get a few remaining answers I need to tie up the loose ends.”
She tightened her hand on the railing. “You know who tried to kill us?”
He nodded.
“And...and Shane? What about him?”
He held out his hand. She grabbed it instinctively, her knees nearly giving out as he led her down the last two steps and into the family room on the opposite side of the foyer from the office.
As soon as he closed the door behind them, she turned to face him, her fingers splayed across his chest. The sight of unshed tears shining in his eyes as he looked down at her told her far more than any words ever could. But she still had to hear it out loud.
“Say it,” she whispered, her voice tight and raspy.
“The plan to have me use your usual suite to draw out the killer worked, except it wasn’t the killer who came into your room. It was Faulk.”
“Faulk. But...if he’s not the one who hired those gunmen, why would he sneak into my room?”
“He had suspicions and wanted to warn you. He witnessed things here last summer that had him worried, but with no provable facts. That’s why he got reassigned. He asked to be reassigned, so he could find out what was going on.”
“And you believe him?”
“The parts I could verify, yes. I was finally able to get someone to validate the facts about the reassignment. Everything else he said seems to fit with other things we’ve discovered. It paints a solid picture of what was happening. There are just a few questions remaining. This meeting brings everyone together so we can try to get those answers. But one thing is clear.” He gently cupped her face in his hands. “I’m so sorry to have to say this, Harper. But the ransom demand was a hoax. There is no kidnapper.”
She grabbed his wrists, holding on to him like a lifeline. “But... Shane. The ashes in the urn, they weren’t real. Where—?”
“I don’t know where he is, what Colette did with his remains. But there’s no evidence that he’s alive, that anyone has kept him all these years. We have to accept the facts. Our son died the same day that he was born. I wish with all my heart that I was wrong, that I could tell you he’s alive. But I can’t.”
Harper squeezed her eyes shut. Her world tilted as he lifted her in his arms and carried her across the room. She buried her face against his chest and clasped her arms tightly around his neck as he held her, whispering sweet, reassuring words as he gently stroked her back. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream her grief and rage to the heavens. But the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, a strange calmness settled over her. The grief was there, deep inside, battering at her wounded heart. But she realized she couldn’t let it out, not yet. If she started crying, she might never stop.
She eased back in his arms to look at him. “I think that was my deepest fear this whole time, but I didn’t want to admit it.”
“That Shane was gone?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes. I wanted him back so desperately that I shied away from anything that didn’t fit with making that happen.”
Harper opened her eyes and stared up into his deep blue ones, looking at her with such concern. “l need to know everything you know. I need to know who did this, who hates me so much that they twisted the most precious thing I’ve ever had into a weapon to use against me.” She pushed out of his arms and straightened. “Let’s end this charade, right now. For Shane. For what could have been but never was. Let’s do this for our son.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he searched her gaze. “Are you sure? I can take care of the meeting, and tell you everything later. You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. Need to. Please.”
He pressed a whisper-soft kiss against her forehead. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
WITH BRIELLE STANDING guard just inside the office doors to prevent anyone from leaving, Bishop stood shoulder to shoulder with Detective Radley and Mason, their backs to the fireplace. Facing them from the U-shaped collection of couches and love seats were Earl, Julia, Cynthia and Dean.
Bishop glanced at Harper. He was so proud of her for being so strong, but he wished she didn’t have to be. She’d chosen to sit in a chair off to the side in spite of her father’s and stepmother’s attempts to get her to sit with them. She’d simply shaken her head, her back ramrod-straight as she’d kept her gaze focused on one person. Him, Bishop.
He gave her a nod of encouragement then addressed the others. “As you’re all aware, the Justice Seekers, in conjunction with Detective Radley, have been working together to find out who hired the gunmen who went after Harper.”
“And you,” she said, her voice quiet. “They tried to kill you, too.”
Cynthia piped up. “Why do you assume someone hired them? I thought they were some radical group out to hurt my father by hurting his family. The media said they were likely tied to the guy who tried to assassinate my dad.”
Her father reached past Julia to pat Cynthia’s hand. “Let Bishop explain why he brought us here for this meeting.”
She huffed an impatient breath and crossed her arms. Beside her, Dean looked positively bored.
“That may well prove to be true,” Bishop said. “The Secret Service is looking into that angle. The Seekers have been focusing more on the ransom demand.”
Cynthia exchanged a confused look with Dean. “Uh, ransom? Hello? What are you talking about?”
“A couple of weeks ago, Harper received a letter, along with some hair samples, demanding ransom for her son, Shane.”
At Cynthia’s shocked look, he quickly summarized the events surrounding Shane’s conception, the stint where Harper was in seclusion with the midwife, and the fact that Shane had died at birth. He pulled no punches, taking the blame for everything. And when Harper tried to interject a defense of him, he politely cut her off. No way would he let her blame herself for anything that had happened.
“Holy Hannah,” Cynthia exclaimed. “So that’s why you used to keep that urn everywhere you went. You told me it got dented and you got rid of it.”
“I had to explain it being gone somehow. But when the ransom demand came, we needed to have the ashes examined.”
Again, Bishop took over, bringing everyone up to date. “A lot of things have happened in the past few days to help us see a more clear picture of what’s truly going on. That’s why you’re all here. Radley, Mason and I have a few more questions we need answered, and we’re hoping you can help us.” He motioned to Mason to take up the explanation.
“The first lab ran tests on the hair sample sent with the ransom note, as well as a hair sample that Harper gave the night she came here to tell her stepmother and father about the ransom demand. The lab concluded a mother-son relationship. They also tested the ashes in the urn and discovered they were likely fireplace ash, not cremation ashes. Based on that, it was reasonable to believe the ransom demand was legitimate. Former president Manning has been working since that time to liquidate assets to be able to pay the ransom on the designated date.”
Julia smiled at her husband and rested her head on his shoulder. He took her hand in his and held it between them.
Cynthia looked at Harper. “Okay. So, apparently, I have a nephew I never knew about. And what? You guys are the ones in charge of paying the kidnapper?”
“That was the original intention,” Bishop confirmed. “Things changed once the gunmen entered the picture. There was no way to keep this off either law enforcement’s or the public’s radar. But we’ve been trying to keep it out of the media as much as possible to give us the best chance at not spooking the kidnapper.”
“You’re still going to pay the ransom and get Shane?” Cynthia asked.
“No.”
She exchanged a startled look with Dean.
Mason glanced at Harper and then explained. “I paid a private lab to conduct several tests on Harper’s behalf. We provided a DNA sample from Harper and Bishop, as well as the hair sample allegedly from Shane that wasn’t consumed in the first lab’s tests. And since we had a short list of those who might possibly have found out about the pregnancy, about Shane, I had several of my Justice Seekers follow the three of you around yesterday to collect drink containers you discarded.” He looked at each of them before continuing.
“The only person whose DNA we didn’t collect was former president Manning’s. But it turns out, we didn’t need it. The lab’s tests were rushed last night to provide preliminary results. We also had another lab analyzing the ransom note for DNA. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any in a detectible amount. The person who sealed the envelope and put the stamp on it used a wet paper towel or something like that rather than saliva. But we did retrieve metadata from the ransom note.”
Dean straightened in his chair. “What are you talking about? Metadata? In your earlier summary, you said it was printed, not emailed.”
Bishop’s jaw tightened. “Yes. It was. And the printer embedded data onto the page, providing the serial number and model number. We were able to trace the ransom note to the exact printer used to produce it. A printer in the library at Vanderbilt University.”
Cynthia stared at him in surprise.
Dean swore and crossed his arms. “You’re accusing me or Cynthia of printing it because we go to school there. You might as well accuse Mrs. Manning, too. She volunteers in the library.” He gave Bishop a smug look.
“Well I sure didn’t create a ransom note.” Cynthia slowly turned her head to look at her mother. “Mom?”
Julia’s eyes widened. “I had nothing to do with any ransom note.”
Harper was watching her family, her face now pale, a haunted look in her eyes. But still she said nothing.
Earl’s face was red but it wasn’t clear whether he was angry or upset on Harper’s behalf. “Mr. Ford, Bishop, Detective Radley, I hope you have something more than a piece of paper that supposedly came from a printer used by the community, not just students at the university, before accusing any of my family of being involved in this heinous crime against my daughter.”
“Yes, sir,” Bishop said. “We do. Quite a bit more, actually. But first, I need to ask Harper some questions. Harper, the night you came here with the ransom note and hair sample, can you walk me through the timeline? And who was with you, up until your hair sample and Shane’s were given to the courier to take to the lab?”
She shifted in her chair and clasped her hands tightly together, looking at the floor as she spoke. “I called Daddy as soon as I got the note. He was here to visit Cynthia because it was her first weekend home. She’d moved out of the dorm for the summer semester. I drove straight here—I think it was about five. I know it was before dinner, because we ate together later and Julia always serves dinner at six.”
Earl patted Julia’s hand. “Yes, she does. Shortly after five sounds right. We went into my office to look at the note together.”
Detective Radley pulled out his pocket notebook and pen. “Who is we?”
Earl’s brows raised. “The three of us—Harper, Julia, me.”
“Where was Cynthia? And Dean?”
Cynthia crossed her arms. “That’s right. Try to blame whatever’s going on, on the least favorite daughter and her boyfriend. Here we go.”
Her father gave her a warning look. “I love all my children equally.”
Cynthia rolled her eyes.
“Where were Cynthia and Dean?” Radley asked again.
Dean held his hands up as if in defense. “Don’t look at me. I wasn’t here. I still had a paper to finish that weekend. I was at my dorm.”
Cynthia frowned at him. “Nice.”
“What?” He blinked.
She shook her head. “I was upstairs, unpacking. I never heard anything about all this until today. I wasn’t with them in the office when Harper came over. I only saw her once we went to dinner.”
“That’s true,” her father said. “It was just the three of us in here, with the door closed. Julia got a plastic baggie from the kitchen and then used a pair of tweezers to pull out some of Harper’s hair to make sure the root tags came with it. I’d called a lab I’ve used before and they said for a DNA test using hair we needed roots.”
Radley jotted some notes. “And that same lab sent a courier to collect the samples?”
“Yes. He arrived about halfway through dinner. I’d put the samples in my desk drawer and came and got them, then gave them to the courier. That’s it. Why does any of this matter?”
“Was your office door locked?”
“Of course not. I never lock it. There’s no need. Again, why all these questions? What’s it matter?”
“When Cynthia came down for dinner, where were the three of you?” Radley asked.
Harper stared at Radley then slowly looked at her sister. “The three of us were together in the office, then went to the family room. From there we helped each other serve dinner in the dining room. That’s where we were when the courier came. We were together, the whole time.”
Cynthia glanced back and forth from Harper to the detective. “Why does that matter?”
“It matters,” Bishop said, “Because of all the DNA testing I mentioned earlier. Yes, the samples sent to your father’s lab had a mother-son relationship. But the mother in question is your mother, Julia. And the son...is Tyler.”
She blinked. “What? I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
Her father’s face had gone pale. He stared at Cynthia in horror. “I saw Julia take Harper’s hair samples. For the lab to say the hair wasn’t Harper’s can only mean one thing—someone switched the samples.”
“How could you do this to us, Cynthia?” Harper whispered brokenly. “You knew I would come to Daddy when I got the note. And you made sure you were here. You must have been watching from the gallery when we went into the study. When you saw Julia get the baggie and tweezers, you realized what she was doing. Or you listened outside the doors and heard us talk about it. You knew if they tested my hair against...” She briefly closed her eyes. “They would know it was a hoax if they tested my DNA and found no mother-son relationship. You did the only thing you could to salvage your plan. You got samples of Tyler’s and your mom’s hair from their hairbrushes and switched them.”
Cynthia frantically shook her head. “No way you tested Tyler’s DNA. I don’t believe you.”
“We didn’t have to,” Bishop said. “When the lab retested Shane’s hair sample and Harper’s blood, they confirmed a relationship. A sibling relationship. We knew that Shane’s hair was really from her brother—which means it wasn’t Shane’s. It was Tyler’s.
“There’s no way anyone else could have switched the samples for the first lab. It was you, Cynthia,” he charged. “By your own admission, by everyone’s admission, the only people in the house that night were you, your father, your mother and Harper. Even Tyler was out. We verified that with the nanny this morning over the phone. Julia took him there so he wouldn’t be here for the meeting with Harper. It’s you, Cynthia. You’re the one who set up the ransom hoax. And we believe Dean helped you.”
“Me?” Dean squeaked. “You’re crazy. It’s all her. I’m not involved in this.”
“You liar!” Cynthia yelled at him. “You’re the graphics major. I’m not the one who Photoshopped that birthmark onto a picture. It was your idea! You talked me into it.” She punched his shoulder.
“Why?” Harper’s grief-stricken voice cut through the noise. The room fell silent and everyone looked at her. “Why would you give me false hope that my son was alive? How could you be so cruel?”
Cynthia’s face turned red. “I wasn’t trying to be cruel, Harper. I love you. I would never hurt you—”
“Stop lying. Just answer my question. Why?”
Cynthia stiffened. “You don’t know what it’s like being the stepdaughter, the only child in the family not related to the great ‘President Earl Manning.’ His blood is in your veins, in Tyler’s, but not mine.” She pounded her chest in emphasis. “Nothing I do is ever good enough for him. And while he spends thousands of dollars buying rare books to sit on the stupid shelves in this office to impress total strangers, and donates hundreds of thousands of dollars to charities, he leaves the rest of us to scrap for every penny we have. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have to turn down your friends to go to the movies or a concert because you don’t have enough money to buy a stupid ticket? When your father is the former freaking president? Correction. Stepfather. No relation. And certainly never wanted.”
She glared at Earl, who’d gone white as a sheet.
“I didn’t want to hurt Harper,” she continued. “God knows she’s the only one around here who ever really cared about me.”
“Cynthia!” her mother exclaimed.
“Oh stop it, Mom. All you care about is your stupid antiques and that ridiculous garden out back. How many freaking plants does one person need?”
Her mother blinked, her chin wobbling.
“Spare me the crocodile tears, Mom.”
Cynthia turned back to face Harper, her own tears freely flowing now. “I’m not the stupid kid you thought I was when you told me that urn was a vase. I knew it was an urn. But I never understood why you hauled that thing around with you until I snooped in your room one day and found that baby book you keep.”
Harper sucked in a breath.
“I’m sorry, Harper. I truly am. But, I mean, Shane died the day he was born. It’s not like you had him for years and then he died. I didn’t think it would hurt you that much by pretending he was alive. All I wanted was to make Daddy suffer. And get enough money that I could disappear, have a fresh start, and never have to see the disappointment in your father’s eyes again whenever he looked at me.”
“I loved Shane,” Harper said. “I carried him for nine months, talking to him, singing to him, planning our future together. He was all I had of the only man I’ve ever loved. And it destroyed me when he died. How could you be so callous?”
Bishop stared at Harper, stunned. Her face had turned red and she refused to look at him, as if only just realizing what she’d admitted.
“What about the gunmen?” Radley asked. “Where do they fit in all this? Did you want to hurt your father by having his daughter murdered?”
“What? No. Of course not. We had nothing to do with that.”
“I’m sure the search history on both your laptops will back that up.”
“Whatever.” She gave him a mutinous glare and looked away.
Radley shrugged. “The truth will come out soon enough. The hospital lab is running tests on the gunman who supposedly had a heart attack. And did I mention we’re exhuming the midwife’s body? Collette Proust? We’re testing her to see if a poison could have caused her heart attack. My theory is that someone poisoned both of them to cause their heart attacks. We’ll be able to prove who that person is once all the hypodermic needles from the medical waste container in the gunman’s hospital room are tested and examined for any DNA.”
Cynthia shook her head. “You’re delusional. I was a teenager when Harper had Shane. I couldn’t have killed some midwife woman. Why would I?”
“Teenagers kill all the time. It’s a sad fact of our times.”
She rolled her eyes.
“What about your boyfriend, Dean?” Radley asked, switching gears. “Is he the one who printed the ransom note?”
While Cynthia and Dean fell all over themselves to rat each other out, Bishop gave Mason a questioning glance.
Mason nodded, understanding what he was asking—whether Mason would work with Radley to try to get the details ironed out, and try to get a confession regarding the gunmen. Bishop had something far more important to take care of. Or someone. Harper.
He crossed to her chair and crouched until she looked at him. “Harper, there are a few more loose ends to take care of. Would you mind coming with me?”
She frowned, looking confused. But she nodded, let him take her hand and pull her to standing. They crossed to the door and Brielle silently opened it and then locked it behind them.