Behind the Shadows (34 page)

She showed Leigh around the kitchen: coffee, tea, bread. “There's wine in the fridge and some salad stuff and cold cuts. Help yourself. My house is your house.”

“Thank you,” Leigh said. “Now will you do as Chris said? Go to bed. You look like you're ready to drop.”

“I don't know if I can sleep,” Kira said.

“I think you're ready to pass out,” Leigh said. “And I'll be here.”

Kira held out her hand. “I'm sorry all this happened to you. I know it's been really hard.”

“You, too.”

“I meant it when I said I don't want anything but Mom to get well.”

“We can talk about that later.”

Kira felt as if she was going to pass out. “I'll show you to Mom's room. You can use one of my robes and nightshirts. They will be a bit big—”

“Anything will be fine,” Leigh cut her off.

Kira used the railing to help her upstairs to the bedrooms. She was that tired. When they reached her room, she found two nightshirts and handed one to Leigh along with a robe. “Mom's room is across the hall,” Kira said, grateful that she'd replaced the mattress.

“I'll bring some water,” Leigh said. “Are the pain pills in your purse?”

Kira nodded. If felt good to have someone take care of her. Really good. She was so tired …

Leigh went back downstairs. She hesitated at the mantel again and the photos. Frames might have been smashed, but some of the photos survived the burglary.

Regret tugged at her. She didn't know what it was like to be a part of a real family. Hers had been a disaster.

Even that, though, was falling away beneath her. Each time she thought she had found footing, another piece fell, just like some of the earthquake movies she'd seen.

Mrs. Baker and Max had been the only two constants in her life. Mrs. Baker, though, always kept an emotional distance. Grandfather had been a distant, disapproving figure. And Max? Max had been her nemesis as well as protector. And scold. He would scold in a quiet, commonsense way that often reduced her to tears but also made her think. She'd hated his fingers on the purse and yet eventually she usually got what she wanted, but in a reasoned manner, not a haphazard one. It had taken her a very long time to learn that. He'd wanted her to think about why she wanted something and whether she was willing to take care of whatever it was.

And now Max was suspected of murder. She shoved away the idea. Someone was just plain wrong. She returned to the kitchen even as she continued to look around the interior. The home was small but cozy, or it would have been if much of the furniture hadn't been split or scratched. The remnants looked as if they had been comfortable.

She compared it to her house. Hers was much larger. Much more luxurious, but it never had the warmth this house must have had.

She should have changed the house, refurnished it, added her own taste, but she'd remained cowed by her grandfather, even two years after his death. Just like she still didn't have a pet. He'd have none of it while he was alive.

Maude and the horses were as close to defiance as she ever got, even after his death.

She filled a glass with ice and water, then found Kira's purse. She found the pills and took both water glass and pills back upstairs.

Kira took one pill and gulped it down. “Thanks,” she said.

Leigh turned to leave.

“Stay for a few minutes,” Kira said.

Leigh lingered. She looked around the room. It was small, the bed a single. Built-in bookcases lined one side of the room, and they were filled with a combination of books and teddy bears.

“What can I say,” Kira said, apparently noticing her interest. “I was a sucker for teddy bears. And I never could get rid of any of them. So they stayed here when I moved. They kinda welcomed me back when I moved in.”

“You don't seem like the teddy bear type.” Leigh continued looking and noticed a photo tucked away at the end of the counter. A black-and-white photo of a band.

“The third from the left is my long-lost father, or your father.” Kira gave a mirthless laugh. “Confusing, isn't it?”

“Tell me about him.”

“Not much to tell.

“Is he still alive?”

Kira stiffened, and Leigh knew suddenly it was a sore subject. Still, she kept a photo. Something else in common. Neither of them could quite let go of the past.

“I don't think so,” Kira said. “He left less than a year after I was born. Mom thinks he died in an accident.”

“Did you ever think about looking for him?”

“No,” Kira said sharply. “Why should I? He left Mom when she needed him.”

“Were they married?”

“Mom thought they were. She was months from high school graduation. She loved music. You might say she was a groupie. His band played at her prom, and he singled her out. A week later they were married by a JP. At least she thought they were. Later when she decided to get a divorce, she couldn't find any record of the marriage. Apparently it never happened.”

“Her parents?”

“My grandfather died when she was young. Her mother disowned her when she married a musician. In later years she and Grandma made peace.”

“Is she still alive?”

“No. She died five years ago.”

“How did your mom manage after you were born?”

“She refused to give up on me. She kept trying to find a pediatric surgeon, then suddenly one appeared. She didn't have any money, but she vowed to pay the bills if it took the rest of her life. She made several payments, then suddenly no more bills were sent. She asked, and the hospital business office said someone had paid the bills. An anonymous donor.”

Leigh was silent, thinking. An unwelcome thought knocked on a mental door. She tried to dismiss it.

“How did she provide for you?”

“She moved in with another single mother. They both worked several jobs, each taking care of the children when the other wasn't there. Mom graduated from high school, but she couldn't get much of a job, especially with me. So she started cleaning houses. Eventually she took night college courses and started her own cleaning business.

“She would take me along when she could, and later I would help out.” She continued, “So we spent a lot of time together.”

Kira's eyes started to close.

“I'm going to go to bed now,” Leigh said. “Good night.”

“G'night. And thanks for seeing Mom.”

“You're welcome,” Leigh said as she picked up the few garments she'd selected and turned out the light.

Restless, she prowled through the house, taking note of what was left after the burglary. She realized she had accepted the fact that she was Katy Douglas's daughter, and now she wanted to know everything she could about her.

She thought about the recent events. The one thing she didn't believe was that Max was responsible. Neither was Seth or David.

Someone took care of the hospital bills when Kira was born. They would have been enormous. She didn't like thinking the thought that hammered at her. Uncle Mike was the kindest man she knew. He attended her when she was born. He had mentioned that several times.

If it was possible … if he did switch babies, he couldn't have anything to do with what was happening now. He was someplace in Africa, Senegal, she thought.

Or was he?

Max had known instantly that something had changed between Burke and himself at the hospital. It obviously had to do with the phone call.

So he wasn't surprised when he reached home to see police cars there. The guards at the gate apologized. “We thought we had to let them in,” one said.

“Did they have a warrant?”

“No, sir, but …”

“You were right to let them in,” he said. “When did the media leave?”

“An hour ago.”

“Okay. Has Ms. Howard returned?”

“No, sir.”

He nodded and drove through to his house. He remembered the time Ed had given him the keys to the house. It meant he was family. He could have bought nearly any house he wanted. A sleek condo downtown, a minimansion in horse country. But this was home. The only one he'd ever had.

He locked his car and walked to where detectives waited on the porch. They were not the same ones who had been visited him earlier.

“Mr. Payton?”

“Yes.”

“We would like to talk to you.”

“Come in.”

“We would prefer you come down to the station.”

“I prefer to stay here unless you have a warrant.”

They glanced at each other and nodded.

He led the way inside to the living room. He'd redone it in masculine browns and tans. The furniture was all leather and bought for comfort. He headed toward his favorite easy chair and waved his arm toward the sofa and other chairs. “Sit anywhere you please,” he said, knowing in that one act he'd gained control. They knew it, too.

So they threw the question right at him. “Does the bar association know that you've killed before?”

34

Although he had expected it, Max's stomach churned when he saw the police waiting for him at his house.

After the look in Chris's eyes, he'd realized someone had found something. But maybe it was time. Maybe he had learned from Leigh you couldn't hide forever.

There should have been no records, though the story had been in all the papers. He'd believed, hoped, that he'd built enough walls to hide his secrets.

The detectives didn't mince words. “We ran a background check on all the people connected with the Westerfields,” one said. “Yours started at Georgia State. We couldn't find a Maxwell Payton before that. Georgia State had a high school transcript, but one of our people acted on a hunch and decided to check on it. Lo and behold, the school burned down, and all its records along with it. Yet one apparently survived. Yours.”

“Really?” he observed. “Your point?”

“It interested us. We had someone check your car for fingerprints when you were at the hospital. We had an interesting match. Joe Cantwell. A runaway who' disappeared from a foster home thirty years ago.”

“So?”

“He was in foster care after killing his father.”

“Did you read the complete file?” Max asked.

“Not yet. It's not computerized. They're faxing us copies.”

There was no sense in lying or avoiding the past. It would all come out now. “You will find I was ten. My father went after my mom with a knife. I shot him to keep him from killing her. He died. I didn't mourn him.”

“Why change your name?”

“I hated it. So did my mother. She suffered every day she was married to him. After he was killed, I was sent to a group home, then a series of foster homes. I didn't do well. I didn't like the rules, and they didn't like me, so I took off when I was sixteen. I adopted another name because too many people remembered the story. I made it legal at twenty-one.”

“What about your mother?”

“She died eight days after my father attacked her.”

“Did Westerfield know your background?”

“Yes. In fact he helped me change my name legally.”

“You have access to the gun safe?” the other detective said, changing the subject.

“Yes. I told the other detectives that I inventoried them after Mr. Westerfield's death. That was the last time I checked.”

“And you don't know anyone else who might have the combination.”

“No.” God, he was tired of answering the questions over and over again.

“And you know firearms?”

“We went over this before, too. Yes. I went hunting a couple of times with Mr. Westerfield. He loved hunting. I didn't.”

The older detective's eyes bored into him. “You don't have an alibi for the city hall shooting.”

“But I do for the attempted murder of Mrs. Douglas and the attempt on Kira's life.”

“You could have hired someone.”

Max knew that only a fool represented himself. But he also thought things would be worse if he didn't cooperate. So much for not saying anything.

“I could have, but I didn't. And there's no reason to do so. I don't need money. I've made a lot of money in the past ten years and invested it. You can have the account numbers.”

“We'll also want to look at the trust records.”

“Anytime,” Max said. “You'll find them in great shape.”

“Do you mind if we look around?”

“No.” He did, but he also knew that one could call and get a warrant within moments. Better to cooperate.

Two hours later the detectives left. He wasn't sure whether he was a person of interest or not, whether he would see his past in the newspaper tomorrow.

And whether Kira and Leigh would ever look at him the same way again.

Kira woke to sunlight streaming in the window. She turned and her side ached. Maybe a bit less, but not much.

The pain brought back all that had happened yesterday.

Leigh. Leigh was here somewhere.

What time was it? What time had she gone to sleep last night? Had anything happened?

She tried to stir herself.

Her body felt leaden.

She managed to turn and look at the clock. Eight a.m.

Kira forced herself to sit up. Her head pounded. She looked down and saw that her shirt was red where it touched the bandage. She needed another pain pill, but she couldn't afford to feel fuzzy.

Maybe coffee would help.

She found a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt. She felt dizzy as she pulled on the clothes and had to sit down again.

Max
. Where was Max? And Chris? She stood again and went to the window. The car from last night was still there. So the whole nightmare was real.

Max a person of interest? A suspect?

She went downstairs. Leigh was at the kitchen table reading the paper. She was wearing the same clothes from the night earlier. She looked up. “I made coffee and got the paper from outside. I hope you don't mind.”