Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's SonThe Brother's WifeThe Long-Lost Heir

by Amanda Stevens

  Which happened to be a lot, he acknowledged.

  Of the three women in the room, she was easily the most appealing, although David suspected she wouldn’t have believed him if he told her so. Her attractiveness wasn’t as overt as Crystal’s or as studied as Pamela Kingsley’s, but instead it had a way of sneaking up on you and catching you by surprise.

  She wasn’t tall like Rachel, nor as polished and sophisticated, though their backgrounds were probably very similar. But she was trim and athletic-looking, and the freckles across her nose gave her a healthy, girl-next-door quality that David found surprisingly seductive. She wasn’t his type, and yet he couldn’t stop looking at her.

  He saw her frown as she stared across the room at her father and his new wife, and David wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

  “Does it bother you?” he found himself asking. “Your father’s new marriage?”

  “I should be used to it. This is number seven.” Her smile was ironic, but she didn’t bother to hide the pain in her brown eyes. She shrugged. “Over the years, as his bank account has grown, his wives have gotten progressively younger and more beautiful. Crystal is his reward for managing to keep the Kingsley account at the firm after that nightmare with Victor Northrup last spring.”

  “You mean Northrup’s involvement in Andrew’s murder?” When she glanced up at him in surprise, David shrugged. “I’ve done my homework. Actually, my mother’s brother was mixed up in Northrup’s scheme. That’s how Jake McClain eventually found me.”

  Bradlee nodded. “Yes, I know. Victor Northrup was the managing partner at Northrup, Simmons, and Fitzgerald. He was the Kingsleys’ attorney, as well as a close personal friend. When it came out that he’d helped engineer Andrew’s murder so that he could pass off an impostor as Adam Kingsley—as you—everyone thought the firm would go under. The publicity was horrendous, but somehow my father managed to convince Iris to remain with the firm, and she gave him the Kingsley account. Other clients followed her lead and my father is now a hero. And thus, Crystal.”

  A man had come into the room, and David nodded toward the doorway. “Who’s that?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bradlee stiffen when she saw the newcomer. He was fortyish-looking, tall and reed-thin, with a receding hairline and features that were distinctively unattractive.

  “That’s Jeremy Willows,” she said, barely suppressing a shudder. “Your stepbrother.”

  David watched as Jeremy crossed the room to Pamela and the two of them drifted away from the others. Pamela said something to her son, who listened intently, then lifted his head and looked directly across the room at David.

  David inclined his head slightly, but Jeremy showed no reaction, made no move to cross the room and welcome David home. Instead, he turned and left the room as quickly as he’d entered it.

  “What was that all about?” David muttered, half to himself.

  “With Jeremy, it’s anybody’s guess. He’s always been…different.”

  “Different?”

  Bradlee grimaced. “Very different. He has a huge chip on his shoulder because he’s always been treated like an outsider here—even after all this time. Edward and Pamela were married just a few weeks before your kidnapping, and maybe that’s why Iris could never accept Jeremy. Maybe he was a painful reminder to her of the real grandson she’d lost. I don’t know what her reasons were, but I guess I can understand Jeremy’s resentment. And Pamela’s.”

  “Does he still live here, in this house?” David asked.

  “Yes, that’s the curious part. You’d have thought he would have moved out a long time ago, but he’s stuck it out here. I’ve often wondered if he’s still been hoping Iris will change her mind about him. Make him her heir.” Bradlee paused. “I don’t expect he was all that thrilled to hear you’d been found.”

  When David didn’t respond, Bradlee glanced up at him, her expression worried. “Look, I know this is going to sound strange, but…” Impulsively, she laid her hand on his arm. Was it his imagination, or could he feel the warmth of her skin through his jacket? “Be careful, okay? I don’t want to ruin your homecoming, but…” She trailed off again, letting her hand drop from his arm as she glanced away.

  “What are you trying to say?” A sudden uneasiness prickled the back of his neck. Her voice had taken on an ominous tone, and David couldn’t help but remember why he’d come back here; the secrets he hoped to uncover.

  “Just be careful,” she said, and with that, she turned and walked away.

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT BRADLEE had the nightmare again. When she awakened, she lay in bed for a long time, staring at the shifting patterns on the ceiling and straining to recall the nuances of the dream—some little detail that would reveal the identity of the shadow standing over her bed. But as always before, the shadow remained elusive, just out of her sight, taunting her and defying her to remember.

  Bradlee got up and drew on her robe. Opening the door to the hallway, she peered out. It was well after midnight, and no one was about. Slipping out of her room, she closed the door softly behind her, then paused for a moment to get her bearings. Even though it had been years since she’d been in the part of the house where the nursery was located, Bradlee knew exactly how to get there.

  Following a maze of corridors from one wing of the house to the next, she at last found herself outside the door to the nursery. Pausing with her hand on the handle, she willed her heart to stop racing. But it was no use. It beat against her rib cage like a trapped bird, and Bradlee felt herself weakening, her courage deserting her. She didn’t want to go into that room.

  Coward, she chided herself. You’re not three years old anymore. There’s nothing in there to be afraid of.

  After a moment, she grew calmer. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the details of the nursery, but the room itself was only a hazy memory. What would she find inside? Would the room bring that night rushing back to her? Would she remember the identity of the shadow?

  Or would she discover that her nightmares had been nothing more than a manifestation of her terror?

  There was only one way to find out. She pushed down on the handle, but it refused to yield to the pressure. The room was locked.

  Bradlee wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. It was possible that the nursery held memories she didn’t want to recall.

  She turned to go, but a shadow in the hallway stopped her cold. Bradlee gasped, her hand flying to her heart. For a moment, she thought her nightmare had come to life, but then she recognized who it was and let out a long breath of relief.

  “David! You scared me half to death.”

  He walked toward her in the dimly lit hallway. “What are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same thing.” Even as he drew closer to her, his face was still shadowed with an emotion Bradlee couldn’t define. It occurred to her suddenly that even though David Powers and Adam Kingsley were one and the same man, he was still very much a stranger to her. She had no idea what his life had been like. How he’d been raised. What kind of person he’d turned out to be.

  She shivered, watching him.

  “I came here to see the nursery.” He reached past her to rattle the handle. “Who has the key, do you think?”

  Bradlee shrugged, her heart still pounding painfully inside her. “The staff, I guess. Iris, for sure.”

  He glanced down at her. “Any chance she’d let us borrow it?”

  Bradlee shrugged again. “I don’t know. After the kidnapping, she wouldn’t let anyone come near this room. Now, though, maybe her feelings have changed.”

  David turned to stare down at her. “Are you saying you haven’t been in here since that night?”

  “I’ve wanted to, but…”

  He shook the handle again, though they both knew it was futile.

  Another thought came to Bradlee. “How did you know where to come? This house is a maze of corridors.”

&nbs
p; It was his turn to shrug. “Don’t ask me. I somehow just knew.”

  The comment was more telling than he realized. For some reason his words were more important to Bradlee than all the other proof of his identity, including the DNA test results and his resemblance to Andrew. His knowing how to find the nursery was concrete evidence to Bradlee that he really was Adam. A doubt she hadn’t even known she harbored flitted away, and all her feelings for him—the bond they’d once shared—came rushing back. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him how glad she was that he’d been found, how happy she was that he’d come home, but she knew such an action wouldn’t be appropriate. Not yet, at least.

  “So what do you suggest we do now?” he asked. “Short of breaking in.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “That would be a first for us, you know. I’ve been told we used to try and break out of the nursery every chance we got. Andrew could manage it, but you and I always got caught.”

  “Why was that?”

  She grinned. “Because you were a slowpoke, and I always had to wait for you.”

  He gave her a bemused glance. “So it was my fault, was it?”

  “If you must know, Adam, you were a bit of a chicken back then.”

  The moment she said his name, something changed. The playfulness between them disappeared, and Bradlee felt her awareness of him deepen. He stared down at her, his expression enigmatic.

  “So you took care of me,” he said softly. “And you always waited for me.”

  “Yes. I always waited for you, no matter how long it took.”

  She caught her breath at the look on his face. A look that told her he just might kiss her if she would let him.

  Slowly he lifted his hand to skim his knuckles across her cheek. “Why?”

  Because you were my best friend, she thought. My soul mate. Back then, I loved you more than anyone in the whole world.

  But she knew it was impossible for three-year-olds to have such feelings, that the publicity and interest in the kidnapping through the years had not only kept her emotions alive, but had embellished them. She knew what she was feeling at this moment wasn’t real, and so Bradlee said nothing. But her heart quickened at the gentleness of his touch, at the dark intensity of his gaze. She tried to let him know, without saying the words, that if he wanted to kiss her, she wouldn’t push him away.

  He dropped his hand from her face and took a step back from her. Disappointment, keener than any Bradlee could imagine, ripped through her.

  “It sounds to me as though we were quite a pair back then,” he said softly.

  Bradlee drew a long breath. “We were, Adam. We really were.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bradlee was already seated at the breakfast table when David came down the next morning. Their gazes touched briefly before he glanced away to greet the others at the table—Edward, Pamela, Jeremy and Iris, who had insisted on coming down this morning, even though she still looked pale and listless.

  The atmosphere at the table was cordial, but Bradlee couldn’t understand the lack of warmth. Adam had been missing from their lives for over thirty years. Why were they not gushing with gratitude that he’d been returned to them?

  Maybe it was because of the impostor, she thought. The man who’d claimed to be Adam. Iris—the whole family—had opened their arms and their hearts to him, only to find that he wasn’t Adam, after all; and that he’d been involved in Andrew’s death.

  The Kingsleys had given the impostor the welcome that should have been David’s. On some level Bradlee could understand the family’s wariness, even though they had proof that David was Adam, but she couldn’t help resenting their attitude toward him just the same. She wanted to grab them and shake them until their formal facades crumbled away, exposing their true emotions.

  She caught David’s eye and he smiled slightly, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. His shrug was almost imperceptible, but it spoke volumes.

  “So how long are you planning to stay with us?” Pamela asked. Her makeup was flawless, even so early in the morning, and her hair had been pulled back and fastened neatly with a gold clip. A few wispy tendrils remained at her temples, covering the scars left by the surgeon.

  Edward, still wearing pajamas and a silk dressing gown, frowned at his wife across the table. “For God’s sake, the boy just got here. Leave him alone.”

  “Don’t scold me as if I’m a child.”

  “Then stop acting like one.”

  Iris, seated at the head of the table and looking fragile but regal in a black tailored suit and ropes of pearls, set down her delicate porcelain cup with a clatter. “Stop this, both of you. I will not have this petty bickering at my breakfast table.”

  “All I said was—” Pamela began, but a sharp look from Iris silenced her.

  As if to cover his mother’s embarrassment, Jeremy said, “Mother tells me you’re an attorney…David.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “She says you’re a public defender in New York City.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you graduated from Columbia.”

  “Right again.”

  Jeremy smiled, but the action looked more like a smirk. “Columbia is a fine school. You must have had offers from a number of firms. Why did you decide to join the public defender’s office?”

  David shrugged. “I knew I would have the kind of challenges there I wouldn’t get in a private law firm.”

  “Challenges, yes, but hardly compensation,” Jeremy said.

  David met his gaze. “Believe it or not, there are more important things to me than money.”

  Bradlee could almost see the wheels turning in Jeremy’s head. If David wasn’t interested in money, perhaps there was still a chance for him. As if to confirm her thoughts, she saw him glance down the table at Iris, who showed no outward reaction whatsoever to David’s statement.

  “In fact,” David said, setting his napkin aside and standing, “maybe this is a good time to set the record straight.”

  His eyes met Bradlee’s for just an instant, then in turn he let his gaze fall on Jeremy, on Edward, then Pamela, and lastly, Iris.

  “I didn’t come here for your money,” David said slowly. “All I want from any of you is the truth.”

  They all sat silent for a moment, as if what he’d said didn’t quite compute. Then Edward, looking as if he needed something other than orange juice this morning, roused himself long enough to murmur, “The truth? What truth?”

  “The truth about the night I was kidnapped,” David replied. He had everyone’s attention now, and Bradlee glanced down the table, observing the various emotions. Jeremy was looking a bit self-satisfied, Edward puzzled, Pamela disgusted, and Iris—

  Bradlee couldn’t tell what Iris was feeling. It was as if a mask had fallen over the older woman’s face, hiding whatever emotions might have been revealed.

  “Before my mother died, she told me an incredible story,” David continued. “Apparently, Raymond Colter had an accomplice. Someone who was in the house that night. Someone closely connected to this family paid him to kidnap me. That’s why I’m here. To find out who stole thirty-two years of my life. And I will find out,” he finished. “I promise you that.”

  The silence that followed was deafening. Bradlee could feel the shock permeating the table, and if she hadn’t felt so dazed herself, she might have found the Kingsleys’ reactions amusing. They weren’t used to being blindsided this way.

  But as it was, Bradlee was also stunned into silence. Someone who had been in this house that night—perhaps someone at this very table—had paid Raymond Colter to kidnap Adam. Someone had been in the nursery that night. Someone had stood over Bradlee’s bed.

  It hadn’t been a nightmare. The shadow was real.

  Bradlee felt herself trembling all over as she realized the implication of David’s words. He was looking for the truth and unless she missed her guess, whoever had been in the nursery that night would do anything to kee
p him from finding it.

  But why should that be so shocking? Wasn’t that exactly the reason she had come back here?

  Presently, everyone at the table seemed to collect their wits. Pamela said in shocked outrage, “How dare you accuse any of us—”

  Edward muttered, “My God, how could you think—”

  Jeremy pushed back his chair and stood. “Now, see here—”

  Only Iris and Bradlee remained silent. Bradlee glanced down at the end of the table. Iris’s complexion had gone nearly as white as her hair. She had a hand to her heart, as if near collapse. When David spun away from the table and strode from the room, she put her hand out as if to stop him, but still she said nothing.

  Bradlee scraped back her own chair and stood. “If you’ll excuse me…” She hurried from the room, feeling all eyes on her as she escaped through the kitchen, in the same direction David had taken.

  She followed the flagstone walkway that led to the garages. David was just backing his car out, and Bradlee waved him down. He stopped when he saw her and got out of the car.

  She hurried toward him. “Did you mean what you said in there?” she asked breathlessly. “Did your mother really tell you that?”

  “I don’t expect you to believe me,” he said. “I’m not even sure I believe it. But it’s something I have to find out.”

  “I do believe you,” Bradlee stated quietly.

  He’d started to say something else, then stopped. He stared down at her, his eyes darkening with suspicion. “Why?”

  The words tumbled out of her, as if in a rush to be heard. “Because I’ve always thought someone was in the nursery that night. Someone who didn’t belong there. I think I may have seen the kidnapper.”

  He grabbed her arms. “You mean you saw Raymond Colter?”

  Bradlee shook her head. “No. It was someone I knew. Someone—”