Behind the Shadows (14 page)

She sped down the streets to the hospital, praying that this really was the transplant that would save her mother's life. Then she could drop the whole other mess. She would never mention the switched babies again.

Her mother need never know she'd missed the childhood years of her biological child. Or did she have a moral imperative to tell her mother?

She sped to the hospital, breaking every speed limit. She wanted to be there before the kidney arrived, before they started prepping her mother. Or had they already?

She squealed into the parking lot and ran inside. The information desk was empty. So was the entrance hall. She had often scoffed at movies where a hospital seemed empty when a bad guy pursued the heroine through its halls. But she'd found it eerily true late at night.

She was the sole passenger on the elevator up to her mother's floor. Once there she ran down the corridor. She stopped at the nurse's station. They all knew her well by now.

“They're prepping her now,” one said.

“Has the kidney arrived?”

“It should be here within the hour. The transplant team is already here.”

Kira went down to her mother's room. Katy Douglas turned her way, her smile luminous. “I'm so glad you got here.”

The surgeon entered then. Nodded to her, then went to her mother's side. “It's not certain yet. I want you to understand that. When it arrives, we have to mix your blood with the donor's blood. If there is no reaction, it means you are compatible with the donor. If there is a reaction, the kidney won't work for you because it's incompatible. Or the donor kidney might show signs of deterioration or poor function.”

“I understand,” Katy said. She and her physician had gone through the protocols several times.

He looked at Kira, and she nodded as well.

A technician hurried in, took several vials of blood, then left.

The surgeon left.

Katy looked at Kira, and her eyes lingered on the rather large bandage on her arm. “What happened?”

“Just a fall. You know me. I'm always in a hurry and sometimes my feet trip over each other. It's a curse.”

Her mother's eyes bore into her, demanding the truth. It was damn hard lying to her, but by now she'd dismissed the incident at the rapid rail station as an accident.

“Truly it's only a small cut,” she said. “Nothing to worry about.”

She pulled the only chair in the room up to the bed and took her mother's hand.

Her mother's eyes met hers. “If it doesn't match, there's always another one,” she said. “Don't worry about me. I'm like the Energizer Bunny. You always said so.”

“It will be so good to have you home again,” Kira said. “The house is empty without you.”

Her mother squeezed her hand.

Minutes passed by. They talked of big and little things. Of old memories and new ones.

“I remember when you first walked,” her mother said. “Earlier than any of the other babies your age. You started talking before anyone else, too.”

“I think you're prejudiced.” She hesitated, then asked, “You've never said much about my father.” It was vital now that she learn more. Leigh had the right to know.

“He gave me you,” her mother said, “and I always loved him for that. But we were both young. He was a musician, more into drugs than I thought, and a wanderer by nature. He tried. I think he really tried, but the only thing he knew was music and the only way you made music was traveling. When he took off, he left every penny he had. It wasn't much but it was a lot for him. He sent money for a year, not much, but I suspect it was a lot to him. Then suddenly it no longer came. I tried to find someone who knew something. I finally located one of the band members who was in Atlanta with him. He was killed in an accident.”

“He didn't have any family?”

“He said not.” She squeezed Kira's hand. “I never talked about him because of the drugs; that part was a nightmare. But you have every right to know. He was a great guitarist but a really poor husband.” She paused. “Don't ever fall in love in a day.”

A warning she really needed to heed.

Her mother squeezed Kira's hand. “I love you, baby.”

“Ditto,” Kira replied.

Her mother lay back. More technicians and nurses came in. More blood taken. Body washed.

It was really happening.

Her mother was transferred to a stretcher.

Kira leaned over to kiss her.

Watched her wheeled out.

And started praying.

15

Kira paced the large waiting room furnished with lounge chairs. A number of people slept. Others read.

She couldn't do either. She was up and down, glancing at the door when anyone entered. The hands on the clock crawled.

Even then she was startled when her name was called. She glanced at the clock. Only an hour had gone by since her mother was wheeled out. Too soon!

She went to the door.

“The donor kidney showed signs of deterioration,” the surgeon said. “We had to abort the transplant. I'm sorry.”

Hope plunged. The optimism that had played in her mind faded. Now Leigh's help was essential.

She had so hoped …

On many levels.

She waited for her mother to be wheeled out of the operating room. She was sleepy from the sedative. Kira leaned over and kissed her.

Katy's eyes fluttered open. “Is it over?”

“The kidney wasn't good,” she replied. “They didn't go through with it.”

“I
thought
I would hurt a lot more,” Katy said with a touch of her old humor.

“I'm so sorry.”

“There wasn't much time to feel lucky about it,” Katy replied. The words were light, but Kira felt the quiet desperation behind them. Her mother was seldom down, at least when Kira was present. She didn't know what gremlins haunted her mother when she was absent.

“Go … home,” her mother said. “I'm sleepy, and you probably look worse than I do.”

“We'll find a kidney,” Kira said. “I promise.”

“Go home, sweetie,” her mother said again. “I can't sleep until you do.” She gave Kira a wan smile. “I love you.” Then she closed her eyes.

Once out of the hospital, she turned the cell phone back on. Still no messages from Max Payton.

Her heart, already battered, sank. She had hoped he would get back to her immediately. He knew how urgent it was.

She would have to go to court, after all.

She would call Chris first thing in the morning and get the list of attorneys. It may further alienate Leigh Howard, but if she waited, her mother might die. Surely if the woman
knew
her mother was dying, she would want to help. Right now Leigh Howard was still stunned. Disbelieving.

Kira understood that. She, too, was trying to wrap her mind around the inconceivable. But she couldn't wait while Leigh dithered. If she had to use the threat of going after the woman's fortune, she would.

She wanted to call Chris immediately, but there was little he could do at this hour. First thing in the morning. Seven. Maybe even earlier. Her eyes blurred by rare tears, she stumbled to her car. There had been so much hope a few hours earlier.

But she had been warned.

She walked to her car. The parking lot was much emptier than it had been. A drizzle muted the parking lot lights. It was dark and lonely, and for a moment fear ran through her. The incident on the rapid rail platform was still very real.

She hurried her steps, unlocked the car from her remote, and stepped inside. She immediately locked the doors, not waiting this time to turn on the engine.

She'd never been afraid before. Aware, yes. Afraid, no.

She didn't like the feeling now.

She drove back to her mother's house and parked in the driveway. It had a one-car garage, and her mother's car stayed there.

Her mother had bought the small brick home at a steep discount because it was located in a less-than-desirable area, and sales had been slow. Since then, though, the area had become gentrified and property values had spiraled upward.

The house was as she'd left it. One light on in the dining room, the rest of the interior dark. The porch light was on. Keys in hand, she hurried to the porch, then remembered she hadn't locked it. She turned the knob and stepped inside. In the dim light coming from the dining room, she saw chaos. Total chaos. The room had been tossed.

Not searched. Trashed. Papers strewn across the floor. A cut across one of her mother's favorite paintings. Clothes jerked from hangers and torn. She immediately went to her room and looked for her computer. It was gone. So was her box of jewelry. Nothing really expensive but several nice pieces in the hundred- and two-hundred-dollar range. Stuff she'd carefully selected and really liked.

She checked the rest of the house. Her mother's room was equally destroyed. The room that served as an office for the housekeeping business had been tossed. That computer was gone. She searched for the index file of customers. Again gone.

A lot of the information was in her head. She knew the names, had memorized some of the phone numbers. She could re-create records. But she didn't like the idea of those names in someone else's possession. Then she looked in the drawer with the keys to their homes.

Oh God, they were gone as well. She would have to contact each one and offer to bear the cost of replacing locks.

Not only that, but what would she tell her mother?

If her mother ever returned home
.

She called the police, then Chris.

“Be right over,” he said.

He was there in fifteen minutes. The police hadn't arrived.

“I'm afraid a tossed house isn't one of their top priorities,” he commented as he glanced around the room. “Christ. This wasn't just a burglary. This was personal.”

“That's what I thought, too. Why would someone linger long enough to rip a hole in an inexpensive painting?”

“A message?” he suggested.

“From whom?”

“Written any stories someone may not like?”

“A bunch. But I can't imagine any of them pushing someone into doing this. This … this is pure rage.” She paused. “Something else happened earlier today … or yesterday.”

“What?”

“I was taking MARTA. It was late. After seven. Someone bumped me on the platform. I almost fell onto the tracks.”

His eyes ran over her, lingered at her bandaged arm. “Christ, why didn't you call me?”

“I thought it was an accident. So did an onlooker who grabbed me. Now …” Her voice faded.

“What happened tonight? Where were you?”

“I had a call. The transplant people had a kidney for Mom. I went to the hospital, but it was a false alarm. The kidney had deteriorated. I just left her an hour ago.”

Chris didn't say anything, but there was a very big elephant on the table. A big suspicion neither of them wanted to voice.

“How much do you want to tell the police?”

“It can't have anything to do with the Westerfields,” she said. “They just found out this morning …”

“You can't dismiss it, either,” he said quietly.

“No, but if I say anything to the police … it will be all over the media. It will sound like an accusation, and Leigh … She may never cooperate. I didn't want to call the police for that reason, but the insurance …”

The doorbell rang, and Kira answered it. Two uniformed officers stood there. “We had a call about a burglary.”

She stood aside to let them in. “I'm Kira Douglas. This is my mother's house, but I'm staying here. She's in the hospital. I came home after … visiting her and found this …” She gestured with her arm.

“And you?” asked one of the officers as he faced Chris. He looked about twenty.

“Chris Burke,” he replied. “I was formerly with the Atlanta police, now a PI.”

The two officers perked up. “Heard of you,” one said. “You working a case?”

“Kira's a friend,” Chris said, avoiding answering the specific question. “Her mother worked for me for years and was great when my wife was sick.”

The officer turned back to Kira. “When did you come home to find this?”

Kira looked at her watch. “About thirty minutes ago. I called Chris and the police.”

“The hospital?” queried one of the officers.

“My mother has renal failure and is waiting for a kidney transplant. We thought she had one tonight but it … didn't work out.”

She answered all their questions, admitting to her carelessness in leaving the door unlocked.

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” the officer said. “Did anyone know you were leaving?”

She shook her head. “I just ran out when I heard there might be a chance …”

“Any idea as to who might have done this? Doesn't look like a random burglary.”

She hesitated only a moment before shaking her head. “No.”

“Anything missing?”

“Two computers, including a laptop. Jewelry. I don't know what else yet. A lot of things were just destroyed.”

He took several forms from a clipboard he'd carried in. “Make a list of all the missing items. Include any registration numbers and bring it to the precinct in the next two days.”

“That's all?” she blurted out.

“What about fingerprints?” Chris asked.

“You know we don't do that on a burglary.”

“Ordinary burglaries, no, but there's violence here.”

One of the officers hesitated. “Gotta have a good reason to call in investigators.”

“Use my name.”

“You can't tell me anything else?”

“I just don't like what I see here,” Chris said. “I think this lady could be in danger. It's not your everyday nonviolent burglary.”

The older officer made a call. She couldn't hear the conversation, but he soon returned. “A technician will be here in an hour. In the meantime, maybe you can go ahead and make out that list of missing items while he's here.”