by JP Ratto
With that, she disconnected. I stood staring at the phone, rerunning the conversation through my mind. I had expected her to be disappointed, but she was more enraged than let down. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I thought she needed time to adjust to the news and be in a calmer state when I saw her in New York.
***
I entered Memorial Medical Center and into a blast of icy air, set to freeze out any humidity and more than a few germs. I shivered but not from the cold. Hospitals aren’t my favorite places. Most of my experience with them has been dire, except when Marnie was born. That was a long time ago. Since then, I’ve watched both my parents wither away from terminal illnesses no amount of medical and technological advancement could cure.
Shaking off the bout of morbidity, I focused on the reason I was there. Karen Martin was stable and expected to make a complete physical recovery as soon as all the drugs left her system. She would have to undergo a psychiatric evaluation before being released, but her positive response to the rescue was a good sign.
Taking the elevator to the second floor, I thought about what I would say to the Martins when I saw them. They had been cold toward me, blaming me for Karen’s abduction. Of course, I wasn’t directly responsible, but I understood. Still, I didn’t like being on the receiving end of their anger. At least this case had a happy ending—of a sort. Although beyond my control, the death of Mary Wells weighed heavily on my mind. The Martins stood outside Karen’s room when I approached.
“She’s asleep,” Sarah Martin said in a rather brisk tone.
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
Daniel Martin looked at me as if I’d asked the world’s stupidest question. He seemed to hold back some nasty reply. Instead he said, “Quite well, considering she was plied with enough drugs to put her in a permanent coma.”
I glanced past the Martins through the open door. Karen lay in a semi-upright position, her eyes closed. Searching for words, the best I could come up with was, “She seems to be resting comfortably.”
They both turned to look at their daughter and then back at me. I interpreted their faces as saying, “No thanks to you.” I took a deep breath and changed the subject.
“Would you like to get a cup of coffee? If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to speak with you.”
Daniel Martin’s eyes caught his wife’s and held them a few seconds. He must have read her assent and relief. He nodded. As long as I was there, they wouldn’t leave Karen’s side. “We could use a coffee.”
The hospital cafeteria was crowded, but we found a table, sat, and sipped our drinks. The Martins made a handsome couple. I hadn’t noticed before how attractive Sarah Martin was. Her face, framed by chin-length, thick hair, was no longer drawn and tear-stained. With high cheekbones and a healthy complexion, she was as fit as her husband.
Sarah grasped her cup in one hand while the other rested on the table, content in her husband’s strong grip. Karen Martin was a very lucky young woman.
Daniel Martin broke the silence. “Mr. Holt, now that you’ve found our daughter, what will you tell your client?”
Martin’s words were clear and perfectly chosen. They were Karen’s parents; Janet Maxwell was not.
“I’ll be honest with you. I took this case because my client gave me the impression Karen might be in some danger.” I hesitated a split second too long.
“She wasn’t until you began to search for her,” Martin said, and I watched his jaw clench and the grasp on his wife’s hand tighten.
I didn’t want to make excuses or try to lessen their anger by telling them about Marnie and my determination to unite children with their parents. I only had Janet Maxwell’s word that she made the decision to give up her child under duress. I was also bound to a verbal contract with my client to find her daughter and would have to report my findings, with one exception.
“Since Karen is still a minor, I’ve decided to withhold her location until she reaches the age of majority. You might consider telling Karen about her adoption before then.”
Sarah Martin’s eyes glazed with tears. “That doesn’t give us much time to explain why we’ve kept it a secret and for her to forgive us. Karen will want to know everything about her mother and father.” Sarah swiped a drop from her cheek. “And you know she’ll want to see them—to know them.”
I knew. Although I believed every parent should have the right to raise their own children, I knew what they were thinking. Daniel and Sarah gave Karen a secure and loving home. After witnessing the family’s reunion when Karen was rescued, I knew Karen loved her parents with all her heart. And I also knew the Martins’ feared losing part of that heart if and when Karen connected with her birth parents.
I wanted to apologize, but instead said, “I know it’s a difficult situation. I wish you all the best.”
***
My next stop was the fourth floor. Sheriff Grange was awaiting my arrival after insisting the doctor discharge her. I’ve endured gunshot wounds and thought the sheriff was not giving herself enough time to heal. I had told her as much. The stubborn woman refused to hear me.
But as soon as I stepped off the elevator, I could hear her.
Maddie sat in a wheelchair next to the nurses’ station, speaking loudly into her cell phone.
“I’m breaking out of here today. I should be—wait, here’s my ride now. Be ready to fill me in on any new developments later this afternoon.”
I smiled and waved to her. She acknowledged me as she disconnected the call and signaled the orderly she was ready. He handed the sheriff a plastic bag that contained some personal items. She said, “Let’s go,” and he wheeled her down the corridor toward me.
“How did I know you’d be in a hurry?” I asked.
“If you knew I’d be in a hurry, why are you late?” I saw the slight upturned corners of her mouth. Not quite a smile, but it was promising.
I took the bag from her lap in a gesture of gallantry before she could object. When the elevator opened, I held the door and bowed as she passed me.
“Knock it off,” she said, but I could hear the amusement in her voice.
The orderly helped Maddie into the front passenger seat of the Rover parked out front. After she was strapped and settled, I quipped, “Where to, madam?”
I expected some sarcastic retort. Instead, she stared ahead for what seemed like an endless few seconds. I began to feel I was right that she left the hospital too soon. She turned to me. Her forehead creased with lines and she bit her lip. She took a long time to answer a simple question. I could take her to one of two places, her office, or home. Her decision surprised me.
“Lucas, would you mind taking me to the farm?”
Chapter 50
The air smelled of rain-washed grass and burnt cedar.
We sat in the car on the clearing between the house and what was left of the barn. Fire trucks from two neighboring towns had assisted Broome firefighters in controlling the fire. The main concern was protecting the surrounding woods. A compact gravel path that ran around the barn slowed its spread, and a summer deluge of rain snuffed out any stubborn embers.
Maddie stared a moment at the pile of charred siding and then turned her attention to the house.
“I lived there,” she said, “in that house—in that hideous pink room. It wasn’t bad when my grandmother was alive. We moved in with her when my father lost his job. He hated having to take charity and drank heavily. My mother died when I was five and my grandmother two years later. It was me and Dad in the house and him still with no job.” Maddie paused and leaned against the headrest.
“It must have been hard, but I’m sure your father did his best,” I said.
She shook her head. “He didn’t know what to do with me. I’d been homeschooled by a friend of my mother. My father didn’t want me to be with the other kids at school. I guess he was afraid of what I might say that would embarrass him.”
“Men do have their pride,” I said in her father’s defense.
She let out a joyless laugh, full of scorn and contempt. “It was ludicrous that he had so much pride. He was a selfish bastard. When my father could no longer pay my tutor, he sent me to my mother’s sister in Ohio. It’s where I was born. I didn’t intend ever to come back.”
I hadn’t known Maddie Grange long, and it had been a rough week for both of us. She had suffered with a gunshot wound and I with self-recriminations for, perhaps, taking the case for selfish reasons and putting Karen Martin in harm’s way. I found it strangely comforting to have Maddie open up to me.
“So you came back to be with him. That took courage. It’s admirable.”
Maddie shook her head and chuckled a low throaty laugh. “No. It wasn’t courageous at all. At first, I refused to see him.”
“What’s important is that you did,” I said, thinking she was being hard on herself. “You gave your father his dying wish.”
“No, Lucas. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about my drunken father’s wishes.”
She seemed to want to say more so I remained quiet.
“I worked undercover in Baltimore. My cover was blown, and my life was in danger. I left and had nowhere else to go. My aunt had no children, and when she died, she left her house to me. Since I couldn’t go back there, I sold it and came here.”
I wanted to know more about her undercover work in Baltimore but would wait for a better time. She swallowed hard and turned away from me. I caught her swiping a tear before it ran down her cheek.
“What will you do now? Sell this property too?”
Maddie tilted her head toward me. “No, I think I’ll restore it. I have pictures of the house from when my grandparents lived there. If I go back far enough, the memories are pretty nice.”
“Really? You’d keep everything the same?” After what she told me, I was surprised. “It’s one way to deal with your demons.”
“Yeah, but I’d change one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Maddie gave me the same beautiful smile she’d given someone at the Grog and Hog.
“I’d repaint that hideous pink room.”
***
I drove the sheriff back to her cabin, pulling as close to the building as possible. It was diminutive and serene. I thought about how scaling down to a few belongings and living more simply could be cathartic. But I like my brownstone and my stuff. Without all of it, it would be my demons and me. That wouldn’t be liberating—it’d be hell.
Maddie shifted in her seat, and I figured she was anxious to leave me and go inside. I turned off the car. Before I could open the door, she touched my arm and asked, “Who is Sheila Rand?”
She held the Rand file in her hand, and as I began to talk about the cold case, she flipped through the report and photos. When I told her about Marnie’s kidnapping and why I took the Maxwell case, Maddie listened with the consideration of a therapist. Besides Scully, I hadn’t discussed the Rand case or its effect on my life with anyone else.
“So now you’re not sure Grayson killed this woman?” she asked when I finished speaking.
“To be honest, I wasn’t even sure at the time. We couldn’t verify his alibi and the witness was too convenient and unreliable. I believed, if not Grayson, someone connected with him.”
“What about the lawyer you mentioned? What’s his name? Cain?”
“He was most likely the one who persuaded my captain to lay off Grayson, but there was no evidence connecting him to the murder.”
“What about a motive? If this was a professional hit ordered by someone to protect Grayson, it’s a sloppy job. Did you think it was a crime of passion on Grayson’s part? Had she threatened him or was she blackmailing him?” Maddie asked all the same questions I’d asked myself.
“Again, no evidence to suggest that.”
“Did you consider this was a random act by one of Rand’s clients? She was in the business, after all.”
“Sure, we did. There were no prints other than the victim and Grayson’s. We knew he’d been to her apartment—couldn’t prove it was on that night, though.”
Maddie stared at the close up of Sheila Rand, her hair matted with blood, her earlobe torn. She didn’t look at me when she spoke. “You must have hundreds of unsolved cold cases. We had as many in Baltimore. Some you can never solve no matter how thorough an investigation. It’s even affected your decision for taking the case involving Karen Martin. Sometimes, Lucas, you have to let it go.”
A jolt of terror spread through me at the thought of letting go of the Rand case. That was akin to letting go of the effort to find my daughter. Maddie sensed my struggle.
“You do what you have to, Lucas. Right now, I have to get inside and rest. I’m feeling a lot more tired than I thought I would. Lucas, I want to…” Maddie paused, lowered her eyes, and then raised them to fix on mine. “Thank you for saving my life.”
She was sincere, and I surprised myself by not blurting out a flippant retort. I knew it was hard for her to express her emotions and was glad to have been the recipient. Although I’d never say it aloud to Maddie, she made me feel like her knight in shining armor. To some extent, we had just bared our souls to each other. I’d not done that in a long time.
Maddie didn’t flinch when I raised my hand to brush her cheek with the back of my fingers. Pushing her hair away, I cupped the back of her head and drew it toward me, placing my lips over hers for a soft, gentle kiss. After a searing moment, I broke the kiss, and still holding her head, said, “You’re welcome.”
“Hmm, I might have to let you save me more often.”
“Anytime. I released my hold, and we both smiled and readied to exit the car.
Maddie glanced once more at Sheila Rand before slipping the photo back in the folder. “Beautiful earring. Looks expensive.”
“Yeah, one was missing. We never found it. We tried to trace them to a jeweler but no luck. We think the killer took it as a trophy.”
“Then the killer is definitely not a female.” Maddie grinned. “A woman would have taken both.”
Chapter 51
As I’d hoped, the next time I spoke with Janet Maxwell, she was pleasant.
No longer threatening lawsuits, she invited me to her apartment so I could tell her all about her daughter. I cringed at the word “all” and mentally prepared for the encounter. I resolved to give the Martins time to explain the circumstances to Karen and planned to stick to my guns.
Parsing the conversation with Maxwell when I had called her from Broome, I was again struck by her reaction. Why would a few more months be too late? Did it have something to do with Grayson and the election? Then it hit me. She had used me as a tool to get even with Todd Grayson.
“Hell hath no fury…”
***
I arrived at Maxwell’s uptown apartment just after seven in the evening. In my search for a place to live in Manhattan, I learned a bit of the history of its residences. Maxwell’s 1930s building was, at one time, home to the likes of John D. Rockefeller, Jr. and Jackie Kennedy Bouvier. Nice digs, but a little too blue blood for me.
Maxwell came to the door looking regal and svelte in a white jumpsuit with, I couldn’t help but notice, a plunging V that dipped to her waist. A sapphire jewel around her neck mirrored her eyes. She’d swept her hair up into some kind of twist. If nothing else, Janet Maxwell was a stunning woman. Had she meant to seduce me into telling her where her daughter was?
“Mr. Holt, please come in. Can I get you something to drink? Bourbon? Wine?” She ran her eyes over my sport jacket, black tee, and jeans. “A beer, perhaps?”
“Nothing for me, thanks, Mrs. Maxwell. I won’t take up too much of your time. You appear to be dressed to go out.”
She smiled brilliantly. “Please call me Janet,” she said and took my arm, leading me to the sofa. “Sit. I’m going to get myself a glass of wine. Then we’ll talk.”
I watched her glide to a small bar cart and pour herself a drink. She sat next to me on the sofa, rested her ba
ck against the rolled arm, and crossed her long legs. Her strappy silver shoes exposed narrow, pedicured feet and pale pink polished toes, which hovered perilously close to my knee. I shifted to avoid touching her.
“So—may I call you Lucas?” I must have moved my head a millimeter, which she took as my assent and continued. “Lucas, have you had time to reconsider your refusal to tell me where my daughter is? You must see it’s a breach of our contract not to do so. How about a compromise? Tell me where she is, and I promise not to contact her until she is eighteen.”
I almost laughed. She might not contact Karen, but I was sure she’d find some way to leak the girl’s location—and the bit about her birth parents to an interested third party.
“I’m sorry, Janet. I can’t do that. I may not have thought about all the ramifications of this case when I first agreed to take it. You must understand—”
“No, you must understand. I need to know where she is. I’ve waited long enough. It’s been hell all these years not knowing her, wondering what type of person she’s become. Who does she look like? She must have changed even in the last couple of years.”
Although persistent, I detected anguish in her plea. “She’s a bit of both of you. But she has your eyes and nose. She’s a lovely young woman.”
Maxwell drained her wine. “I suppose those people who raised her did an adequate job.”
“Yes, they did. You should be very grateful.” Too late, I realized that was the wrong thing to say.
“Grateful?” Maxwell sprang from her seat and began to pace and rail. “I should be grateful to have had my child ripped from my breast and given away? I should be grateful that Cain saved me from a life branded as an adulterer with an illegitimate child?”
I half rose from the sofa when she moved in front of me. Her eyes bore into mine. I fell back into the seat again. Better to stay quiet and let her get it off her chest.