I Have a Secret (A Sloane Monroe Novel, Book Three) (17 page)

The comment seemed to surprise both Rosalind and Giovanni alike.  But a smug-faced Rosalind didn’t allow it to affect her mission.  “What if you could name your price?”

I gave it some thought.  “All right then.”

“How much?”

“I don’t want your money.”

“What then—a gift of some kind?  Name it.”

“Justice.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “I don’t follow.”

“I’ll leave when Doug’s killer is found and pays for his or her crimes—and not a moment before.”

While Giovanni spoke to his men in the kitchenette, I paced the bedroom.  There was a good reason why Rosalind wanted me gone, and I needed to find it.  Alexa was a hot button with her, so I decided to start there.  I sat on a chair next to a circular table, connected my laptop to the internet and searched the name Alexa Ward on the Archives website.  It didn’t take long for me to access her birth certificate. 

Born Alexandria Anne Ward on December 28, 1991, it wasn’t hard to do the math.  Trista would have gotten pregnant before graduation, which was the reason they dropped out of college and got married.  But why hide it?  Wasn’t it obvious the baby in the baby carriage came first?  The certificate listed the parents as Doug and Trista Ward, no surprises there, and the doctor as Wayne F. Robinson, MD, a name I knew well.  He was the same doctor who delivered me.  

Giovanni entered the room with a curious look on his face.  “What are you staring at so intently?”

“Alexa’s birth certificate.  She’s Trista’s daughter,” I said.

“Why are you so interested?”

“I don’t know yet. She’s a sore spot with Rosalind every time we talk to each other.  According to the birth certificate, Alexa was conceived before Trista and Doug married, but Trista hasn’t said a word to me; in fact, no one has.”

“How they came to be parents doesn’t seem relevant to the murders.  Maybe she wanted to keep that part of her life private.”

I wasn’t so sure. 

The home Wayne F. Robinson, MD resided in was a square, single-level structure that looked like it had been built back in the time of covered wagons and hoop skirts.  Green shutters with chipped paint adorned the windows on all sides of the red brick house.

I ascended a few steps and knocked.  From the see-through glass etching in the center of the door someone inside the house rose from a chair and glanced in my direction.  It was a man.  He stretched his hand out, grabbed something at his side and began what would become a two minute trek to the front door.  When it finally opened, I was shocked at the man who stood before me.  He was hunched over and now used a cane.  His once slick brown hair had been replaced with strands of white, and he was a foot or two shorter than I remembered. 

“Doctor Robinson?” I said.

He smiled revealing a mouth with eighty percent of its teeth still intact.  “Yes?”

“I don’t know if you remember me,” I said.  “Sloane Monroe.  You delivered my sister and me in the seventies.” 

He rubbed a finger across his chin.  “Twins?”

I nodded, shocked his memory was still so vivid.

“You girls were the only babies that came out the way you did,” he said.

“How’s that?”

“Jet black hair.  Both of you.  Never seen so much hair on two babies before.  Is there something I can do for you?”

“I wanted to ask you about another baby you delivered.”

He swung the door open and winked.  “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but I never turn down the opportunity for a little company.”

I followed him past a bevy of hanging plants and sat in a chair at the kitchen table.  He retrieved two glasses from the cupboard and set one down in front of me.

“What can I get you?” he said.  “Milk?  Juice?  Water?  And if you don’t like any of those, I can brew some coffee.”

“I’m fine.” 

“How about some orange juice?”

To send the conversation in a non-liquid direction, I smiled and nodded. 

The good doctor returned seconds later and joined me.  “Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Twenty years ago you delivered a baby for Doug and Trista Ward.”

The ice in the glass he held rattled. 

“Is everything okay?” I said.

He mustered a slight grin.  “Fine…fine.”

But it wasn’t fine.  The moment I mentioned their names his eyes darted around the room like a fly with no place to land. 

“Why do you want to know about the baby?” he said.

I sipped my drink.  “Alexa’s birth was kept quiet from what I understand.  I looked through the archived newspapers this morning.  There wasn’t even an announcement about her arrival.  Don’t you find that strange?

He leaned back in his chair.  “Why?”

“This is Rosalind Ward’s grandbaby we’re talking about here.  Her
first
grandbaby.  Alexa should have made her debut on the front page.”

He shook his head.  “How would I know anything?”

“Doug’s sons, Joshua and Jack, had a full-page spread on page one.  Care to know who joined them in the photo?”

He frowned. 

“Rosalind,” I said.  “She glammed it up for the camera with that ridiculous smile of hers and a little bundle of joy in each one of her arms.”

He turned his hand upward.  “There’s not much to say.  I delivered Alexa, and I was her pediatrician as a child.  Beyond that, there’s not much I can tell you about her.  I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”

Nice try, but his hand hadn’t stopped shaking.     

“I’ve had Alexa on my mind a lot over the past few days,” I said.  “Something about her has bothered me since the moment we met.  For a Ward, she has a weird shaped head.”

He stifled a laugh.  “What do you mean?”

“Doug had a square-shaped head, so does Trista, so do the twin boys, but Alexa has an oval—a very defined oval.”

“So?”

“Two squares don’t produce an oval, do they?  And what about those blue eyes of hers?  Doug’s were brown, the same as Trista and the boys.  Do you see where I’m going with all this yet?”

He made a gurgling sound once, then again, and looked me in the eye.  “Listen to me very carefully, Sloane.  I’m not sure why you’re looking into the past, but it would be best if you didn’t.”  He waved his hand back and forth.  “Forget about this nonsense.”

“Best for whom?”

“What?”

“You just said it would be best if I didn’t look into the past,” I said.  “Why?”

“Sometimes it’s better if things remain as they are.”

I’d grown tired of everyone’s excuses.  He knew something.  It was obvious.

“I’m not leaving town until I find out what it is no one will tell me.  If I have to go back to Rosalind and force it out of her, I will.”

He hung his head and whispered, “I wish you wouldn’t.”

The egg had almost cracked.  If I pushed a little harder, I was confident he’d tell me what I needed to know.  I slammed my hand down on the table but not hard enough to give him a heart attack.  “How many men need to die before someone in this town breaks their silence!”

“I don’t understand.  What do the murders have to do with Alexa?”

“You tell me.”  

A perfect mixture of sorrow and regret covered his face.  “If I tell you what I know, I need to be sure Rosalind doesn’t find out it came from me.  You don’t understand what it’s like to live in this town with her watching your every move.  I’m finally under her radar after all these years, and I won’t get sucked back into her world—not again.” 

“No one will ever know it was you.  I promise.”

He relaxed a little but still looked like he was in fear over what he was about to tell me.  “Many years ago, Rosalind came to me with a request.  She said Doug had gotten a girl pregnant.”

If the girl had been the mysterious woman from the party, how would anyone have known the baby belonged to Doug and not one of the other guys?

“What was the girl’s name?”

“I don’t recall.”

“Can’t you look it up?” I said.

He shook his head.  “There’s no paperwork.”

“Why?”

“Rosalind thought the girl was lying, but she didn’t want to take any chances.  When the girl went into labor, Rosalind brought her to me.  And once the baby was born, a DNA test was performed.  There was no doubt—the baby was Doug’s.”

“Alexa was the baby, right?”

He nodded. 

“I don’t understand,” I said.  “You’re saying the mother just handed her baby over to Doug and Trista?”   

He tilted his head to the side.  “Not exactly.”

“Well then, what happened?”

“We…no…I …told the mother the baby died shortly after it was born.  It was a good way to keep the mother away from her baby until we were sure whose baby it was.”

I felt like my lungs had collapsed.  “Why would you do such a thing?”

“It was Rosalind…you don’t understand, I had to.”

“How much did she pay you to keep quiet?” I said.  “And there’s no use telling me she didn’t bribe you for your services…I know better.”

“Fifty.”

“Thousand?”

His silence provided the answer. 

So much was being revealed, I couldn’t keep up.  “Let me make sure I have this right.  A girl gets pregnant and Doug is the father.  The baby, who I know as Alexa, is born, and the mother is told the baby died shortly after she gave birth.  Why wouldn’t she want to see her baby one last time or plan a funeral for it?”

“You underestimate Rosalind’s power.  The girl was paid handsomely to keep her mouth shut.  She agreed to leave town and never return or get in touch with Doug again.  It was understood Rosalind would be in charge of the funeral arrangements.”

“Of course it was.  But what I don’t understand is how none of this ever got out?”

“The only people in the room besides me were Rosalind and Doug.”

“It doesn’t change the facts.  A baby was born, and that baby grew up in this town.  You’re telling me no one noticed Trista wasn’t pregnant and then all of the sudden had a baby?”

“The young lady found out she was pregnant in her first trimester.  Once Rosalind got involved, her only goal was damage control.  Rosalind moved Trista into her house, and for six months, Trista wasn’t seen by anyone.  No one knew she wasn’t the mother of the baby.  Not even her parents.”

I pushed myself out of the chair and stood.  Doctor Robinson tried to do the same, but it took far more effort for him to get to his feet.

“I need to go,” I said.

He placed his hand on my arm.  “You must understand.  I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.  The girl was a mess.  Some druggie teenager with a bad home life from Lancaster.  She wasn’t in any condition to raise a baby.  I gave Alexa the best chance for a decent life.”

He’d played God, but one look in his eyes and I could tell he knew it wasn’t right.  I opened the front door and stepped onto the porch.  “It wasn’t for you to decide.”

The web of lies I’d been fed had spun out of control, and on the top of the list was one person: Trista.

Screams echoed from inside the house.  I didn’t bother knocking—I forced the door open and ran inside.  The foyer was empty, and there was no sign of Trista or the kids.  Another scream sounded and I rushed toward the master bedroom.  I thought about signaling Lucio who waited for me in the car, but there wasn’t time.  I drew my gun, braced myself against the wall and slid down the hallway, trying to make the smallest sound possible.  I entered the bedroom and heard voices.  Trista spoke and then someone else, but it was muffled, and I couldn’t make it out until I moved closer.