Behind the Shadows

by Potter, Patricia;

  He hated Max Payton. The attorney had stepped into a seat that should have been occupied by a Westerfield. By himself. Instead, Max lorded over all of them, handing out a dollar or so when he was in a good mood.

  Leigh could break the trust if only she tried. He was very close to the probate judge. He’d been responsible for his appointment to the post and then for his continued reelection. But Leigh wouldn’t take those steps. Not yet. Soon, though, if he had anything to do with it.

  But now …

  He didn’t think the story was true. The Douglas woman was a con woman. Had to be. Babies didn’t get switched in hospitals. And Dr. Michael Crawford, David’s father, was the most competent, rigidly correct man he’d ever met.

  But even a bogus claim could tie up the estate for years, ruining any chance he had to bring down Max.

  He called Leigh’s cell.

  “I’m checking out the new horse,” she said, a rare excitement in her voice. “She’s wonderful.”

  Seth didn’t give a fig about the new horse. “I was hoping you would drop by the campaign headquarters today. We can use you.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night, and then the horse came, and …”

  “So Max came through for you.”

  “Partly. It’s a lease. But I’m sure he’ll end up buying her. One look at her and he’ll understand.”

  “Anything new on that Douglas woman?”

  “I’ve agreed to the DNA test. A technician is coming over tomorrow.”

  “And that’s okay with you?”

  “No. But it’s not going away. That much is clear. If I don’t, she’ll file suit and force it. It may take months, even a year, but it will be hanging over my head. I would rather disprove it immediately.”

  “What if …?”

  “There is no ‘what if,’” she said with a surety that surprised him.

  “Still, I don’t think you should take it.”

  “Why?”

  “Results could be switched. A lot could happen.”

  “Max is arranging it. Not her.”

  “Are you sure he’s on your side?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I decided it might be a good idea to look into this Kira Douglas. I sent one of my aides over to take photos of people coming and going. He had met Max. When he saw her leave with him, he followed them to a hospital, then to a small restaurant. They were there for two hours.”

  There was a silence. “He told me he was going to meet with her.”

  “I don’t like it,” Seth said. “You know I’ve never trusted Max.”

  “I can’t talk about it now,” she said.

  “I don’t have a meeting tonight. Why don’t you come over for dinner? Susan would love that.”

  “Sounds good,” she said.

  “I’ll ask David to come, too. Seven?”

  “Okay.” He thought she sounded reluctant.

  “Don’t do anything until you talk to us. Don’t let them take a DNA sample.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I’ll see you then.” He hung up before she changed her mind about dinner and started making other calls. He’d dropped his bomb about Max. Now he would sit back and see what happened.

  The meeting dragged on seemingly forever. The council presented the budget, and an overflow crowd complained about bits and pieces. They all wanted lower property taxes and more police services, more fire stations, and more streetlights.

  Part of Kira absorbed what was being said. She jotted notes on the small notebook computer, even writing part of the story when nothing more than petty stuff was being argued. The other part of her brain was back with her mother.

  She could write the story at home tonight and have it to the paper for the first edition in the morning. She would return to the hospital then. Her mother would have even more questions. Questions she dreaded answering.

  Kira sat with Nick Whitten, another print reporter—a big, bulking guy she knew well and liked. At the meeting’s end, she turned to him. “Where are you parked?”

  “I walked from the paper.”

  “I’ll give you a ride back,” she said.

  “I can walk. Need the exercise.”

  “It’s dangerous out there.”

  “I’m bigger than most victims.”

  “I’m not,” she said, hating the vulnerability the words couldn’t disguise.

  He glanced at her with surprise. They’d both covered the city hall beat for more than a year, and never once had she said anything that indicated a weakness.

  “Then I would appreciate a ride,” he said. “I don’t like exercise anyway.”

  They walked together down the street to her car. Many of those at the meeting left earlier once their particular agenda item had been considered, and now the remaining attendees and city council workers filtered out with them. She felt safe among them.

  They were almost to the car when pain ripped through her side. She stumbled, then was pushed to the ground by Nick, who covered her body with his. She was aware of a shout, then a scream. More screams. Pandemonium. The sound of shoes pounding against the pavement. Nick nearly suffocated her with his weight as more screams rang out. Then moans. Nick rolled off her and knelt at her side. He quickly unbuttoned her blouse and checked her wound, then used his cell to call 911.

  Blood stained her white blouse crimson. Pain replaced shock. She felt as if a searing-hot poker had been jabbed into her side.

  Nick took off his short-sleeved shirt and pressed it against the wound.

  “What … happened?” she gasped between her teeth.

  “You’ve been shot. So have others.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  She tried to sit up, but the pain intensified.

  “Stay still,” Nick said. “Let me keep the pressure on the wound.”

  She looked at him in an entirely different way. “The others … maybe you can help them. I can hold the bandage in place.”

  “You might go into shock. Others are helping.” He continued to press down until a uniformed security guard from city hall knelt beside them. “Ambulances are on the way,” he said.

  “How many others?” she asked, reverting to reporter mode despite the agony rolling through her in waves.

  “Three.”

  “What happened?”

  “Looks like a sniper with a noise suppressor,” the guard said.

  “Did anyone see who was shooting?”

  “Not that we can find,” the guard said with disgust.

  Distant sirens grew louder. Two different kinds. She knew them both. Police sirens. Ambulances. The noise was suddenly earsplitting as they neared.

  The pain was growing worse. She heard other groans. Crying. Then paramedics were there, and police, and two men she’d never seen before.

  A police officer talked to Nick as one paramedic applied a pressure wrapping to her wound and the other asked her standard questions. Name. Age. Allergies if any. Next of kin. Not her mother, and there was no one else. Finally, she mentioned Chris and gave the paramedic her cell phone with his number in it. Her memory was fuzzy and getting fuzzier by the moment.

  She heard an ambulance leave, the sound of the siren fading as it headed for the hospital.

  The paramedic finished his examination. “Another couple of inches and you would be dead.”

  “That’s helpful to know,” she said, feeling extremely exposed in front of the gathering crowd.

  He grinned at her. “Good attitude,” he said, then stood. “I have two others in worse condition than you,” he said. “They’ll go first.”

  “Were they all women?”

  He looked startled. “Yes.”

  A policeman took the medic’s place at her side. “Do you remember anything, ma’am?”

  “Just being hit by a thunderbolt.”

  “Looks like a sniper. Seems like he shot at anything that moved.”

  But she had
been the first.

  Another coincidence? Three attacks in four days.

  The Westerfields. It had to be a member of the Westerfield family or one of their retainers. But she didn’t have any proof. It could just as well be some unhinged soul shooting randomly. She wanted to believe that. She really, truly wanted to believe it.

  She thought about telling him about the MARTA station incident. This isn’t the first time. But her mouth stayed stubbornly closed. He was a patrolman. She wanted to talk to Chris before saying anything more.

  She also wanted to talk to Max. She wanted Max there to tell her everything was under control.

  But maybe Max already knew about this.

  She didn’t think Leigh was capable of finding a sniper, a burglar, and an assailant to knock her onto the MARTA tracks.

  And she wouldn’t believe Max had been involved.

  The second paramedic returned. “Got in touch with your Chris Burke. He’s going to meet you at the hospital.” He looked at his partner. “Ready to go?”

  She looked at a stretcher they placed next to her.

  “I don’t need that,” she protested. She tried to stand and immediately felt dizzy.

  “You don’t want us to get in trouble,” the paramedic said.

  “My car? It will be illegal in the morning.” She knew it was a dumb worry, considering the circumstances, but she had to focus on something other than the pain. And the ramifications of what had just happened.

  “Give me the keys,” Nick said. “I’ll park it at the newspaper. My car’s there.”

  She hated to be without her car. Even for a few hours. It was her independence. It gave her the illusion of always being in control.

  But a wave of fresh pain washed over her as she located her purse next to her. She surrendered. “What hospital?” she asked the paramedic. Any but the one her mother was at. Word traveled too quickly within a hospital. Her mother didn’t need to learn about this so quickly after the news she’d heard this afternoon.

  Two pairs of arms moved her efficiently onto the stretcher. She shouldn’t be here. She had a million things to do. She didn’t want to go to the hospital. And she definitely didn’t want to think someone wanted her dead.

  Her. Kira Douglas. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

  Concentrate.

  She was loaded into the ambulance. It sped through the night, the siren wailing while a paramedic sat next to her, keeping an eye on her vital signs.

  Who? Why?

  She moved, and jolts of pain surged through her, each one greater than the last. But the questions were more painful. She’d been flippant back there, but that was always the way she confronted anything serious.

  She tried to tamp down her fear. There was no doubt now that someone wished her dead. She could give the MARTA incident the benefit of the doubt, even the break-in could have been a coincidence, although that was a stretch. Now she knew that not only did someone want her dead, but they were willing to kill others to do it. She hated fear. And she hated feeling so much fear.

  She’d heard no sound, which meant a silencer. No, a noise suppressor. She knew that from covering a hearing on gun control. She also remembered suppressors were highly regulated. Difficult to obtain.

  A couple of inches, the paramedic said.

  And this time she wasn’t the only victim. A crazed killer. Or someone trying to make it look that way. Was she responsible for others being wounded, even killed?

  Oh God, her mother! She closed her eyes. This would surely be in the papers. It would be on the police radio, and the Observer’s police reporter most certainly would pick it up. A sniper outside of city hall would be big news.

  Dammit, dammit, dammit. The world was crashing down on her.

  And her mother.

  24

  The trip to the hospital took only a few moments. Kira’s side felt as if it were being consumed by a brush fire spreading ferociously through the upper part of her body.

  She was wheeled into a treatment room, and nearly immediately a trauma surgeon was by her side and inspecting the wound. “In and out,” he said. “You’re lucky. No major bones in the way, but it nicked a rib, and it’s going to hurt like hell for a while. The bullet sucked in pieces of your clothing. It’ll have to be cleaned and you’ll need a series of antibiotics.”

  The curtain was shoved aside and to her shock Max Payton stood there. She’d expected Chris.

  Her first thought was how glad she was to see him.

  How did he know? Chris’s words came back to her. Max had as much to lose as anyone if she was named heiress.

  Max studied her for a moment, then turned to the doctor. “How is she?”

  The doctor looked at him. “Husband?”

  “No. A friend.”

  “Then you’ll have to wait outside.”

  Chris walked in with Nick.

  The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Family?” he asked again.

  “Friends,” they said in unison.

  “You’ll have to wait outside, too.”

  “How is she?”

  The doctor sighed and turned to Kira. “How many more are there?”

  She was already light-headed. Now her head swam. She shook her head. “I don’t think …”

  A nurse ushered the men out and returned.

  The doctor turned back to Kira. “The nurse will give you a local to freeze the area and clean the wound. She’ll also give you another shot, an antibiotic and a painkiller. I’ll see if we can’t find a room for you tonight.”

  “I don’t want to stay.”

  “Do you have someone living with you?”

  “No.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone. If it starts bleeding again, or you have a reaction …”

  “I can get someone.”

  He frowned. “You’re going to be weak. You really need bed rest for two or three days.” He sighed, giving up. “I can’t make you stay. You will need someone to drive you home.”

  Just as he walked out, a fourth person popped his head into the room. “I’m Detective Cal Perkins,” he said. “I saw Chris outside. He says he’s a friend.”

  “He is.”

  “He’s a good one to have.” He took out a notebook. “Chris filled me in outside on a previous attack and burglary. You reported one, not the other.”

  “Because I wasn’t sure the first was an actual attack. I think I wanted to believe it was an accident.”

  “But you don’t now?”

  “Oh no. I stopped believing in coincidences a few hours ago.”

  “Did you see anything tonight?”

  “No. No sound. No indication. Just a fire running through my side. It knocked me to the ground.”

  “Any idea who did this?”

  Before she could reply, the nurse shooed him out as she had the others. A shot numbed Kira’s side while the nurse cleaned her wound and bandaged it.

  Kira left with several prescriptions. The four men were waiting outside.

  She went to Nick first. “Thank you. You didn’t have to come here.”

  “I wanted to give you your keys.”

  “You could have left them in the newsroom.”

  He grinned. “And go into the halls of the enemy?”

  “Is that what you think the Observer is?” she said.

  “Close to it. Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I might not have been if you hadn’t fallen on me.”

  “Hell, it’s a good story, and now I have to go write it.”

  He escaped, obviously embarrassed.

  The detective stepped up. “Ms. Douglas?”

  “I’ve told you everything I remember. Can you come over in the morning if you need anything more?”

  “In the morning, then,” he agreed.

  She was left alone with Max and Chris, and they looked none too happy with each other. She tried to get to her feet and nearly fell. She clung to the table. She was weaker than she’d thought.

  She lo
oked at Max. “How did you know what happened?”

  He gave her a chagrined look. “The truth?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “I had two men following you. I was worried about you. The agency is well-known and reputable. They were supposed to keep you safe. It didn’t work that well, and someone will be fired in the morning.”

  “You shouldn’t blame them. No one could have expected this.”

  “They sure as hell should have seen something.”

  Then the words sank in. They should have registered quicker, but her mind had gone as feeble as her body. “You hired someone to follow me without bothering to share that information?”

  “You would have said no.”

  “Maybe,” she admitted. “Maybe not.”

  “You should go home, if you aren’t being hospitalized,” Max said. “I’ll take you.”

  So late. And she was so tired. But she didn’t want him to take her home, or maybe she did, and that made her not want him to. Damn, if she ever wrote that sentence for publication, she would be fired.

  But the fact was that she couldn’t afford to like anyone at the moment. Particularly anyone belonging to the Westerfield clan, and most certainly Max did.

  His eyes demanded an answer. Demanded a trust that she didn’t have. Not now.

  Chris stepped closer. “I’ll take her.”

  “Kira?” Max said.

  She knew the question was about more than taking her home. It was about trusting him. She wanted to. She wanted it with all her heart. But she couldn’t. Despite his impact on her life, she’d only known him a few days. Something like a week, and that week had been tumultuous. Too much had happened to think logically. Too much was at stake to fall in love …

  Or had she already done that? She hadn’t considered the word before. Not in connection with Max. Lust. Desire. Extraordinary attraction. But love? How can you fall in love in a few days?

  You can’t, she told herself. Not now.

  His eyes shuttered, like the first time she’d seen him. He gave her a half smile. “As you will.”

  He left without another word. It was as if life drained from the room.

  She stood. She felt weak on her feet and dizzy, and her side hurt. Not like it would without the painkillers, but she definitely knew it had been injured.