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

by Amanda Stevens

“Can’t…sleep.”

  “Why not?”

  “Adam…”

  “Is Adam still crying?”

  “Sleeping…”

  “Then why can’t you sleep?”

  Silence. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. “Save… him.”

  “Save him from what?”

  “Save him,” she said stubbornly.

  “You have to save Adam?”

  She nodded vigorously.

  “From what? Adam isn’t in any danger right at this moment, is he?”

  Bradlee fretted. “Mother hit him.”

  “You’re afraid his stepmother will come in and hit him again?”

  She nodded.

  “All right, so the twins are sleeping, and you remain awake to watch over Adam. Is anyone else in the room, Bradlee?”

  She started to shake her head, then gasped.

  “What is it, Bradlee?”

  “Shadow…” The word was barely a whisper. “Shadow…by Adam.”

  “Someone is standing by Adam’s bed?”

  She nodded. Her facial expression became tense. “Touching him.”

  “The shadow is touching Adam?”

  “His…face.” She paused. “Can’t…breathe.”

  David exchanged a glance with Dr. Scott. A chill slid along his spine.

  “Who can’t breathe, Bradlee? You?”

  “Adam…” She wrinkled her nose. “Smell…”

  “What do you smell?” When she didn’t respond, Dr. Scott prompted again, “What do you smell, Bradlee?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t like it.”

  “Is the shadow still standing by Adam’s bed?”

  A pause. “Gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  Another look of confusion. Sweat beaded on Bradlee’s brow. “Window open…waving.”

  Dr. Scott glanced at David. He felt his own pulse quicken as he leaned toward her. “Ask her if the shadow opened the balcony window.”

  “Bradlee, are you saying someone—the shadow—has opened the balcony window?”

  “Waving,” she whispered.

  “The shadow is waving to someone?”

  A nod. Then another gasp. “No!”

  “What is the shadow doing now, Bradlee?”

  “Coming…back…” She squeezed her eyes shut, her words a terrified whisper. “Sleep, Bradlee. Sleep.”

  “It’s all right, Bradlee. Whatever you see is okay. The shadow can’t hurt you. Can’t touch you. Do you understand?”

  A nod.

  “Is the shadow coming back into the room? Is it coming toward you?”

  Bradlee drew in a sharp breath. “I…know.”

  “What do you know?”

  “I know.”

  “You know who the shadow is?”

  Silence.

  “Who is it, Bradlee?”

  “Can’t.”

  “You can’t see who it is?”

  “Can’t tell.” The sweat was rolling off her face now. Bradlee flinched. “Hurt me. Hurt me.”

  “You’re afraid the shadow will hurt you?”

  “Don’t tell. Mustn’t tell. Hurt me.”

  David couldn’t tear his gaze from Bradlee. It was like glimpsing the way she must have been that night, innocent and vulnerable and very frightened. And yet she’d stayed awake to protect him.

  “You’re safe, Bradlee,” Dr. Scott reminded her. “The shadow can’t touch you.”

  Bradlee’s hands flew out in front of her. Her head thrashed from side to side. “No!”

  “What is it, Bradlee? What’s happening?”

  “Hurt me! Hurt Adam!”

  “The shadow is hurting you?”

  “Can’t breathe!”

  “Bradlee, answer me. What’s happening?”

  “Can’t breathe!”

  “Bradlee—”

  “Can’t breathe!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Bradlee awoke feeling refreshed. She tried to stifle a yawn. “What happened?”

  “Don’t you remember?” David glanced at Dr. Scott. “You said she’d remember.”

  “Give her time,” Dr. Scott advised.

  Bradlee stretched. “I do remember some of it. It’s all sort of hazy, but it’s coming back in flashes.” She sat up excitedly. “I think we’re close to a breakthrough. Can we try again? Maybe I’ll remember something else.”

  “You’ve had enough for one day,” Dr. Scott said. She got up and walked back to her desk. “Let me caution you about something, Bradlee. We’re treading on fragile ground here. Age-regression hypnosis can be very tricky, and the power of suggestion can’t be discounted. Patients have been known to create false memories, even in the deepest of trances, because of things they’ve heard or seen, or maybe even intuited.”

  Bradlee looked at her in surprise. “Are you saying that’s what you think I did?”

  “Not necessarily. But the notoriety of the kidnapping concerns me a bit. It’s been in and out of the news for years. You’re bound to have heard things about that night, various theories as to how and why Adam Kingsley was kidnapped. It’s always been speculated that more than one person was involved.”

  “That’s true,” Bradlee agreed. “But I’ve had this recurring nightmare for years, ever since the kidnapping. That’s why my parents first brought me to see you.”

  “Yes, and I thought at the time the shadow you told me about was probably a manifestation of your own fear of being kidnapped. That’s why you felt so threatened by it.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, I’m not sure what to think. Something obviously terrified you that night. Whether it was the kidnapping itself or something else, you’ve never gotten over it. I don’t think those nightmares will go away until you find out once and for all what that shadow represents to you.”

  “And if it does represent someone I saw in the nursery that night?”

  Dr. Scott glanced up. “Then I think you have to be very, very careful.”

  * * *

  DAVID WAS SILENT on the drive home. Bradlee couldn’t tell if he was in deep thought or a very bad mood. Judging by the way he glowered at the road, she suspected it was the latter.

  Finally, when they’d left the city behind and had turned onto the two-lane road that would take them to the mansion, Bradlee asked, “Are you upset with me?”

  He shrugged. “Why would I be upset with you?”

  “Because I couldn’t remember everything.”

  “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know, but…” She paused, biting her lip. “You seem angry or in a bad mood or something. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t feel like talking.”

  “David—”

  He swore under his breath. “Are you always like this?”

  “Like what?” she asked defensively.

  “So…relentless.” He swore again, training his eyes on the road.

  Hurt, Bradlee turned to stare out her window.

  Beside her, David muttered something under his breath. Then he swung the car off the road and parked. They sat in silence for a moment, then he finally said, “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take my bad mood out on you.”

  She sniffed. “I was just trying to help.”

  “I know, it’s just… Damn.” He hit the steering wheel with his fist. “I didn’t think this was going to be so hard.”

  Abruptly he got out of the car and slammed the door. At the risk of being thought relentless again, Bradlee got out, too. She walked around to stand beside him, but she didn’t say a word, just stared off into the distance, waiting.

  “It shouldn’t matter,” he finally said.

  “What shouldn’t?”

  His expression hardened. “It was all a long time ago. I’ve got a good life. Why should it matter?”

  “How could it not matter?”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes looked distant, bleak. “Seeing you in there like that made me realize how it must have been. What
they did to me. To us. We were just little kids.”

  “I know.” Bradlee shivered.

  “I think I’ve remembered something,” he said, frowning. “I had sort of a flash while you were under. I think I remember being in a car with a stranger—Colter, I guess—and begging to go home. He told me he was taking me to see my mother. I knew my mother was dead, but I kept hoping he was telling me the truth. But when I saw the woman he was talking about, I knew she wasn’t my mother. Not at first. Then I guess I started to believe that she was. What choice did I have?” His tone grew bitter. “I couldn’t go back home.”

  “I can’t imagine how it must have been for you,” Bradlee said.

  “She lied to me about everything, even told me my father was a war hero. My whole life has been a lie. I don’t know who to believe anymore. Who I can trust.”

  Not caring this time if she was being relentless or not, Bradlee placed her hand on his arm. “There’s me,” she said softly. “You can trust me. I’ve always been here—you just didn’t know it.”

  He looked down at her then, his eyes dark and intense, stormy with emotion. Bradlee trembled as he lifted his hand to cup the back of her neck and draw her to him. He cradled her head against his shoulder as she slipped her arms around his waist.

  For the longest time, they stood there on the side of the road, holding each other, and Bradlee thought in wonder that it was she who had been lost for all that time—lost and alone. But after thirty-two years, she’d finally found her way back home.

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT, DAVID placed a call to Rachel. He’d just gotten out of the shower and was lying on the bed, feet crossed at the ankles, head propped against his pillows. He caught her on her way out, and she didn’t try to hide her annoyance.

  “David, where are you?”

  He hesitated, not ready to tell her where he was, or even who he was. He wasn’t sure why. When the Kingsleys made their announcement, everyone would know. His name and picture would likely be run in every major newspaper in the country. He knew he couldn’t keep his identity a secret much longer, but for now, he wanted to enjoy what little anonymity he had left.

  “Daddy is still furious with you, you know,” Rachel was saying. “You know how he harbors a grudge. It was bad enough that you canceled your appointment with him like that, but to call and announce to him you weren’t interested in joining the firm. To not even pay him the courtesy of telling him in person.”

  David rolled his eyes. He’d heard this all before. Rachel’s father wasn’t the only one who held a grudge. “I’ll apologize when I see him. Something unexpected came up. I had to get away for a few days.”

  She paused. Then, with uncharacteristic uncertainty, she asked, “Is it us?”

  “No.” At least, it hadn’t been when he left New York.

  “Be honest with me, David. Is there someone else?”

  A pair of soft brown eyes materialized in his mind. “I’ve always been here. You just didn’t know it.”

  “There’s no one else,” he said wearily. “I just have a lot going on in my life right now.”

  “But I’m your fianc;aaee,” she said in a wounded tone. “Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can help.”

  When he didn’t say anything, she sighed. “I went by your apartment the other day. The super let me in. I told him I was worried about you. I am worried about you.” She paused again. “There were newspaper clippings all over the place, articles about an old kidnapping. Does that have something to do with why you left town so suddenly? Are you working on a case?”

  “In a way,” he said evasively.

  “I know you’re in Memphis.”

  Alarmed, he sat up in bed. “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Your secretary told me she’d made airline reservations for you, which you then had her cancel. You decided to drive instead. She didn’t know where you were staying, though.”

  He shouldn’t have been surprised. With the impressive facilities of Hollingsworth, Beckman and Carr at her disposal, Rachel Hollingsworth could accomplish just about anything. She probably hadn’t even missed lunch finding out where he’d gone. The question now was, how could he keep her from coming down here.

  “Look, I don’t want you to worry about me,” he said. “I’m fine. I’m just going through some sort of midlife crisis or something.”

  “David, you’re only thirty-five years old.”

  “You know I always like to get a head start.” When she didn’t respond to his lame joke, he said, “Believe me, there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll call you again in a few days.”

  “When?”

  He searched the ceiling. “Saturday. Six o’clock.”

  “All right, but if you don’t get me at home, try my cell phone.”

  He almost laughed out loud at that. It was a more telling remark about their relationship than she realized. She wouldn’t exactly be sitting around waiting for his call, come Saturday. She had things to do, people to see.

  “I have to go,” he said.

  “All right, but—”

  “I’ll talk to you on Saturday.” He hung up before she could respond, and with the connection severed, his life in New York—and Rachel Hollingsworth—instantly seemed a million miles away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The next day, Bradlee met her father for lunch at Pier 21, a seafood restaurant overlooking the Mississippi River. While he painstakingly cross-examined the waitress on the specials, Bradlee watched a tugboat pull a barge slowly upstream.

  “Now, make sure you keep those drinks coming,” he instructed, handing the now harried waitress his menu. When she left, he smiled across the table at Bradlee. “So tell me, darlin’. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? I got the feeling the other night you weren’t exactly happy with your old man.”

  “Why would I be unhappy with you?”

  He tried to look contrite but couldn’t quite manage it. “I know you don’t approve of Crystal.”

  “It’s not up to me to approve or disapprove of your marriages. I assume you know what you’re doing.”

  He folded his arms on the table and leaned toward her. “Darlin’, it may surprise you to know that I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved your mother. I don’t think I ever will.”

  Bradlee’s gaze was openly skeptical. “Then why did you divorce her?”

  He sighed, running a hand through his thinning, but still-dark hair. “We had different philosophies on life, your mother and me. I was ambitious. I wanted to be somebody. Your mother couldn’t understand that.”

  Or was it because she put her daughter’s needs before her own? Bradlee thought. Unlike you.

  Aloud she said, “I thought you divorced her because she moved to Los Angeles.”

  He eyed her sadly. “That was part of it. The last straw, I guess you might say. Our problems started long before that, though.”

  “You two used to fight about money, didn’t you?” Bradlee said. “I would hear you.”

  “That’s impossible. You were just a baby.”

  “No, I do remember. You were fighting about money the night Adam Kingsley was kidnapped.”

  He frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Nothing. I just remembered, that’s all.”

  Her father sighed wearily. “Your mother never thought money, or material things, were important because she’d never wanted for anything. She came from money, and money isn’t important if you’ve always had it. I grew up differently. Your Uncle Harper and I had to fight and scratch for everything we got, but we were both determined to claw our way out of the poorhouse and make something of ourselves. When your mother left, I’d just been hired by one of the biggest law firms in Memphis, and Harper was Edward Kingsley’s campaign manager. We were connected, Bradlee. In solid with the movers and shakers in this town. Against all odds, my brother and I had made it, and then suddenly, out of the blue, your mother wanted me to just give it al
l up. Start all over out there in California.”

  It had hardly come out of the blue, but Bradlee decided not to quibble. “I’d forgotten that Harper was Edward Kingsley’s campaign manager,” she murmured, though she hadn’t really. Harper Fitzgerald had managed many successful political campaigns, both state and national. In fact, Bradlee didn’t think he’d ever lost one. That was why his services were still so heavily in demand even at his age.

  Her father leaned toward her. “Harper was brilliant back then. We both were, if I do say so myself. We knew how to handle ourselves, how to turn almost any situation to our advantage. But to pull Kingsley’s campaign out of the toilet like that, to get him elected after all the negative publicity following his wife’s death and his untimely second marriage to Pamela…I didn’t think he could do it. No one did. I thought he’d go down with a sinking ship.”

  The waitress brought their orders, and after she’d placed his plate in front of him, Bradlee’s father picked up his empty glass and rattled the ice cubes. The waitress hurried off to bring him a fresh drink.

  Bradlee stared down at her own plate. The grilled shrimp smelled delicious, but she wasn’t hungry. Toying with her rice, she watched her father attack his food with gusto.

  “How did Harper manage to save Edward’s campaign?” she finally asked, when her father made no attempt to pursue their previous conversation.

  He speared a shrimp, savored it, then glanced up. “It was a fluke, really, but Harper had the foresight to see it when the rest of us didn’t. He called it the sympathy factor. The kidnapping swayed public opinion in Edward’s favor, and Harper played it for all it was worth.”

  “That seems a little cold-blooded.” Bradlee pushed her plate aside, untouched.

  Her father gestured with his fork. “Politics is a cold-blooded sport, Bradlee, not for the faint of heart. Besides, it wasn’t as if Harper kidnapped the boy or anything. He saw an opportunity and seized it, and something good came out of a tragedy. What’s wrong with that?”

  Bradlee didn’t bother to explain. What was the point? She and her father operated on different wavelengths. They always had. She suddenly had new sympathy for her mother.

  “You and Harper were both at the fund-raiser the night Adam was kidnapped, weren’t you?”