Somebody's Daughter

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Somebody's Daughter Page 8

by Rebecca Winters


  If this was part of her con, she was giving a flawless performance. “I’ll buy it now and you can pay me back out of your first paycheck.”

  Her impish smile captivated him. “At this rate I’ll have to endorse the whole thing over to you.”

  Their eyes met. “I’m not complaining. I like the idea of your being indebted to me.” At this point his attraction to her was beginning to haunt him.

  Forty-five minutes later they arrived back at the cottage. Cord didn’t know how he was going to last until Monday without seeing her. Against his better judgment he told Brock, “Maybe we ought to let Kit help you put the farm together now and show you how it works. What do you think?”

  His nephew gave her an expectant glance. “Do you want to?”

  “I’d love it.”

  Her response saved Cord from going into a nosedive. “Let’s get to it then.”

  Three days ago if anyone had told him he’d be in the cottage kitchen with this enchanting woman and his nephew putting an ant farm together, he would have said they were crazy.

  He helped Brock assemble the clear 12 x 14-inch plastic shell. Kit guided them through the steps to fill it with sand, water and food.

  “Okay, Brock.” She handed him the envelope. “Now carefully tap it so the ants drop one by one through this hole in the top. You don’t want to injure them. They’re still a little sleepy, but will wake up fast at room temperature.”

  In a few minutes the procedure was complete. “Now what?” Brock asked.

  Cord stared at Kit, who stood there with her hands on her hips, totally absorbed by what she was doing. “This is where patience comes in. If you guys have something else to do, why don’t you do it, and then meet me back here after seven o’clock. Bring a camera with you.”

  “Can we, Uncle Cord?”

  Cord didn’t want to do anything except stay right here with her for the next four hours. But he couldn’t protest in front of his nephew. As she’d just said, this was where patience came in.

  She wanted them to come back later, so she would get her wish. And after that, after he’d driven Brock home for the night for good, Cord would come back to say good-night to her. That’s when he would get his wish.

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep us away.”

  THE FOUR HOURS UNTIL seven o’clock would give Kit enough time to walk to the Salt Lake Public Library to do more research. According to the brochure map, it was less than a mile from the mansion.

  When she arrived, she found a computer no one was using and got right on the Internet. She put in a search for the Kathryn McFarland kidnapping case and found a time line in one of the newspaper archives Mr. Cosgriff had referred her to.

  She studied the part about the police investigation of people who worked at the hospital and the mansion, or had legitimate access to it. No names were mentioned, let alone her mother’s. Twenty-six years ago it appeared news reporters honored a code of ethics and didn’t leak names of possible suspects.

  After an exhaustive search she typed in Reed McFarland’s name. Dozens of articles came up dating back to his beginnings in Utah politics. It seemed all the McFarland men starting with John had dabbled in them to some degree.

  Even Wilford McFarland, head of a global mining consortium and Mr. Cosgriff’s best friend, had served in the Utah legislature for several terms. But it was Reed who appeared to have gone the furthest in his political career.

  Kit’s breath caught when she finally came across a picture of him taken with his wife shortly after he became a U.S. senator for the first time. Ellen McFarland turned out to be small in stature, especially when compared to her husband. Furthermore she possessed brown hair and fine features.

  Could Kit be related to her? It was impossible to tell without meeting face-to-face.

  She thought of her mother, whom she hadn’t resembled except that Rena was short and had blue eyes. Kit had been told she’d inherited her father’s smile and brown curly hair. The one photograph of him showed that they had the same coloring, but he hadn’t been smiling in the picture.

  The agony of not knowing the truth was tearing her apart, especially after seeing this Internet picture. On Monday she would do as Mac suggested and ask Gwen to get her in to see Mr. McFarland.

  Kit couldn’t put off a meeting with a member of the McFarland family any longer. Since she was already staying at the shelter, it only made sense that she approach Richard McFarland first. Even if she couldn’t see familial similarities, she would tell him the whole truth and let him decide how best to let his family know about Rena Burke’s deathbed confession.

  She’d brought pictures of her mother with her. There was just one that included her father, who wore a mustache. It was a tiny black-and-white photo taken at a penny arcade, the kind showing them from the shoulders up. If the McFarlands recognized either of her parents for any reason, it would mean Kit’s mother hadn’t made up the harrowing story.

  She glanced at her watch. Dinner had already started at the shelter. It didn’t matter, since she was still full from the pizza. But she needed to leave now in order to be back in time to meet Brock and Cord.

  After printing out the picture of the McFarlands, she put it in her purse and left the library at a brisk walk. At five to seven she entered the cottage and freshened up.

  When she returned to the kitchen, she was delighted to discover the ants had awakened. She couldn’t wait for Brock to see the inroads they’d already made.

  Ten minutes later the bell rang. She left her vigil at the kitchen table and hurried through the house to the front door. The second she opened it, Cord’s eyes met hers.

  “Hi.” His voice sounded husky. He looked terrific in the navy polo shirt and khaki chinos he’d been wearing earlier.

  She was so excited to see him it probably showed. His nephew would have to be blind not to notice. Finally tearing her gaze from Cord’s, she smiled at Brock, who’d changed out of his baseball uniform and was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. He’d brought a camera with him.

  “Hello, you two. Come on in and follow me.” Cord’s nearness made it difficult to breathe normally. She retraced her steps to the kitchen.

  Brock moved past her to the table. At first there was a protracted silence, then he said, “Whoa! Look at this. Come here quick, Uncle Cord!”

  Kit glanced up at the hard-muscled man standing next to her. “I told you,” she whispered to him. “The ant farm is always a hit.”

  They walked over to Brock, who had sat down to watch the ants. “They’ve already started digging tunnels! I don’t believe it!”

  “This is only the beginning,” Kit told him. “Take a picture now, then another one tomorrow evening and you’ll be amazed at the progress they’ve made.

  “In fact, if you’re going to turn this into a project for your badge, you need to take a picture every day at about the same time for a couple of weeks. Then you can put them on a poster and write up a history explaining their progress.”

  “This is going to be fun!”

  “I promise it will get even more fun. You’ll have to keep track of the times you feed them and give them water. All the instructions are there in that booklet. Pretty soon you’ll notice more tunnels. The ants all have jobs. You’ll discover what each one is.”

  Cord leaned over to study them. “I’m sorry for every time I kicked over an ant hill when I was a boy.”

  The sincerity of his tone must have reached Brock, who said, “Me, too.”

  Kit moved closer. “I know exactly how you both feel. This is why I enjoy badge work. You learn a lot. It’s a whole fascinating world going on inside there.”

  Brock turned to her. “This is really cool. Thanks, Kit.”

  “You need to thank your uncle. He’s the one who bought it.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Cord.”

  “You’re welcome,” Cord said, “but make no mistake. We both know this was Kit’s idea.”

  “One of the den leaders back in California shared
it with me, so I can’t take any credit. There are dozens of great projects, but this is one of my favorites.”

  Brock scratched his head. “I never thought about ants before.”

  “Few people do. They’re so tiny, yet they’re needed in nature. As you’ll read in your booklet, one little ant can carry a load twenty times its body size.”

  Brock picked it up and started to read. “Listen to this! It says an ant has 250,000 brain cells. So a colony of ants has the same number as a human brain.”

  “They’re very intelligent. In a week you’ll be amazed at what they’ve accomplished. One word of caution. During the drive home, keep your farm upright. When you get there, put it in a place where the ants won’t be disturbed. The less you handle it, the better.”

  “I’ll tell Katy she can’t touch it.”

  “Is that your sister?”

  “Yeah.” Brock took a couple of pictures. “Can we go home now, Uncle Cord? I want to show this to Mom!”

  “Of course. You carry it. I’ll bring everything else.”

  Kit groaned to think Cord was leaving this soon, but she had little choice except to follow them through the house once they’d gathered their things. When they reached the door, Cord stepped close to her. “Thank you for making his day a lot brighter. I’ll be back in ten minutes,” he murmured as he passed.

  She nodded with an eagerness he couldn’t help but notice. After Brock had said he’d wanted to go, her heart had plummeted. Now she was going to be feverish waiting for Cord’s return.

  “Bye, Brock.”

  “Bye! Thanks!” he called to her.

  She shut the door and went into the bedroom to watch TV until Cord came back. Five minutes turned into ten, then thirty. An hour later the phone rang. After a moment’s hesitation she picked it up and said hello.

  “Kit?”

  It was Cord.

  “When I took Brock home, I discovered my sister-in-law was having some difficulty breathing, so I took her to the ER at University Hospital. She’s had an asthmatic reaction in conjunction with her bronchitis.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “She’ll be fine now that they’ve treated her with an inhalant. I’ll take her home in a little while, but I’m going to have to stay there tonight and help with the kids while she sleeps. That’s what she needs.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry she’s sick. Thank you for calling to let me know what happened.”

  “I’ll phone you tomorrow.”

  “It’s all right, Cord. Your family needs you. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  She hung up without waiting for his response. They were better off not seeing each other the rest of the weekend. It was too soon to have such strong feelings for him. When they were together, she couldn’t keep her perspective about anything.

  After breakfast in the morning she would walk to the North Avenues Hospital, where Kathryn McFarland had been born. Maybe someone in human resources would let Kit have access to old personnel files on disk. Wilford McFarland’s suspicions about a hospital employee’s involvement in the kidnapping kept haunting her.

  What if she saw Frankie Burke’s name, or her mother’s, on the record? Of course, she would have been Rena Harris before she married. If she ever did marry… If her maiden name even was Harris…

  CHAPTER SIX

  “HI, KIT. I saved this place next to me in case you came to breakfast this morning.”

  Kit was surprised the other woman had even noticed her absence from upstairs, let alone remembered her name. “Thanks. That was nice of you.” She sat down in the chair. “Forgive me. I don’t recall your name.”

  “Sherry.”

  “That’s right.”

  The dining room was filling fast. She could understand why. Eggs, sausage and pancakes were on the menu. Renaissance House kept all the tenants so well fed, you couldn’t help but have a good Monday with a send-off like this.

  “I didn’t see you upstairs sleeping.”

  Rather than divulge information that probably should be kept private, Kit said, “The mansion’s full so they made other arrangements for me, but I come here for meals.”

  Sherry reached for another helping of pancakes. “Where were you Saturday and Sunday? I thought maybe we could have walked around downtown together or something.”

  “I would have liked that if I’d known. Actually, I went to the public library to catch up on some reading.”

  She omitted the part about being with Cord. Her outings with him were strictly private and the last thing she wanted to do was get him into trouble. Though he’d insisted it couldn’t happen, she wasn’t so sure.

  “What a good idea. Let me know next time and I’ll go with you.”

  “Okay.”

  Kit had also gone to the hospital, but her trip had proved unfruitful. She’d been told to come back on a weekday and ask to speak to the hospital administrator. He was the only person who could give her permission to look in the old records.

  She’d ended up spending most of Sunday in the library searching names in an old telephone directory dating back twenty-six years. There were several hundred Harrises, three with the initial R. She’d found two listings of Frank Burk, one with an e on the end.

  In the most recent directory she’d counted 450 Harrises, twelve of whom were listed under the initial R. She also found one Reba. Twelve Burks or Burkes didn’t produce a Frank among them. There was one F.R. and one F.T.

  After photocopying the pertinent pages of both directories, she set about the formidable task of matching old addresses with the same address in the newest directory. So far she’d found two and would phone those residences later in the day to glean any information she could.

  “I hope you don’t think I’m being too pushy,” Sherry said.

  Kit slowly finished the rest of her orange juice. “Of course not. Why do you say that?” she asked after lowering the glass to the table.

  “Gwen Barber knew I was lonely and she thought you might be, too.”

  Oh, good. This didn’t have anything to do with Cord. “That’s nice of her to be concerned. I’ve been put in the cottage behind the mansion until there’s a bed for me. She doesn’t want me to feel I’m isolated.”

  “I didn’t know there was a cottage. Aren’t you lucky.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you gotten a job yet?”

  “Maybe a camp counselor position. Would you believe I applied for seven of them? I won’t know about two of them until Wednesday.”

  “I hope you get what you want.”

  “Me, too. Well, I’ve got to go. It’s been nice talking to you, Sherry.”

  “I feel the same.”

  “See you at dinner. If I get here first, I’ll save you a place.” Kit got up from the table.

  “Thanks.”

  Without hesitation Kit went straight to Gwen’s office in order to make an appointment to see Richard McFarland. But her hopes were dashed when Gwen told her he wouldn’t be coming in until Tuesday.

  Filled with disappointment, Kit left the mansion and took off on foot for the convenience store five blocks away. She needed to talk to Janene. It was ten to six California time. Her friend would be awake, anticipating getting ready for work.

  No one was using the outside phone booth when Kit reached the store. She punched the digits to make a phone-card call. Pretty soon she heard her friend say hello.

  “Janene?”

  “Kit! At last!”

  “Sorry I didn’t phone yesterday, but I tried to cram in everything I could to get back to the cottage by curfew.” After briefing her, she said, “Everything’s getting so complex, and my feelings for Cord are complicating the situation even more.

  “I need to stay away from him until after I’ve met with Richard McFarland, but I’ll have to wait until tomorrow at the earliest for that to happen. Even then, he might not be available.”

  “Maybe you ought to phone Senator McFarland at home.”

  “I’ve tho
ught about it, but they have an unlisted number.”

  “Couldn’t you call Margaret McFarland at her law office?”

  “Yes, but I’ve got another idea. What would you think if I went to see Mr. Cosgriff today and told him about Mother’s confession? He’s not a family member, so the shock wouldn’t be as great for him. I’m pretty sure he’d be able to tell me the best way to deal with the situation.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea, Kit. Do it this morning! As long as you haven’t met Richard McFarland yet, there’s no point in waiting any longer.”

  “I agree. Mr. Cosgriff will probably tell me to go straight to Reed McFarland, anyway. He’ll give me their private phone number.”

  “Well, he is Kathryn’s father. Maybe he’s your father. If so, he’ll have wanted to be approached first.”

  “You’re right. I’m thinking I’ll visit Mr. Cosgriff as soon as I get off the phone with you. He was out walking at seven yesterday morning, so I don’t believe eight o’clock is too early to disturb him. Do you?”

  “Not at all. Furthermore I can’t think of a better person to hear your story. He’s intimately associated with that family and will understand how vital it is to be discreet. If Wilford McFarland was his best friend, I have no doubt you can trust him.”

  “I believe that, too. For a lot of reasons it’s going to be a relief to talk to him. I hate pretending I’m homeless. Someone else with legitimate needs could be staying in the cottage.”

  “And there’s Cord,” her friend stated.

  “Yes. I don’t want to lie to him any longer.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “After I’ve talked with Mr. Cosgriff, I’ll move to the budget motel I stayed in on Wednesday night. Cord won’t be able to trace me there. Once I know what the future holds, I’ll contact him.”

  “I think it’s the right thing to do, Kit. What’s nice is, if you really are Kathryn McFarland, you won’t have to worry that he has an agenda. Cord is already crazy about you as Kit Burke.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “A million guys will think of all that money if they find out you’re one of the McFarlands. Don’t get me wrong. You’ve always been attractive to guys, but being a McFarland will put you into another class entirely.”

 

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