скачать книгу бесплатно
Next, she googled “Lily Michaels,” something she hadn’t been able to bear to do since she got the news. The page filled with hit after hit. She clicked on the link from the Baltimore Sun to see a picture of beautiful, smiling Lily next to the headline “Baltimore Heiress Bludgeoned to Death in Her Home.” She scanned the article, which included a statement from the police department. They were considering a wide range of suspects, it said. From research she’d done for her books, she knew the husband was always the first suspect. The police would be digging into every area of Harrison’s life, and if they found even one shred of evidence that he had a motive to kill Lily, they’d latch on to him with the ferocity of a feral dog. He and Lily had always seemed happy to Blaire, but a lot could change in fifteen years.
Scrolling farther, she came to the obituary. It was a big article. Prominent. Just like Lily had been. It mentioned her charity work, her foundation, and all the wonderful ways she’d contributed to her community. Blaire felt a stab at her heart when she read that Lily was survived by one daughter and a granddaughter. She thought back to her senior year in college. Kate had been seeing Simon for a few months, and suddenly had less and less time for Blaire. It had been a Friday night when she’d gotten a call from Harrison asking if she knew how to reach Kate, who wasn’t in her off-campus apartment or answering her cell phone.
“Is everything okay?” she’d asked.
“Lily had a minor car accident,” Harrison had said.
“Oh no! What happened?”
“Someone rear-ended her. She has mild whiplash and a broken wrist. I’m on call tomorrow and was hoping Kate could fly down and help out over the weekend.”
“Kate’s probably already gone. She told me that she and Simon were going skiing in Stowe.”
A sharp intake of breath had come over the line. “I see.”
“What if I come?” she’d said impulsively. “I can catch an early train from Penn Station and be there by nine.”
“Blaire, that’s such a kind offer. Thank you.”
She’d heard the relief in his voice. So she’d gone and taken care of Lily, and it turned out to be one of the nicest weekends she could remember. Just Lily and Blaire, talking, watching old movies, playing Scrabble.
Lily had hugged her tight and smiled widely, her eyes crinkling. She’d put her hand on Blaire’s cheek. “Blaire, darling, I can’t thank you enough. How lucky I am, to have not only one daughter but two.”
Yes, Kate had lost her mother, and it was terrible, Blaire thought. But Blaire had lost her too—not once but twice.
5 (#ulink_9ec29c37-381c-5116-9ab7-f7098ad84ba0)
Kate shuddered, her teeth clenched, as she got out of bed and looked at the bathroom door the next morning. She couldn’t go in there. Not yet. Not while the rotten, decaying smell of the mice still clung to her. And those horrible eyes—every time she closed hers, she saw them, the empty sockets looking back at her. She’d asked her housekeeper, Fleur, to have her things moved into one of the guest bathrooms for the time being. The police had taken it all, the dead rodents and the note, and had swept the room for evidence. If they hadn’t been sure that she was in danger after the text, the dead mice had convinced them, the concern apparent on Anderson’s face as he’d stood at the sink. He’d cautioned her and Simon to keep the details to themselves.
First the text message and now this—who was watching her, waiting to hurt her? The nursery rhyme, with its mind-numbing tune, wouldn’t stop playing in her head, over and over and over, until she wanted to scream. Did the killer have a third target in mind? And if so, who? Simon? Her father? Or, she shuddered to think, Annabelle? And what kind of charmed life was she supposedly running after, anyway? She’d worked her butt off to get into med school and to ace the MCATs. After medical school, she’d spent nearly five years in residency and another two years in a cardio fellowship. Kate had committed her life to saving others’ lives. And her mother had been a generous philanthropist and advocate for women, admired by the community—except, it was now clear, by whoever was sending these notes.
As a precaution, Simon had hired private security. He’d done some architectural work last year for BCT Protection Services, a security firm in Washington, DC. He’d called his contact there, and there were now two guards stationed outside the house and two inside—one off the hallway in the small study, monitoring the premises via computer fed by the outside cameras, and the other doing hourly rounds of the first floor. The police had offered to station a car outside her house, but Simon had convinced Kate that they’d be better off with BCT, who could be on twenty-four hours a day. Anderson had told them that the size and scope of their property would make it a challenge to secure, especially with the huge expanse of woods adjacent to their thirty-five acres, but BCT had assured him they were up to the task.
Kate walked nervously down the hall to the guest bathroom, her robe tightly drawn around her. It was terrifying to think that the killer had been able to slip into her bathroom undetected in the space of a few hours. Granted, the house had been full of people during the reception, but that didn’t make it better. The police and the security team had both done full checks of the house when they’d shown up, but she couldn’t shake the idea that they’d somehow missed something, that whoever had left the mice was in her house right now, hiding somewhere, lurking behind a closed door, listening.
She’d spent the morning in bed, and now she only had a few minutes to get dressed for the reading of her mother’s will, which was scheduled for ten o’clock that morning at Gordon’s office. They’d considered canceling after the threats but decided it was better to get it over with. When she walked into the kitchen in the simple gray sheath she’d chosen, Simon was reading the paper. Her father sat at the table playing Old Maid with Annabelle. He hadn’t gone back to his house since that terrible night, staying instead at the waterfront condo in downtown Baltimore that he and Lily had bought last year as a weekend retreat. Annabelle looked up from her cards and jumped down from her chair. “Mommy!”
Kate gathered her daughter into her arms, inhaling the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo. “Good morning, sunshine. Who’s winning?”
“Me!” she shouted and ran back to the table.
Kate followed her daughter to the table to lean down and give her father a kiss on the cheek, noticing again the gray cast to his skin and the dullness in his eyes.
“Good morning,” Simon said, closing the paper and setting it on the table in front of him and rising. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great.”
“Coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He poured a cup of French roast and handed it to her, but as she took it, her fingers trembled so badly that it crashed to the floor. Kate looked at the mess at her feet and burst into tears. At the sight of her mother’s agitation, Annabelle began to cry too.
“Oh, sweetheart. It’s all right. Mommy’s all right,” Kate said, hugging Annabelle until she calmed down.
“Kate, you need to eat something,” Simon said, stooping to wipe up the coffee and carefully pick up the pieces of china.
She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I can’t.”
He stood, holding the broken shards in his hand, and gave Harrison a look, but neither man argued with her.
“Will you ask Hilda if she’s ready? And remind her to bring some things to keep Annabelle occupied while we’re at Gordon’s.”
“Are you sure you want to bring Annabelle? Wouldn’t she be better off here?” Simon asked gently. His eyes were pleading, and she wondered if he was trying to seem like a protector again, a husband she would want to stay with after all. In a way, she was touched by his attentiveness. It almost seemed like the way things used to be.
Though she knew that Simon was probably right, that Annabelle would be just as safe, or even safer, at home with all the protection they’d hired, Kate just needed to have her daughter near her for the time being. She walked out of Annabelle’s earshot. “Her grandmother has just died,” she whispered, though the words sounded as if they couldn’t possibly be true. “Annabelle is sad even though she doesn’t completely understand. She sees the police here, the security people. She’s just a child, but she knows that something is not right. I want her with me.”
“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he said. “I’ll tell Hilda we’re ready to go.”
They got in the car and Kate realized she’d switched purses. She turned to Simon.
“Hold on. I need to go get my EpiPen in case we decide to grab a bite to eat afterward.” Her peanut allergy necessitated that she always have it with her. Once they were on the road, Annabelle’s chatter from the back seat was nonstop. When they pulled into the underground parking lot, Annabelle oohed and giggled at the sudden darkness, and Kate turned and smiled at her innocent joy.
Kate had gotten pregnant by accident in her first year of practice. She and Simon had been on the fence about having children. With two demanding careers, they didn’t think it was fair. When they found out she was pregnant, though, they were both elated. She remembered lying on the exam table for the ultrasound, Simon in a chair at her side, while her doctor smeared the gel onto her belly and moved the probe across her abdomen. “Here’s the heartbeat,” the doctor said, and they’d looked at each other in wonderment. And once Annabelle was born, they couldn’t image their lives without her.
Now Kate looked over at Simon’s profile as he parked, and despite everything that had happened between them, felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch him. She loved Simon, or at least she had until the last few months. She’d met him in a philosophy class senior fall, when she was still in the grips of grief. She’d gone through that first semester after Jake’s death in a fog, and Simon had been a good friend, helping her through her heartbreak. Then one day, he’d become more.
Simon was so different from Jake. He was a dark-haired heartthrob whose movie-star looks assured that he could get just about any girl he wanted, while Jake had possessed a combination of quiet confidence and fine intelligence. He’d never been one to draw attention to himself, whereas you couldn’t help but notice Simon. Kate had initially dismissed Simon as a pretty boy. But she eventually saw there was more to him than his looks. Simon had made the class fun. His wit infused the discussions with just the right note of irreverence to keep the talk lively, and when he invited her to join his study group, she found herself looking forward to seeing him, her feelings shifting subtly as the term progressed.
She had surprised herself when she said yes to his proposal after graduation, the word coming out before she realized it had. But then, she’d thought, it would be good. He made her forget what she couldn’t have. Together they’d forge a good life, their differences complementing one another. And wasn’t that better than being with someone too much like you? Surely that would get boring. Her parents had thought the engagement was too fast at first, as she’d been dating him for less than a year and, they pointed out, still had four years of medical school at Johns Hopkins. But in the end, they’d supported her, probably because they were just glad to see her happy again.
There had been a few times before Annabelle was born that Kate wondered if she’d made the right decision. On the day of her wedding, Blaire’s angry words had echoed in her mind, and she wondered if she was just marrying Simon on the rebound. But Jake was gone. She allowed herself a fleeting moment to wish it was him waiting for her on the altar, and then pushed him out of her mind. After all, she did love Simon.
A loud horn made her look up as the five of them walked across Pratt Street to the offices of Barton and Rothman, a downtown Baltimore landmark of steel and glass that resembled a pyramid made from Lego blocks. Barton and Rothman went back to the days when Kate’s great-great-grandfather Evans founded his real estate firm, which had grown into an empire, and Gordon’s great-great-grandfather had invested and managed the money. From that day to this, their families had been intertwined, and her family’s money had been in his family’s capable hands. Gordon, who was a partner now, was an astute and shrewd investor, but unfortunately he had failed to inherit the charm or appeal of his forebears.
She shivered as the wind kicked up, pulling Annabelle closer to her as she adjusted her daughter’s wool hat. The sidewalks were crowded with people—office workers, the men in suits and heavy overcoats, the women in stylish hooded parkas. There were sightseers in bulky down jackets strolling around the Inner Harbor, where Christmas decorations blazed from every store window. Kate found herself searching faces again, looking for anyone who seemed suspicious, someone who might be watching her. The muscles in her face were tight, her whole body on full alert.
As soon as they entered the building, Annabelle skipped to the elevator bank. “Can I push the button?” she asked, hopping up and down.
“Of course,” Kate said.
On the twenty-fourth floor, the elevator doors opened to the reception area of Barton and Rothman, the financial planning and advising firm. Sylvia, who’d been with the firm for as long as Kate could remember, rose from her chair behind the reception desk to greet them.
“Dr. Michaels, Kate, Simon,” she said. “Gordon is waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” Harrison said.
Kate hung back a moment. “Sylvia, do you have an empty conference room or office where my daughter and our nanny might sit while we meet?”
“Certainly. I’ll settle them in. You know the way to Gordon’s office,” she said and led Hilda and Annabelle down the hall in the other direction.
Gordon stood at his office door. “Good morning. Come in,” he said, shaking Harrison’s hand, giving Simon a curt nod, and then reaching out to Kate. His hand felt puffy and moist as it wrapped over hers, but as she attempted to pull it away, his fingers closed more tightly around hers, and he leaned forward to try and give her a hug. She took a breath, pulling away from him, and seated herself in one of the three leather chairs in front of his desk.
“Would you like coffee or tea?” Gordon asked, not taking his eyes off Kate.
Harrison cleared his throat. “No, thank you. Let’s get this over with quickly.”
Gordon walked back to his desk, bowed slightly, and pulled at the bottom of his vest before sitting down. Simon had always said that Gordon was pompous, but Kate knew he also grudgingly respected his brilliance at financial management.
“It is a very sad task we have before us today,” Gordon began, and Kate sighed, waiting for him to get on with it. He always managed to sound like he’d fallen straight off the pages of Bleak House.
“As I’m sure you know, Harrison, your wife’s will states very clearly that half of her estate goes to your daughter, and a portion of that in trust for your granddaughter.”
Harrison nodded. “Yes, of course. I was here with Lily when she made that provision.”
Kate looked at her father. “I don’t think it’s right,” she objected. “It should just be the trust for Annabelle. The rest should go to you.” Kate didn’t think she and Simon needed the money. They had plenty of income between their salaries and Kate’s trust, and her parents had given them a very generous check that allowed them to buy the land and build their own home.
“No, Kate. This is what your mother wanted. Her parents’ estate was handled the same way. I don’t care about the money. I just wish she were still here …” His voice broke.
“Still—” she began, but Simon interrupted her.
“I agree with your father. If that’s what she wanted, we need to respect that.”
A look crossed Harrison’s face, and Kate thought she read annoyance in his eyes. Simon’s interjection irritated her too. It wasn’t his place to say anything, really.
“I must agree with Simon on this,” Gordon said, and Kate cocked her head, knowing how much he must have hated to agree with Simon on anything. “The estate is quite sizable. Thirty million to Harrison and thirty million to you, Kate, with ten of that put aside in a trust for Annabelle.” Kate had known the number would be considerable, but she was still surprised by it. This new inheritance would be in addition to the millions that her grandmother had left her when she’d died. A good portion of that money had been used to create the Children’s Heart Foundation, which provided free cardiac care to children who didn’t have insurance. The foundation took care of all of the kids’ medical expenses, along with housing for the parents while the children were in the hospital. Kate and Harrison, also a pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon, saw patients from all over the country, and the foundation allowed them to dedicate a significant amount of their practice to pro bono work.
Kate leaned forward in her chair. “I want to put some of the money into the trust for the foundation,” she said to Gordon. “Will you set up a meeting with Charles Hammersmith at the trust and our attorney to discuss it?”
“Of course. I’ll get right on it,” Gordon said.
Simon cleared his throat. “Maybe we should take some time to think about how much should go into the foundation before we meet with them.”
Gordon looked from Kate to Simon and back to Kate again, his eyes resting on her for an answer.
“Why don’t you go ahead and set up the meeting, Gordon?” She turned to Simon and gave him a tight smile. “We have time to discuss it later,” she said.
Gordon clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “I’m not sure how to bring this up, except to just tell you.” He took a dramatic pause as they all looked at him expectantly.
“What is it?” Harrison asked.
“I received a phone call from Lily.” Again he paused. “It was the day before she … ahem … anyway, she asked me to keep it confidential, but now that she’s gone … well, she wanted to come in and make changes to her will.”
“What?” both Harrison and Kate said at the same time.
Gordon nodded somberly. “I’m assuming, then, that you knew nothing about this?”
Kate looked at her father. His face had paled.
“No, nothing. Are you sure that’s what she wanted to meet with you about?”
“Quite sure. She specified that she wanted a notary available. I had to mention this to the police, of course. I wanted you to know.”
Harrison stood up, moving closer to where Gordon was sitting. “What exactly did my wife say?”
Color rose to Gordon’s cheeks. “I told you. That she wanted to change her will. The last thing she said before we hung up was, ‘I’d appreciate your keeping this between us.’”
Kate looked at her father again, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression was inscrutable.
“Is there anything else, or can we go?” Harrison asked, his voice tight.
“Just a few more things to sign,” Gordon answered.
After the papers were signed, the meeting ended, and Gordon came around from behind his desk, once again taking Kate’s hands in his.
“If there is anything, anything at all, I can do for you, please call me.” He let go of her hands and pulled her to him in a stiff hug. There had always been such awkwardness to Gordon, from the time they’d been children together.
As a child, he’d had few friends, and that continued throughout his teen years. Kate wasn’t sure that he’d ever had a girlfriend, certainly not when they were young. He had always been odd, eschewing jeans for checkered or printed golf pants along with starched shirts and bow ties when he wasn’t in his school uniform. Although she never felt completely comfortable around him, she also never failed to defend Gordon when others made fun of him, so while she had never thought of Gordon as one of her friends, because of their parents’ long-standing relationship, they’d been thrown together frequently growing up.
Once, at the Bartons’ annual New Year’s Day open house, when Gordon had just turned fourteen and Kate was almost thirteen, he’d cornered her.
The party was well under way when Gordon said, “This is boring. Come on. I’ll show you something interesting.”
“I don’t think so. Maybe another time.” As she edged away, he moved closer to her.
“Come on. You’ll like this. I promise.”
“I’ll like what?”
“My new art project. I’ve been working on it for months. Follow me.” He reached for her hand, but Kate clasped her hands together as he led the way out of the room.
She followed him to a wing of the large house where she’d never been before. After leading her down a long corridor, he stopped in front of a closed door and turned to her. “Mother gave this room to me for Christmas,” he said. “For my art projects.”
He pulled a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. Kate ran her tongue across her upper lip and tasted salty perspiration. The door opened, and Gordon flipped the switch. Soft light filled the room, making the small space look warm and cozy. The walls were painted dark red and covered in large black-and-white photographs of old downtown row houses.
“Did you take these?” Kate asked, moving closer to one of the framed images.
“Yeah, a while ago. But I want to show you what I’m working on now.”
He pushed a button on the wall and then went to stand behind a metal desk where a computer and projector sat. Kate turned to look as a film screen rolled down.
“I’m going to dim the light,” he said, turning on the projector.
Black-and-white images of houses appeared on the screen as the film opened, and then the camera focused on one house alone, slowly moving in closer until she could see the occupants. A thin blond woman sat on a sofa watching TV while two young children sat on the floor playing some kind of game. The camera then withdrew, and another house came into focus. The camera again moved in for a closer look at two women sitting at a kitchen table, while another one stood at the sink washing dishes. The film went on moving from house to house, recording the activities of the occupants. When at last it finished, Gordon switched off the projector and turned the light on.
Kate was stunned.
“Well, how do you like it? I’ve been working on it for months. I’m calling it ‘Contemporary Mundanity,’” Gordon said. He’d been positively beaming.
