A Memory Worth Dying For (30 page)

“I also have concrete proof, Gerald, that the DNA on the open liquor bottles and the fingerprints did not belong to Martha Rushing but to Vinny Welsh.”

Gerald shook his head. “But, the hospital said her clothes smelled like liquor, and that she had liquor on her breath.”

“Yes, but the blood results showed no concentration of alcohol in her system. Since the bridge was out that night because of the storm, and the rescue personnel spent so much time trying to save your daughter’s life, the proper tests to check the alcohol levels in Martha’s system were overlooked. That’s why the judge only gave Martha probation. Tests were inconclusive to prove she had been drinking at all. Now, since we believe the evidence at the scene was manipulated, we have questions about the verdict. The judge has instructed me to compile the evidence for all the things I’ve just told you, and it’s possible they will clear Martha’s name. Unfortunately, Mrs. Duke is no longer with us to question, so the job will be a little harder. But, I assure you, sir, I will be able to prove, undeniably, that Martha Rushing was not driving at the time of the accident, neither had she been drinking. Therefore, we’re almost certain to get Martha acquitted and completely exonerated of any fault.”

Gerald’s heart raced in his chest. Of all the things he had accused Marti of, most of them had just been refuted, and because the other accusations had also come from Mary Duke, those were in question now. His heart quaked when he thought of the awful things he’d called Marti when he ordered her from his house. He moaned and turned to Amber.

“Please, Amber, will you keep me informed, and let me know as soon as the judge makes a positive determination?”

“Of course.”

Brent Simmons cleared his throat and nodded at Gerald. “Now, Gerald, I have news that will probably make your blood boil, but I think you should be aware of it. I’ll have to ask you to keep it quiet for now—until we can prove what we suspect.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Do you remember the nurse who died in Marti’s car?”

“Clara Watting?”

Brent nodded. “Yes. After she died, one of her friends came to see us. She received a letter in the mail that Clara obviously mailed the day before she died. It contained a yellow envelope with instructions to be opened in the event of her death. When Clara died, the friend opened the envelope and found some pretty strong accusations about Mary Duke and an elaborate cover-up of a crime that would interest you.”

Gerald waited. Dread made his heart beat faster in his chest.

Brent sat down on a hay bale beside Gerald, pulled an envelope out of his pocket, and handed Gerald three pieces of paper. Gerald took the cream-colored papers and pulled reading glasses out of his pocket. After slipping them on, he held the papers in front of him and glanced at the first one. It appeared to be a birth certificate. The mother’s name was Tommi Robbins. The father’s name was blank, but at the top of the paper, he noticed the date—the same date as the accident that claimed his daughter’s life.

He slid that paper behind the others and glanced at the second paper. It too was a birth certificate, but what caught his eye was Marti’s name. Her name was typed on the line that said “mother” and Daniel’s name was typed in as the father. The date was the same.

When Gerald looked at the third piece of paper, his hands shook. It was an official fetal death certificate used by the clinic for deceased infants. The date was the same as the other two, but the mother’s name was not Marti’s as he expected—instead the name
Tommi Robbins
was typed on the line.

Deep furrows appeared between Gerald’s eyes. He looked at Brent. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”

A glance passed between Brent Simmons and Amber Pike.

“It means that Marti’s baby was born alive instead of stillborn like Mary told the hospital when she arrived with the baby after the accident. Mary filled out a birth certificate at the clinic, which could only mean one thing. In Texas, a birth certificate is not filled out
unless the baby is born alive
, and a nurse or midwife who knowingly falsifies a birth certificate will be charged with a third degree felony. Mary could have lost her medical license if she hadn’t filled them out properly, so she completed the form but hid the death certificate somewhere at the clinic.”

The confusion on Gerald’s face left wrinkles above his eyes. “I don’t understand. Are you saying Marti’s baby was born alive and then died before they reached the hospital?”

Brent shifted on the hay. “Gerald, I’m saying there’s something strange about the whole situation. Mary and Shane supposedly
adopted
Tommi Robbins’ baby. The birth certificate filed with the adoption papers—the one Mary recorded—was identical to the one you have there, but there was no record of the fetal death certificate in any of the clinic’s papers. The accident that killed your daughter happened right outside the clinic. We suspect Mary hid the original death certificate for Tommi’s baby somewhere in her office at the clinic, and Nurse Watting must have found it. She then mailed this copy to her friend the day before she died. Tommi Robbins’ baby was born alive, but according to this record here, died shortly after birth.”

Gerald shook his head. “I don’t understand. What does that prove?”

Brent stood and ran his fingers through his hair. “Gerald. The death certificate is for
Tommi’s
baby—not Marti’s. And Tommi’s baby was supposedly adopted.”

Suddenly, Gerald felt as if there were no blood left in his veins. His body felt cold and hot at the same time. Understanding sped through his heart, and he knew why Brent and Amber had solemn stares on their faces.

Marti’s baby was alive.

Chris Duke, who had been adopted by Mary and Shane Duke, was Daniel and Marti’s baby.

FIFTY-SEVEN

HIS THROAT FELT TIGHT, BUT
he had to ask the question. He had to hear it for himself. “Are you telling me that the baby Shane and Mary adopted is my grandson?” His voice was rough and scratchy with emotion.

Brent leaned toward Gerald and put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m not one hundred percent positive, Gerald, but it looks that way.”

Gerald stood up with as much strength as he could manage. “Then, let’s go get him.”

Brent put both hands on Gerald’s arms to stop him in his tracks.

“Hold on, Gerald. We have to have proof in hand before we go taking someone’s legally adopted child.”

“Are you crazy? Legally adopted, nothing! If you’re right, she stole our baby—my grandson!” His voice broke on the last word. He sank onto the hay and held his head in his hands. “My grandson.”

Brent sat down beside him and put his hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Gerald. I know how you must feel, but we have to prove it first—beyond the shadow of a doubt—so there won’t be repercussions down the road. A paternity test will prove what we suspect. Then,
I promise we’ll make it right. If Mary lied and stole Chris from Marti, Chris will be returned to his biological parents.
”

“How can you do that? They’re divorced.” Pain for the things Marti went through—losing her home, her husband, the baby—all raged through him like wind through a wildfire. And Daniel—he lost a sister, a wife, and a son—all in one day.

“If they’d had the baby . . . they might not have—” He turned to Brent. “What are you waiting for?”

“We have to get a court order first, and before we can do that, the judge has to make a ruling about the accident. Once we have the court order, we’ll have a paternity test run. We have to go slow so we can find out who else knew about all of this. When we find out, everyone involved will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Now, please be patient. Give us time to finish the investigation. You want everyone involved to be held accountable, don’t you?”

Gerald gritted his teeth and felt a tightening in his chest. He nodded.

“We finished the investigation concerning Marti’s car, and I called Daniel and told him. You’ll be interested to know what we found. The bomb that blew up Marti’s car was activated by remote control. That probably means whoever planted the bomb was targeting Clara, not Marti, and waited until Clara got in the car before activating the bomb—most likely with a cell phone.”

“So the bomb wasn’t meant for Marti?” Gerald felt numb. Marti wasn’t the target after all, but there was so much else to process. “Marti said she was being stalked. Could that have to do with the accident?”

Brent shook his head. “We’re not sure, Gerald. I talked to one of the Alabama police detectives, but he said they never followed up on her file. She moved shortly after reporting her tires being slashed, and they dropped the case.”

“Why would someone want to kill Clara?”

“Clara mailed a copy of those forms to her friend, so she must have suspected the babies were switched. We think
she might have tried to blackmail someone.”

Gerald’s head jerked up. “Who? Who was she blackmailing?”

“Mary would be the primary suspect, but since she’s dead, it has to be someone else.”

“Shane?”

“We don’t know yet, but he’s definitely suspect. There are a couple other people we want to check out as well. One of the nurses at the clinic during that time said there was a male nurse working at the clinic that night who left the day after the accident and never returned. We’re trying to find his new address, and we’re also checking into the alibis of two other people.”

“Who?”

“Parker’s one.”

Gerald was stunned. “Parker? You’re kidding. No way. He and Anita were friends with Marti. They wouldn’t have . . . and killing Clara? No. Not Parker.”

“Records show that Parker and Anita had been trying to adopt a child for years. On Mary’s computer, we found records to prove she arranged an illegal adoption for Parker and his wife. If Clara found out about that and tried to blackmail him, he’d have been worried she might be investigated and they’d lose the baby. I’m sure he would have felt desperate—desperate enough to plant a bomb in Marti’s car.”

“But Parker—”

“We also want to check out Jordan Welsh.”

Gerald didn’t know how many more shocks he could handle. “Welsh? How does he fit in?”

“Jordan and Mary Duke were cousins who lived in the same town growing up. They’d been in regular contact over the years. Jordan was convicted years ago and did time in prison for murder one as well as falsifying government documents. He was also the primary suspect in a jewelry store robbery when the security guard was killed, but they had no concrete proof. He has the background and experience to counterfeit the adoption papers for Parker and Anita. He has an alibi for the time when the bomb could have been detonated, but it’s weak. His men said he was working with them on the ranch mending fences, but the ranch is right outside the city limits. He could have driven to town, planted the bomb, and been back working on the fences in less than twenty minutes. His men agree he could have been gone that long without them missing him.”

“But what would he have against Marti? None of that has anything to do with her.”

“We don’t know all the answers, Gerald, but we will. Give us a little time.”

Brent paused for a minute and watched Gerald process all the information before he continued.

“We still need to check out the male nurse on duty that night at the clinic. Even if he’s not involved, he may have seen something. We’re in the process of trying to locate him.”

Gerald nodded—still staring at the ground.

Amber Pike had been silent, but now she stepped forward and held out her hand to Gerald. “Goodbye, Gerald. Will . . . will you be all right?”

Gerald stood and shook her hand. His nod was slight but firm. Brent shook Gerald’s hand and patted him on the back. “Gerald, remember . . . don’t mention this toanyone until we have proof . . . especially Marti or Daniel. I wanted to see if you could help us solve some of these mysteries and to ask you to keep your ears open.”

Gerald nodded, but wondered how in the world he was going to sit on this powder keg of information.

FIFTY-EIGHT

DANIEL TURNED AROUND AND SAW
Veronica speaking to the security guard. He cleared his throat and whispered to Marti, “Excuse me.”

He walked back to the door and put his arm around Veronica’s shoulders. He explained to the man that Veronica was with him, and he let her pass. Veronica gave him a warm embrace until her eyes picked up Marti sitting on the back row. She flashed a startled look into Daniel’s eyes. Marti could hear everything she said and cringed at the tone in her voice.

“What’s she doing here?”

Daniel responded quietly, and Marti heard nothing of what he said.

“What do you mean, she has a painting in the auction? Have you seen her painting? This is just a ploy . . . a trick. She just wants to spend time with a handsome man like you, darling.”

Marti imagined the enraged green of Veronica’s eyes and gulped, refusing to glance back. Spouting angry words in private was one thing, but within hearing distance of a full crowd was a little embarrassing.

At that moment, her painting was placed up on the easel.

“Here we have a beautiful painting of the Hendrix House on Watkins Avenue by Marti Rushing. Notice the light and shadows that make this painting such a treasure. Who would like to start the bidding?”

A man in a green shirt sitting in the front row raised his hand and bid. “Fifty dollars.”

Marti listened with feeble breath as several bidders raised the price of her painting to five hundred dollars. During a short pause in bidding, the auctioneer reminded everyone what a great cause they were raising money for, and someone shouted, “Five hundred twenty-five!” When another pause hushed the crowd, a voice from the back called out.

“Five thousand dollars.”

The crowd collectively gasped and turned toward the back to get a glimpse of the person bidding. Marti didn’t have to turn around to recognize Daniel’s voice. At the same time it registered who the bidder was, she heard Veronica’s shocked voice. “Daniel!”

The auctioneer shouted, “We have five thousand dollars. Going once, going twice, sold to bidder number one hundred forty-six for five thousand dollars!”