Next of Kin (42 page)

‘What happened?’

‘He came to find out about the file.’ She dipped her head as she looked at him. ‘Your file.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. When I first saw him, I thought he was going to kill me. He had a knife, and a look in his eye that seemed to have no mercy. He didn’t
kill me, though, as you can tell. He said that if I told him what he wanted to know, he’d even help me. He told me he knew where my daughter was.’

‘How did he find her?’

‘He said he convinced the head of the agency that handled the adoption to give him the information.’

‘I’m guessing he could be pretty persuasive,’ Finn said.

She didn’t respond.

‘So, what happened?’ Finn asked.

She shrugged. ‘His information checked out, right down to the birth certificate. So I told him what he wanted to know.’

‘Which was?’

‘He wanted to know about you. He wanted to know about Elizabeth Connor. I told him what I found. When I was done, he told me to leave. He told me that people would be looking for me, and
if they found out that I was alive, they would kill me. He told me where my daughter was and he gave me three minutes to pack. I tore through everything in my closets.’

‘And the bloody handprint on the bed?’

Shelly Tesco smiled shyly. ‘That was my fault. I was in such a hurry as I was packing that I slammed my finger in the dresser drawer. It bled like you wouldn’t believe, but I just
wrapped it in a towel, got in the car and took off. He gave me some money.’

‘How did you know that you could come back?’

‘He told me to watch the news, read the papers. He said it would be obvious when things had come to a head. As long as I stayed away until that happened, he said I’d be fine.
I’m still leaving though. It doesn’t feel safe here anymore. Even if it wasn’t for my daughter, I think I would want to get away.’ She got up and poured what was left of her
coffee into the sink. ‘I need to leave,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else you want to know?’

Finn looked at her. ‘Do you still have my file?’

She was still and silent for a moment. Then she nodded slightly.

‘He didn’t take it with him?’

‘He said he had no use for it,’ she said. ‘He said you might come looking for it, and that I should give it to you.’

‘Will you do that?’ he asked. ‘And will you explain what it all means?’

She nodded again. ‘You deserve that, at least. Let me go get it.’

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

It was seven o’clock by the time Finn got back to Boston. He called Kozlowski and Lissa to tell them he was going to be later than he anticipated. They demanded to know
what was happening, but he refused to say. ‘I need to deal with this myself,’ was the most he would offer. Lissa cursed a blue streak at him, but there was nothing she could do.
Kozlowski said little over the phone. ‘I’m here if you need backup,’ was the extent of it. Finn told him he would keep that in mind.

It was almost November, and by the time Finn pulled across the Longfellow Bridge from Cambridge into Boston, night had fallen. The days would continue getting shorter for another two months.
Finn found it depressing.

He guided the car around the traffic circle where Cambridge Street joins with Charles and spins off onto Storrow Drive. A group of homeless was gathered around the pharmacy across the street
from Massachusetts General Hospital. It affected Finn to see such a pocket of poverty so close to one of the richest neighborhoods in the country.

He drove down Charles Street, past the bars and four-star restaurants. Halfway to Beacon Street and Boston Common, he turned left and headed two blocks up the hill to Louisburg Square.

The news crews that had staked out the house for most of the day had packed up and moved on, like vultures grown tired of a carcass picked clean. All that was left was the profusion of cardboard
coffee cups and cigarette butts that were scattered around the Square. It looked as though an early snow had hit the area.

The police tape was gone, and the house had been, for the most part, restored to order. In all likelihood the office upstairs where the senator had actually been killed was still closed off, but
with three witnesses to the killing it was unlikely that it would stay that way for long. After all, there was no mystery as to what happened as far as the authorities were concerned. There might
be political fallout from Buchanan’s connection to McDougal, but now that they were both dead, there was no one toward whom the press could direct a righteous anger. Notwithstanding the need
for the twenty-four-hour news stations to feed off tragedy, the story would die as soon as another scandal came around. In a country so prone to violence, Finn figured that wouldn’t take
long.

He walked up the front steps, rang the doorbell. No one answered. After a moment he rang again. It wasn’t until the third ring that there was any sign of life within the house. A voice
called out, ‘Leave us alone!’

‘It’s Scott Finn!’ he shouted back.

He heard shuffling behind the door. It cracked open. Brooke Buchanan looked at him, frowning. ‘I thought the newspeople had come back,’ she said. It was not an apology; she
didn’t seem much happier that it was Finn. ‘I told you, I’m not ready to deal with this,’ she said.

‘I’m not looking for you to be my sister right now,’ Finn said. ‘I have some questions I need to ask you.’

‘About what?’

He hesitated. He had no desire to talk to her on the steps of the house. ‘Can I come in?’

She frowned even more deeply, regarding him with suspicion.

‘It’s important,’ he said.

She relented and opened the door, stepping back to let him in. They stood there in the foyer, staring at each other. ‘Well?’ she demanded.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t mean to put you out, but I’ve been driving all day. Is there any chance I could have a glass of water?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Come with me.’ She led him back to the kitchen, pulled out a glass, filled it with tap water. ‘It’s been a really shitty couple of days,’ she
said to him.

‘For me, too,’ he agreed. At that, her attitude softened. He took a long drink of the water, considering how to approach the young woman.

She started the conversation. ‘So? What’s so important that you needed to talk to me tonight?’

‘I wanted to know about the tests the police used to prove that you and I have the same father. Did you go in to the police to give them the DNA to test?’ Finn asked.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I did.’

‘Whose idea was it?’

She stared at him. ‘I don’t understand what you’re asking.’

‘I mean the DNA tests – were they your idea, or were they the police’s idea?’

She shook her head. ‘It was their idea. At the time, I didn’t even know they thought we might have the same father. All I knew was that my father was mixed up in something bad, and
he was hurting my mother.’ Her face darkened at the memory. ‘I hated him,’ she said. ‘I think I always hated him. I wanted to do whatever I could to help the
police.’

‘So when they suggested the DNA test might help, you jumped at the chance?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘How did they gather the DNA?’

‘What does it matter?’ She demanded. Finn could tell the questions were unsettling her, but he pressed on.

‘Just tell me, please.’

‘They took my blood,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘And you saw them put it in a vial, mark it with your name?’

‘Yes, I did. I was curious about the process – I asked them how it was done and how long it would take. What has this got to do with anything?’

Finn ignored the question, ‘I assume your father didn’t know you were going to the police?’

‘God, no. He would have killed me, I think.’

‘Did you tell your mother?’

She shook her head. ‘She couldn’t seem to let go of my father, no matter what he did to her, no matter how awful things were. She would have tried to stop me. She might have even
told my father.’

‘Did you tell either of your parents what you’d done when you got back from the police station?’

She nodded slowly. ‘I told my mother.’ Worry was beginning to break over her face. ‘I wanted to show her that we could take a stand against him – against my
father.’

‘Did you tell her about the DNA test?’

‘Yes.’ She was white now.

‘How did she react?’

‘Badly.’ Brooke looked so confused and scared, Finn felt sorry for her, but he couldn’t stop now. ‘Why does it matter? Why are you asking me these questions?’

‘Because I’m still trying to figure out what really happened to my mother. What did your mother say when you told her about the DNA test they were going to run?’

She took a deep breath. ‘She screamed at me. She told me that I was going to destroy the family. That I was going to ruin everything.’

‘Did you understand what she meant by that?’

‘Of course I did.’ She fidgeted, leaned down on the granite island, the tears flowing freely. ‘Look at what’s happened since then.’

Finn reached out and put a hand on her back. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I just needed to know.’

‘Know what?’ Brooke asked. Her voice was raised, almost desperate. ‘What did I tell you that could possibly change anything? What did you come here to get from me?’

Finn started to answer, but someone else spoke before he could open his mouth. The voice came from across the room, from the entrance to the kitchen. ‘Yes, Mr Finn, what did you come here
to get from us?’

Finn and Brooke spun around to see Catherine Buchanan standing at the door. She was calm, composed, perhaps a little weary. The bruises were still evident on her face and neck; she no longer
covered them. Finn supposed that was understandable. ‘I came here to try to make sense of it all.’

‘And have you done that now? Does it all make sense to you now?’

He nodded. ‘I think it does.’

Catherine looked at her daughter. ‘Sweetheart, I need to talk to Mr Finn alone.’

Brooke shook her head. ‘No,’ she was weeping openly. ‘I don’t understand, I’m not leaving.’

‘Please, dearest,’ her mother said. ‘Everything is fine. I will explain it all to you later, but for the moment, I need to talk to him by myself.’ She lifted up her
daughter’s face, kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll be up in a little while, and we can talk.’

Brooke shook her head, but moved toward the door that led to the stairway. She looked back, and her mother gave a wave that one might give to a kindergartener on her way in to her first day of
school. ‘Everything will be fine,’ her mother repeated.

Once Brooke had left the room, Catherine looked at Finn. ‘I’m guessing you have some questions for me, haven’t you?’

She led Finn into her room – the sun room splashed with yellow florals. It was dark out, but it was still the most cheerful room in the house. As she walked through the
other rooms, she’d said, ‘We’ll have to sell the house, of course.’ There was an air of resignation about her. ‘It’s not financial; my husband had more money
then anyone could imagine.’ She paused in realization. ‘I suppose that means that I now have more money than anyone can imagine.’ The thought seemed to surprise her, but she
didn’t pursue it. ‘In any event, I can’t imagine staying here now. Not with all the terrible memories.’

‘Like the memory of your husband being killed here?’ Finn asked.

She looked at him with a tired expression. ‘Among many others.’ She sat in a low chair with bamboo arms and overstuffed pillows with hand-painted pictures of orchids on them. In
another setting, Finn would have found them overdone, but they fit the room, and came off as subtler than they might have. She invited Finn to sit across from her. ‘How much do you know, Mr
Finn?’

Finn leaned forward. ‘I know that your husband was not my father,’ he said.

She took the news without any visible reaction. ‘How do you know that?’ she asked.

‘He came to visit me two days ago. He asked me to leave all of this alone.’ Finn gave an ironic laugh. ‘Maybe we would all have been better off if I’d listened to him. He
told me that I was not his son.’

‘Well,’ Catherine Buchanan said, ‘that’s what you would expect him to say, isn’t it?’

Finn nodded. ‘It was, and I didn’t believe him.’ He stood, paced as he spoke. ‘I had his DNA tested against mine.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Did you? How did you accomplish that?’

‘When your husband came to my office, he drank a glass of water. That leaves a residue of saliva on the glass that contains cells from the inside of the mouth. Testing the DNA of those
cells is actually a simple process.’

‘You’re very resourceful,’ she said. There was no sarcasm in her voice.

‘I almost didn’t bother to run the tests. The police told me they were running the DNA tests between me and Brooke; normally that would have seemed like enough.’

‘Not in this case, though.’

‘No. Not in this case. I didn’t trust the police,’ Finn said. ‘I thought they might try to protect your husband. Cover for him. He’s a very powerful man with plenty
of connections. I figured they might just tell me there was no match without even running the tests, if only to get me to back off.’

‘They ran the tests, though,’ Catherine Buchanan said.

‘They did,’ Finn agreed. ‘They told me the test came back positive. Which was why I was so surprised this morning when the lab that I used to test your husband’s DNA
called me up to tell me there was no match. There is no chance that James Buchanan was my father.’

‘So,’ Catherine Buchanan said pensively. ‘What do you think? Did the police falsify their tests? Were they trying to frame my husband?’

Finn shook his head. ‘The test that the police ran was to match my DNA with Brooke’s. They wanted to prove that your husband was my father by showing that Brooke and I were siblings.
When the test came back positive,
voilà
, they thought they had what they needed. No one considered any other possibility. But Brooke and I don’t have the same father.’ He
looked hard at her. ‘We have the same mother.’

CHAPTER FIFTY

Catherine Buchanan looked at him for a very long time. She didn’t try to avoid his eyes; she stared straight at him, saying nothing. At last, very quietly and without
conviction, she said, ‘You don’t know that.’