Behind the Shadows (17 page)

“I thought about it,” she said. “I just don't believe it. I can't believe it.”

“Will you take the test if I arrange it? Privately. No publicity.”

“That would be admitting it could be true. It isn't.”

“Then we can prove it once and for all, and Kira Douglas will go away.”

“You swear?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She hesitated for a moment. Then she nodded slowly. “That doesn't mean I accept the possibility. I just want to get rid of this woman.”

He sighed internally. “I'll set up a DNA test immediately. It's easy. Just a swab from your mouth.”

“I know. I went online and read everything I could.”

He smiled. “You did?”

“I'm really not as clueless as you think I am.”

“I never thought that. I just thought you were hiding from the world, and I wanted to jerk you back.” He took a sip of coffee. “There's nothing I would like more than to hand over the inheritance to you, no strings attached.”

“And then what would you do?”

He shrugged. “Continue as attorney for Westerfield Industries if you want.”

“Not if Jack Melton has anything to do with it,” she said with a sudden slyness he didn't like.

That stopped him. “What do you know?”

“Jack wants you out. He's approached me about it. He wants me to fight the trust. He knows I'm angry about Grandfather's conditions. He thinks I'm angry enough to put him in charge.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I won't go behind your back. I've learned a little in the past year. I won't forget what you did for me in college or in getting rid of Adam.”

But despite her words, her eyes were guarded.

“And Seth? Does he agree with Jack?”

“It really doesn't matter. He doesn't have enough stock to count.”

But Seth did have an influence on her, and Max didn't need a lawsuit contesting the trust. Not now.

She abruptly changed the subject. “What if the tests prove a match? I won't give a kidney. I can't. I never want to see a hospital again.” She paused. “What are my rights?”

“No one can force you to donate. As far as the trust goes, I did more research. As I said, I think it could go either way. A judge would decide whom Ed meant to be his main beneficiary. Was it you specifically? Or was it the daughter of his daughter?”

She played with her teacup. “You've checked into her background. Find anything?”

“No. She's what she seems. I really do believe her only interest is getting the kidney.”

“I wonder how long that will last,” she said, not bothering to hide her doubts about it.

“I don't know,” he admitted, and really didn't. Money did strange things to people, and a great deal of money did even stranger things. “But I can draw up an enforceable contract.”

“And she can come back and say she signed it under duress.”

Another surprise. Leigh had grown up, and he hadn't noticed. “Yes,” he admitted. “That doesn't mean a judge would agree.

“Leigh, I want you to think very seriously about it. The attack and burglary last night might well make Ms. Douglas go public, and I don't think you want that.”

She nodded, then looked uncertain. “You're sure I should do this?”

“If not, we would only be postponing the inevitable. Once we know what we're facing, well, then there're options.”

“All right, then,” she said reluctantly.

“I'll call you about the time,” he said.

She nodded, but her gaze wouldn't meet his, and he saw her hand trembling on the table. She saw his gaze and stood. “I have to get dressed.”

“It'll be all right,” he said.

“Will it?” she replied dubiously, and left the room before he could answer. He sat there as Mrs. Baker returned and cleaned up the dishes. He was surprised by Leigh's capitulation.

Had she really grown up that much? Or was something else at work?

18

Leigh felt the walls closing in on her again, just as metal had twenty-six years ago. Squeezing the life from her. She'd tried not to let Max see it. But it was there in her mind. In her reality.

She walked into the paneled den where she gazed on the portrait of her mother. There was one of her father in her own room.

“I wish you were here,” she whispered to the woman in the portrait. A lullaby floated in her mind. She'd been loved, probably the only time in her life. Now someone wanted to take even that away.

She would have liked to see a more combative Max. A “Hell, no, we won't” would have been far preferable to what she believed was acquiescence. She'd given him the answer he wanted, but that didn't mean she would be available for an appointment. Even the idea of needles sent shivers through her. He should have known that. Maybe he did. Maybe he was right, but dread was a dark pit inside. The nightmares had increased in the past few days. Her mother's bloody face and empty eyes …

Her mother.

Not some stranger's mother.
Hers
. The one she remembered and loved and even talked to on occasion.

Kira Douglas was responsible. She hated the woman, first for the way she'd intruded in her life and now for trying to destroy it.

She went to the phone, started to call Seth, then hung up. It was time she depended on herself.

Her city editor took one look at Kira when she arrived late and called her aside. “Let's go into an office,” he said.

She followed him, her heart sinking. She had to tell him what was going on. If she didn't, and kept asking for time, he would fire her. She would have to trust him.

She hated to do that. She hated putting a burden on him when it was her problem. She would be asking him to do what a reporter never did: withhold one hell of a story.

She followed him into a room. He closed the door and nodded toward a chair. “Sit.”

She did. He could be formidable at times, a teddy bear at others.

“You look like hell,” he said.

“That bad?”

“That bad. How long since you've had some sleep?”

“Night before last?”

“I don't need a zombie.”

“The story was good yesterday.”

“It could have been better. Didn't have your usual flair.” He sat on the table. “Talk to me, Kira. Is your mother worse? Something else going on?” His eyes traveled to the bandage on her arm.

“A lot is going on,” she said. “I need your word, though, that you won't print anything until I approve it.”

“You have my attention,” he said. “What do I have to give up?”

“A story that's still unfinished, but if everything works out, it could be a great story, an award-winning story. Or it could be a great story that can't ever be printed.”

“You still have my attention. Why can't it be printed?”

“It could destroy lives. All of a sudden I'm questioning what I do for a living.”

“Kira, you're one of the best I've seen. You can extract stuff no one else can. I don't want to lose you.” He sighed. “A great story that can't be printed. You ever read those Greek myths?”

“Tantalus?” she said.

He nodded. “I'm not good at wanting something I can't have. Give me a good reason.”

“A woman's life.”

“Your mother's?”

“Yes.”

“The transplant?”

“We thought we had a donor last night. She was prepped, ready to go, and at the last moment they pulled the plug. Something wrong with the kidney.”

“Hell, Kira. That's rough.”

“There's more,” she said. “I might have a live donor for Mom.”

“You told me there wasn't a match.”

Leap of faith
. “There could be.” Her hand clutched the notebook she'd brought with her. “My mother's biological daughter. I just found out about it.” She hesitated, then added, “The blood tests I took showed I couldn't be her biological daughter. There's one out there and I think I know who she is.”

“Christ,” he said. “You had no idea?”

Then she told him about the possibility of a baby swap. Then the MARTA incident and the burglary. She left out any mention of Max.

“You think all this is connected.”

“I think it's a good possibility.”

She explained everything, every theory she had. Everything but the name of Leigh Howard. “Mom doesn't know. She can't know. She's extremely weak and this kind of news … could kill her.”

“How much did you tell the police?”

“Not all of it. I was afraid it would get to the media.”

“And this person. She doesn't want to give a kidney.”

“I don't think she believes it. No one would. I didn't at first.”

“Who is it?” Then his eyes widened. “That feature you insisted on doing. Does it have anything to do with it?”

“Yes.” She'd hoped he wouldn't come to that conclusion this quickly. She knew she could get fired for using the newspaper. Her throat closed in on her, but she had to tell him. “It was an opportunity to get a DNA sample.”

“My God,” he said as rubbed his face. “Are you saying what I think you're saying? That one of the city's most prominent families might be involved in attempted murder and burglary as well as covering up a baby switch?”

She nodded. “It was unethical using the newspaper to get to know her, but it
was
a good story. It was only way I thought I could get DNA fast without stirring up a mess. It showed a match.”

“You apparently kicked up a mess anyway.”

“Yes,” she said unhappily.

“This is a damned good story. Switched babies. A life hanging in the balance …”

“I know,” she said miserably. “But it could cost my mother her life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I offered to keep everything quiet and not say anything or make any claim on the Westerfield trust if she donates a kidney. She would simply be a Good Samaritan. My mother would get a kidney. All would be right with the world.”

“Except for attempted murder. You could have been killed.”

“I wasn't.”

Another line had been added to the lines around his eyes in the past few moments. But she was glad she'd told him. This could come back to haunt the newspaper, and she couldn't let that happen. Her actions were her own.

Wade Carlton shifted his teddy-bear bulk on the desk, stared at her for a moment. “Anything important coming up in city hall the rest of this week?”

“Just a few more budget hearings by various committees.”

“Okay. Tell you what we'll do, though I'll have to run it by the managing editor. I'm going to put you on special assignment for the next two weeks. Keep a daily diary, and we'll do a series on the need for transplant donations. You can do it on your own time. If we can use the Westerfield angle, we will. You're right. It would make a blockbuster story, but I'm not going to risk someone's life for it. If we can't use it, the stories will make a damn good public service series.”

She should have known. She'd known Wade for five years, not only on a business basis. They were friends outside the newsroom as well. “Thank you.”

“I'll have to run it by Jim first. And I'll talk to him about getting you some protection, just as he did for Robin last year.” He stood. “I think you should tell the police everything.”

“A few more days first. I have to give Leigh Howard time to agree. If she won't, all bets are off.”

He frowned.

“I promise to tell the police if I don't have an agreement by Friday.”

“I'll hold you to that. Now go home, straighten up, and get some rest. I'll have Diane fill in for you at city hall. I'll talk to Jim and call you this afternoon.”

“I'll keep city hall?”

“Yeah.”

For the first time in several days, she felt at least part of the load lift from her shoulder. She stood. “I really am sorry about the Leigh Howard story. I should have checked with you first.”

“Yeah, you should have,” he said.

It was a rebuke. It sounded offhand, but she knew it wasn't. He was disappointed in her and that hurt.

She went to Diane Doza's desk and filled her in on the ongoing stories at city hall. Diane, a general assignment reporter, had substituted for her before and knew the issues and personalities.

She left for home. There were calls to the insurance company. Furniture to be replaced, though most would have to wait until the insurance money came in. A computer to be replaced; that was a necessity. A visit to her mother and a call to her doctor.

Chris was still there. He handed her keys for new locks and explained the security system. “I've done some work for them,” he said. “They're giving you twelve months' free service.”

She wanted to say no, but she didn't have that luxury at the moment. She would pay him back sometime in the future.

“Call me if you need anything. Call if you even suspect a problem. Okay?”

“Definitely. I'm a first-rate coward.”

He grinned. “I wouldn't exactly say that.”

“Believe me.”

“As long as you call at the first sign there's something wrong …”

“I will. For the moment, though, I'm going to bed.”

He continued to stay there, then said, “I thought I would take Archie and pay Ms. Howard a visit.”

“Why Archie?”

“He has a way of disarming women.”

Kira had no doubt that could happen. Archie was a mismatched dog, as if he were composed of spare parts. He had a perpetual good nature despite, or perhaps because of, an obviously abusive puppyhood.

“You think you can convince her when her attorney can't.”

“I have more than a few reservations about the attorney, but then I don't care much for attorneys in general. Cop bias.”

“Go for it,” she said. There seemed nothing to lose. Chris could be disarming. He'd probably been the good cop during interrogations.