* * *
“Edwina said I would probably find you up here.”
Maggie spun around at the sound of Kane’s voice. The same cold mask as she’d seen earlier on the ride back from Nashville carved his features in hardness. She had nothing else to say to him. Saying she was sorry wasn’t what he wanted to hear and at this point would do nothing to melt his anger.
His mouth tightened. “There were other papers in the leather pouch. Have you looked at them yet?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t thought about anything except the birth certificate and what it meant to her.
“Then we should look at them in case there’s any evidence that might point to who killed Henry.” His gaze narrowed slightly on her. “Of course, you can do it alone if you think there’s anything else you want to hide that might be revealed.”
Her heart bled at his harsh words. “There isn’t anything.” She gestured to where the pouch lay. “You can take a look.”
He stepped to the kitchen table and flinched as he touched the birth certificate. Quickly he moved it to the side and perused the next paper.
Maggie looked at Kane, his neck bent forward as he read the document. Hold me. Tell me I’m not anything like Henry. She pressed her folded arms to her, but nothing she did warmed her. “What does it say?”
He didn’t answer right away, and Maggie started to move toward him when Kane lifted his gaze to hers.
“This is Henry’s account of what really happened the night that Dr. Johnson and his wife died in the house fire. And he says that if anything happens to him that is suspicious for you to take this to the police. He accuses Phillip Johnson of killing his father and mother.”
“What?” Maggie covered the distance between them and took the paper. “Phillip’s father was a mean drunk who abused his son when he was drinking. Phillip had told Henry how much he hated his parents. He took care of the problem by burning down the house. Henry states that his friend didn’t show up at his house until thirty minutes after the fire, although Henry had told the police he’d been there all night,” she said, stunned that a thirteen-year-old could kill his parents.
“There’s more.” Kane read another sheet Henry penned. “There are records of injuries to Phillip as a child. An old audiotape of Phillip talking about his father and how much he hated him. Also, Henry says on the tape there’s a place where Phillip dreams of getting rid of his father and how he would do it—dousing him in alcohol and lighting him up. Henry hadn’t thought Phillip was the arsonist because he was supposedly spying on his love interest at a girlfriend’s sleepover and his dad hadn’t died like Phillip had envisioned. So, when his friend begged him to tell the police he was there the whole evening, Henry did. Later, though, he began to think Phillip was the murderer.”
Maggie looked down at the pouch and saw several photos of two young boys, some the same ones as she saw on the flash drive. Flipping through them, she sucked in a deep breath. “These are pictures of a boy acting as though he was setting another on fire up to the point of actually doing it. I think it’s Henry who played the dad, so I’m guessing the other child is Phillip.”
“Sick.”
That word reverberated through Maggie. That was her biological father. “Why are there photos and a tape?”
“Obviously Henry started young taking pictures of others doing unsavory things.”
The sarcasm in Kane’s voice reinforced how hopeless the whole situation was. She’d come to have deep feelings for him, and now she was destroying that.
Am I going to continuously pay for my mother’s mistake, Lord?
Tears smarted her eyes while Kane snapped open his cell and placed a call to David.
“We’ve got some evidence about not only Henry’s murder but the Johnsons’ arson case. Can you come over to Maggie’s?” Kane paused. “Yeah. The information is explosive. See you in a bit.”
Maggie strode into the living room, needing to put some distance between her and the pouch. If Dr. Johnson killed his parents and Henry, this would rip the town apart.
“David will be here in a few minutes. You need to go through the pouch and take out what doesn’t pertain to the murders.” Kane approached her, holding it out for her.
“Yes, we don’t need to have it plastered all over the newspaper about Vicky and Henry.”
“What are you going to do with that information? David will want to know why you have this and how you got it. I won’t lie to my friend, even to protect another.”
What she had been struggling with for the last couple of weeks was decided for her. “We’ll tell David I’m Henry’s daughter and about the lawyer contacting me.”
“When the news gets around, Vicky will know who you are.”
“Yes. It’ll be in her hands then. I won’t say anything about being Vicky’s daughter to David or anyone else. It isn’t important to the case.”
“Are you prepared for the press and people’s reactions?” Kane’s expression softened momentarily.
“Why do you care? It’s my problem, not yours. I’ll be safe and soon out of your hair.”
“You’re leaving Twin Oaks?”
“I’m leaving Seven Oaks. I’ll give my two weeks’ notice tomorrow at work. I can’t stay with everyone knowing I’m Henry’s daughter. He was a monster. I’ve seen your reaction to the news.”
He fisted his hands, his jaw clenching. “My reaction isn’t to that fact but to the other.”
“I can’t change either fact now—Vicky and Henry are my biological parents. Hopefully if John doesn’t know about me, their marriage will be okay.”
“So, you’re going to walk away from Kenny and Ashley? I’ve seen how you are with them.”
She loved her siblings, and that part hurt the most. “I’m sure Vicky will want that. She never wanted me in the first place so why now.” Maggie took the evidence that David needed out of the pouch and gave it to Kane.
“Vicky was a teenager. Maybe she didn’t really have a choice. Have you ever considered her in all this?”
Maggie winced. “You’re defending her?”
“Aren’t you the one who told me to forgive Ruth? That forgiveness would start me on the road to recovery. Well, if that’s good for me, then it should be for you.”
“Have you really forgiven Ruth?” Maggie put the leather pouch behind a photo of her adoptive father on the mantel behind her.
“It’s a work in progress.”
“I’m so glad you’re learning to forgive.” Because I could use it. But when she peered into Kane’s expression, she saw no forgiveness for her.
A movement by the front door drew Maggie’s attention. She strode forward. “Thanks for coming, David. You might want to take a seat while I explain how I came by this evidence.”
* * *
Friday afternoon Maggie dragged herself into the apartment building, mentally and physically exhausted with the past few days’ events. The news broke last night about her being Henry’s daughter and the recent developments in the Payne murder investigation. Today she’d learned that Dr. Phillip Johnson had been arrested for his parents’ murders as well as being the prime suspect in Henry’s murder.
Everyone in Seven Oaks was talking about the news. As predicted, it rocked the college town. Only a handful at the hospital had approached her about the evidence she’d supplied to the police, and then they hadn’t mentioned why she had it. But she heard the whispers as she’d walked down the corridors of the hospital.
Maggie plodded to Edwina’s apartment, her head pulsating against her skull almost as badly as it had with the concussion. Before she had a chance to knock, the older woman swung her door open.
“I saw you from the window.”
The look on Edwina’s face didn’t bode well for her. Her mouth pulled tightly together, and tension came off her in waves. “What’s wrong?”
“Vicky’s in the kitchen, and she’s distraught. I can usually calm her down, but I can’t this time. She’s not leav
ing until she talks to you. I’m worried about her. She looks awful.”
“I know what this is about. Is it possible for me to talk to her alone?”
“Sure. Since John isn’t home, I’ll go up to her apartment and keep an eye on the kids.”
Edwina started to leave. Maggie placed her hand on her friend’s arm and said, “Thanks for not asking the obvious question.”
“You’ll tell me when and if you need a friendly ear. You certainly don’t need any more grief, child.”
Maggie closed the door and fell back against it, trying to gather her thoughts concerning finally having the talk she should have had from the very beginning. After visiting the church and counseling with her pastor, she realized that. Secrets didn’t remain hidden forever. How had she thought she could merrily come into Vicky’s life, then go on about her way when she got the information she wanted?
Lord, I was so wrong. Please help me to right this situation. My anger drove me to do something I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.
With a deep sigh, Maggie made her way into the kitchen. When she entered, Vicky looked up, her eyes red with deep circles under them. Her haggard face firmed into a frown.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” Vicky’s hands clamped about a mug that she carefully set on the table.
Maggie eased into the chair across from her birth mother. “Because I didn’t want you to know.” She shifted her gaze to the window, bright light streaming across the tile. “You’d rejected me once. I didn’t want to give you a second chance.”
“Then why did you come to Seven Oaks? Why did you move in across the hall?” Fury laced each of Vicky’s questions and struck Maggie as if she’d been slapped.
“You mean into my father’s apartment.” Her own anger rose. She was sorry about how the situation had been handled, but she couldn’t seem to get past her anger to forgive—not when she thought of who her father was, of the pain of her childhood, the rejection she faced over and over growing up.
“I’ve had a lot of regrets and that definitely is one. Henry was a charmer.”
“Besides being a monster and my dad?”
“He wasn’t always like that. At fifteen his aunt, who he lived with, died, and he was left an orphan again. But that time there were no other relatives to take him in. He went into foster care. He began to change.”
“It seems I have something in common with my father.”
“You were adopted. I made my parents promise that would happen.”
“Which time are you talking about? My first adoptive parents were abusive and neglectful, according to the records. I was removed from their home by the state. They couldn’t put me up for adoption until all parental rights had been terminated, which meant I lived in foster homes for several years. Finally, I could be adopted by the Ridgeways when I was seven. I ended up with a great father and a mother who didn’t really want me. Isn’t that ironic? Two mothers who didn’t want me and that isn’t even counting my first adoptive mother.”
Vicky paled. “I didn’t know. I was sixteen when I had you, and I was afraid. I’d been sent away from Seven Oaks by my parents to have the baby in Louisville. They didn’t want anyone to know I had one. They were so ashamed.” Her voice caught on the last word. “I didn’t even tell Henry. It was at the beginning of the summer. I picked a fight with him and told him I wanted to date others. I hadn’t started showing yet, so I was able to go away for the summer and come back to start the school year without anyone being the wiser.”
“How did Henry find out?”
“I’m not sure. He was always so observant. He may have known I was pregnant and didn’t say anything. He never told me how he figured it out, but when he came back to Seven Oaks, he let me know he knew what I’d done all those years ago.” Vicky shivered, cupping the mug but not picking it up. “He was furious at me. I thought he would tell John, but he didn’t. I kept waiting for him to.”
“So, John doesn’t know about me?”
“No, I could never tell him. I had done something wrong, and he thought I was perfect when we met. As the years passed, it became harder to say anything. He’s a man of integrity and…”
“In other words, you were ashamed of me because your parents made you feel that way.”
“No. No.” Vicky waved her hand in the air. “I wasn’t ashamed of you. I was ashamed of myself for giving in to Henry. I reaped the repercussions.”
“No, I did.” Maggie rose. She couldn’t do this any longer. “I won’t say anything to John. It’s your place to do that, but a word of advice from your other daughter. Recently I’ve learned painfully that secrets will eat at you until they erode your moral fiber. Now if you don’t mind, I’m exhausted.”
Vicky tried to approach her, but Maggie backed away.
“Even from the grave, Henry has affected my life. I thought with his death that threat was gone.”
How many others felt that way? Obviously, Dr. Johnson had.
As Vicky turned to leave, Maggie said, “While I’m still here, I would love to see Ashley and Kenny. I won’t say anything to them about who I am. Will you allow me to?”
“Yes, they would wonder why you didn’t see them all of a sudden.”
After her birth mother disappeared into the other room, Maggie sank back against the counter, gripping its edge. I thought with his death that threat was gone.
Those words bombarded her. Did the police have the wrong person for Henry’s murder? What if it had been Vicky, trying to quiet her tormentor finally?
Was she safe as she had thought with Phillip Johnson’s arrest?
Chapter Twelve
As Maggie jogged back from the park, her sneakers striking the pavement in a rhythmic sound momentarily lulled her into a sense all was right with the world. Until flashes from the past few days intruded into her mind. Then she remembered the mess she’d made of her life. The tension—silent and menacing—in the building had eaten through any defenses she’d managed to erect.
She was falling in love with Kane, and he wanted nothing to do with her. That had become apparent yesterday when he’d looked straight through her in the foyer of the apartment building. Was she her father’s daughter—tinkering with people’s lives in order to control the situation?
Why, Lord? Why was Henry my biological father? I feel dirty. It’s bad enough I was conceived out of wedlock, but to have a monster as a father…
The very thought shook her to her core. She pushed herself harder, faster.
At least over this weekend she could avoid people. She hadn’t even gone to church with Edwina this morning. She couldn’t deal with the whispers and stares. But tomorrow she would have to go into work and face everyone. Although she sweated from her exertion, a shiver shimmied down her length, raising goose bumps.
She turned the corner to the street where Twin Oaks sat at the end. Its massive structure drew her like Lorelei enticed sailors to run their ships aground. Suddenly she came to a decision as she neared the building.
Slowing her pace, she took the steps to the porch two at a time and unlocked the door. When she entered, quiet ruled. She paused and drank in the silence, trying to draw solace from it.
At the sound of a door slamming upstairs, she jerked around toward the staircase. Heavy footsteps, as if the angry person was walking quickly, preceded John’s appearance at the top of the stairs. His gaze locked with hers and narrowed on her.
He knew. She could read it in his face, one forged with pain. For a few seconds she thought about whirling around and escaping back outside.
He stomped down the steps and homed in on her. His mouth tightened in a grim line, his eyes blazing. When he stopped in front of her, almost invading her personal space, she straightened. She deserved everything he gave her.
“Why did you come here?” But instead of rage, agony coated each word. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
She flinched. No response that would make him feel better came to mind
.
John opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut without speaking. He pivoted and hurried toward the front door. It rattled as he shut it.
Lord, I tried to avoid this. I didn’t want this. Kenny and Ashley deserved a loving family environment. Please help me fix this somehow.
She stared at the front door for a long moment, trying to figure out what to do next. Should she go see Vicky? She would be devastated by John’s response to her news. Should she go after John and try to explain? Explain what? That his wife had a child out of wedlock and had never told him. That he really didn’t know his wife as well as he thought. That she had been living a lie for years.
Or should she just pack her bags and escape?
No, she couldn’t, wouldn’t do that yet. She knew what she should do.
She quickly headed for the basement before she changed her mind. Kane might be able to help John. Then she would go see Vicky.
Dread leadened her steps as she neared his apartment. Kane answered on the fourth knock as if he had debated with himself whether to open the door to her.
His eyebrow rose, but he didn’t say a word. Folding his arms over his chest, he fixed her with a cold stare.
She hooked her hair behind her ears, then rubbed her damp palms together. Anxiety swelled in her throat until she didn’t know if she could speak.
She swallowed hard several times. “I need to talk to you about John. Vicky told him who I am, and he didn’t take it well.”
Kane’s coldness melted some to be replaced with concern. “Do you blame him? He told me once he’d told Vicky everything about himself—even the fact he tried drugs in high school. He’d always thought she had shared herself totally. He thought that was what was important in a good marriage. Now your appearance has undermined that for him. The very foundation of his marriage is built on sand, not rock.”
“That was never my intention.”
“C’mon. Are you so sure of that? You must hate Vicky. Why not break up her marriage as payback.”
Into the Fire Page 16