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

by Amanda Stevens

  Jenny closed her eyes. The hand at her heart shook badly. “All these years I’ve blamed myself. All these years I’ve regretted falling asleep that night more bitterly than you can imagine. I let a child in my care be taken by a stranger. I thought he’d killed you. Murdered you in cold blood. Do you know what it’s been like, living with that guilt?”

  * * *

  “YOU’RE AWFULLY QUIET,” David said on the flight back to Memphis. Bradlee hadn’t spoken two words since they’d left Jenny’s house. She was obviously upset and he thought he knew why.

  She leaned her head against the seat back, as if overcome with exhaustion. “I feel so sorry for her. She’s so alone.”

  “I know.”

  Bradlee turned to stare at him and her gaze hardened. “It’s because of the kidnapping, you know. Because of what they did.”

  “Colter and his accomplice, you mean.”

  “How could anyone be that cold-blooded, David? How could anyone take a child from his home, his family, hold him for ransom, let everyone think he was dead? Raymond Colter was a monster, but at least he was a stranger. To think that someone we know may have been behind your kidnapping is almost more than I can comprehend. What happens when we find out who this person is?”

  “What do you mean?” David didn’t like the strange glint in her eyes. He should never have brought her with him to see Jenny. But after her session with Dr. Scott, after what she’d overheard, he wasn’t about to leave her behind.

  “I mean, how do we deal with a betrayal like that?”

  David shrugged. “Look, my mother said someone connected to the Kingsley family paid Colter to kidnap me. That doesn’t mean it was a member of my family, or even anyone closely related. There were a lot of people in the house that night, Bradlee.”

  “I know. And something my father told me the other day keeps bothering me. He said Edward was trailing badly in the polls because of his marriage to Pamela. He said Edward’s political rival, a man named Cotton Weathers, admitted leaking the story about Edward’s affair with Pamela while your mother was still alive to the press, hoping to ruin Edward’s bid for governor. And it almost worked. Then you were kidnapped, and my uncle decided to use your abduction to their advantage. He played on voter sympathy and it worked. Edward was elected.”

  “Are you saying you think your uncle may have had something to do with it?”

  She glanced at him sharply. “Actually, no. I was thinking about Cotton Weathers.”

  “But you just said my kidnapping helped get my father elected.”

  “Yes, but maybe Cotton’s plan backfired. Maybe he thought kidnapping one of Edward’s sons would cause him to pull out of the race.”

  “It’s possible. But if my kidnapping was politically motivated, I’d be more inclined to believe that someone already knew, or at least had a pretty good idea, what the consequences would be. That my kidnapping would put voters’ sympathy squarely in Edward’s corner. And who would be in a better position to know that than Edward Kingsley himself?”

  Bradlee gasped. “You think your own father paid to have you kidnapped?”

  David shrugged. “I don’t know anything about the man. But Jenny said he was ambitious back then, and from everything I’ve read about them, the Kingsleys don’t like to lose.”

  “But he only served two terms as governor and then retired from politics,” Bradlee said. “Why would he risk so much, only to give it all up a few years later?”

  David turned in his seat to face her. “I’ve thought about that. Maybe the guilt got to him. Think about it. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to disappear like that. According to my mother, Colter said he had to return me to my family in a few days, but she took me away before he could. When everyone thought I was dead, imagine how that would have made my father—or whoever paid Colter to kidnap me—feel. And it certainly seems as though Edward has had something preying on his mind all these years. Look what he’s done to himself.”

  “I can’t believe a father would do something like that to his own son,” Bradlee said. She bit her lip, thinking. “What about Pamela?”

  “What about her?”

  “Jenny said that Pamela had done something to you the day of the kidnapping. Supposing she was worried what Edward would do when he found out.”

  David frowned. “So she paid Colter to kidnap me? She would have had to work awfully fast.”

  “Not if she and Colter already knew each other.”

  David remembered what Colter had told him, that he’d worked at the mansion as a security guard. Was it possible he and Pamela had had a relationship? Of all the people that David had met so far, it was easier to believe Pamela Kingsley had been behind his kidnapping than anyone else.

  “Maybe she decided she could kill two birds with one stone,” Bradlee said. “She’d keep Edward from finding out that she’d been abusive to you, and she’d get rid of one of the Kingsley heirs standing in Jeremy’s way.”

  “Then why not get rid of both Andrew and me?” David said, playing the devil’s advocate.

  Bradlee shrugged. “Obviously, I don’t have everything worked out.”

  “There’s still the possibility that whoever conspired with Raymond Colter did so out of nothing more than greed,” David said. “Maybe they split the ransom money. Don’t forget, thirty years ago 250,000 was still a lot of money.”

  “It wouldn’t seem so for the high rollers who attended the fund-raiser that night,” Bradlee said. “Most of them were loaded. That’s why they were invited.”

  “Most of them may have appeared to be loaded,” David said grimly. “Any one of them, however, could have found himself—or herself—in just enough financial trouble that a quarter of a million dollars would have bailed him out.” David, staring down at Bradlee, saw something flash in her eyes. Something that almost looked like fear. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing.”

  But David could tell that something he’d said had frightened her. Did she know more about that night than she was telling?

  He didn’t like to think so, but it came back to one thing: There wasn’t a single person connected to the Kingsleys that he could truly trust.

  Maybe not even his guardian angel.

  * * *

  UNABLE TO SLEEP THAT NIGHT, Bradlee took a midnight walk in the gardens. David had warned her about being alone, but she had to have fresh air. She had to try and clear her head because ever since they’d returned from St. Louis, a myriad of disturbing thoughts had been swirling around inside her.

  “Most of them may have appeared to be loaded. Any one of them, however, could have found himself—or herself—in just enough financial trouble that a quarter of a million dollars would have bailed him out.”

  “You were fighting about money the night Adam Kingsley was kidnapped.”

  “Dammit, Mary, I told you I have everything under control.”

  Bradlee closed her eyes. It wasn’t possible, she told herself. Her father had weaknesses, but he would never have been involved in Adam’s kidnapping, no matter what kind of financial trouble he found himself in.

  But what about her uncle? What about Harper Fitzgerald? Bradlee knew him to be brilliant, ambitious, and ruthless. He’d made millions as the man behind the scenes, pulling the strings offstage in order to get his candidate elected to public office. None of his clients had ever lost a single campaign. Bradlee was sure that was why the Kingsleys had hired him in the first place. They knew he would not let Edward lose.

  “He called it the sympathy factor.”

  All this time Bradlee had been worried about what would happen if she and David found out someone in his own family had paid to have him kidnapped, but what if Raymond Colter’s conspirator was someone in her family? What would David think of her then?

  Would he wonder if she had been covering for them all these years? Would he believe her when she said she really couldn’t remember who’d come into the nursery that night?


  Bradlee turned to stare up at the mansion. In the moonlight, her gaze traveled over the imposing facade, pinpointing the balcony off the nursery. The windows beyond lay in darkness, but as Bradlee watched, she saw a beam of light through the French doors, as if someone were moving about in the nursery with a flashlight.

  She took a step toward the house. Who could be up there? The nursery had been locked when she and David had tried to get in a few nights ago. If it was a member of the staff or the family, why not turn on the light? Why use a flashlight as if to avoid detection?

  The flashlight went out suddenly, and Bradlee wondered if she had been spotted. She stared at the window for several more minutes, but the room remained dark, leaving her to think she might have imagined the whole thing.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The day after they returned from St. Louis, David told Bradlee he wanted to go see Dr. Scott, to try and persuade her to tell them who she had been working for back then, and who she was working for now. He used the word persuade, but Bradlee read coerce in his eyes. Maybe even threaten. She didn’t want things to get out of hand, so she insisted on going with him, and David reluctantly agreed.

  Knowing what she now knew, Bradlee dreaded the prospect of facing the psychiatrist again. The woman had been privy to her innermost thoughts and had betrayed her. Betrayed a three-year-old child who’d desperately needed her help.

  What kind of woman—what kind of doctor— would do something like that?

  Either a desperate one or a very frightened one, Bradlee thought with a shiver.

  As if sensing her trepidation, David took her hand when they stepped out of the elevator. “I’m okay,” she assured him. “I want to know who’s behind this as much as you do.”

  “We’re in this together now,” he said, gazing down at her. “I didn’t want you involved, but you were right. You already are involved, and the quicker we find out who’s behind all this, the better I’ll feel about your safety.”

  His concern touched Bradlee, but just as she was drawing to his warmth, he released her hand.

  The receptionist was alone in the office, boxing up files. She appeared harried and somewhat distressed. She glanced up when they walked in and shoved a lock of hair from her forehead.

  “Oh, Miss Fitzgerald. Did you have an appointment with Dr. Scott this morning? I thought I called all her patients—”

  Bradlee shook her head, stopping the woman in mid-sentence. “I don’t have an appointment. But I was hoping she’d have a minute to see me. It’s important.”

  The receptionist returned to her job of sorting files. “I’m sorry, but Dr. Scott isn’t in. She was called out of town on an emergency.”

  David said, “It looks as if you’re cleaning out the office. Dr. Scott is coming back, isn’t she?”

  The receptionist glanced up with a frown. “I really can’t say. All I know is that she called me at home last night to tell me she was leaving town. I was to come here and close up the office, box up all the files, and put them in storage. And then find myself another job,” she added bitterly.

  “Did she tell you where she was going?” Bradlee asked.

  The receptionist cast a wary glance around the office. Then she lowered her voice. “That’s the strange part. I don’t even know where to send this stuff. She said she’d send me an address later.”

  Bradlee wished the woman luck on her job hunting, then she and David left the office. Out on the street, Bradlee asked, “What do you make of all that?”

  David shrugged. “Evidently she panicked and decided to split before she got dragged into this thing any further. I would be surprised if she hasn’t been planning for this little contingency for years.”

  “Meaning it’s not going to be that easy to find her?”

  “Exactly.” His expression turned grim. “I’m not without resources, though. She can’t have gotten too far. I’ll see what I can do about getting the police to help us track her down.”

  “What if they find her, David? It’ll be her word against mine that she drugged me. We can’t prove anything. You were right. I should have gone to the hospital that day. At least we’d have that.”

  “We may not be able to prove anything, but if we scare her badly enough, she might be willing to talk.”

  “Raymond Colter wasn’t. He swears to this day he didn’t have a coconspirator.”

  Frowning, David stared at the flow of traffic on the street. “I know. But Dr. Scott has a lot more to lose than Colter. The threat of spending the rest of her life in prison might be enough to sway her.”

  But somehow Bradlee didn’t think it would be. Whoever was behind the conspiracy wielded enough power that even the threat of prison wouldn’t be enough to make Dr. Scott talk—if the woman was even still alive.

  * * *

  IRIS AND HER SECRETARY had been working on the invitations to David’s “coming out” party for days. That afternoon, she summoned Bradlee to her sitting room, where she reclined on her green silk chaise, giving her secretary last-minute instructions for mailing. Since time was of the essence—the party was to be held at the end of the following week—most of the invitations would be hand-delivered by courier.

  The secretary scurried out, instructions in hand, and closed the door behind her. Iris motioned Bradlee to a chair near her chaise.

  “I’ve done as David asked,” she said, once Bradlee was settled. Iris wore a blue satin bed jacket that deepened the color of her eyes. She handed Bradlee a sheet of paper with a typed list of names. “As long as you’re here, I may as well give this to you. You can pass it on to him.”

  Bradlee glanced up. “What is this?”

  “The guest list for the party. Although many of them are deceased and many others are scattered to the four corners of the earth, I’ve done my best to bring as many as I could back together.”

  “You’ve obviously gone to a great deal of trouble,” Bradlee said. “Why don’t you give this to David yourself?”

  “You see more of him these days than I do,” she said. “And I’d like for him to have it as soon as possible.”

  Bradlee shrugged, folding the list and slipping it into the pocket of her jeans. “I’ll give it to him when I see him, then.”

  “Thank you.” Iris adjusted the blanket spread over her legs. “You and he have become very close, haven’t you? Almost like you’ve never been apart.”

  Bradlee couldn’t tell if the old woman was pleased by this or not. With Iris, you could never be entirely sure—until the hammer fell. “I’ve tried to be his friend,” Bradlee said. Her gaze was direct. “I think he needs one right now.”

  Iris nodded, a flicker of approval in her eyes. “You must wonder about our response to his arrival. It must seem as though we aren’t overjoyed to have him home again.”

  When Bradlee said nothing, Iris continued. “But we are. Make no mistake about that. Having him here, safe and sound, is an answer to my prayers. For over thirty years, I mourned my grandson, and then to discover he was still alive, to have found him when all hope was lost…” She trailed off, her eyes shimmering with unexpected tears.

  Bradlee leaned toward her. “Then why not tell him? Why not let him know what his being here means to you? It could make such a difference to him.”

  Iris’s eyes closed briefly. “I want to. I want that more than anything. To take my grandson in my arms, to hold him again as I did when he was little…” Then her voice hardened, drawing shivers down Bradlee’s spine. “You heard about the man who came here a few months ago claiming to be Adam, what he did to Andrew.”

  Bradlee nodded.

  “I opened my heart to Michael Eldridge. I thought he was the answer to my prayers. I loved him the moment I laid eyes on him. I brought him into my home, gave him my devotion, and then to find out he was an impostor, to discover he had helped murder my grandson…” She lifted her chin, her eyes glittering like sapphires. “I cannot go through that again.”

  “But you know David is Adam. The
DNA tests proved that,” Bradlee said.

  “Michael Eldridge’s DNA test proved him to be Adam.”

  “But it was faked. David’s wasn’t.”

  “In my mind, I do know he is Adam,” Iris replied softly. “But my heart is still very much afraid to believe.”

  Suddenly, the power and wealth and prestige seemed to melt away from Iris Kingsley, leaving a vulnerable old woman who was terribly afraid of being hurt again. For the first time in a long time, Bradlee felt her heart go out to her.

  “You don’t have to be afraid,” she said. “I know he’s Adam. I know.”

  Iris’s gaze lifted to meet Bradlee’s. An understanding passed between them. “You’ve been waiting for him to come home, too, haven’t you, my dear?”

  “Since the night he disappeared,” Bradlee said simply.

  * * *

  BACK IN HER OWN ROOM, Bradlee stared down at the list of names. She wanted to trust the pain and vulnerability she’d glimpsed in Iris’s eyes earlier, wanted to believe the real reason no one in this house had welcomed David home was because they’d all been badly hurt.

  But there had been something else in Iris’s eyes, a slyness lurking behind the tears of sadness. Bradlee wanted to trust the old woman’s sincerity, but Iris Kingsley was a woman of machinations. She never did anything without a reason.

  Could they trust that the list contained the names of all those who had been present the night Adam was kidnapped? There was no reason Bradlee could think of for Iris and Edward not to have invited everyone, but she and David had only Iris’s word for it.

  What they needed, Bradlee decided, was another list, and she knew exactly where they could get one.

  She’d worked in her Uncle Harper’s office one summer after high school, and she remembered that he kept an extensive filing system, never threw any kind of paperwork away. He had a real thing about it.

  The whole basement of his office building was used for file storage, and Bradlee would be willing to bet there would still be a copy of the guest list from Edward Kingsley’s fund-raiser somewhere among the thousands and thousands of folders. The question was, would Harper willingly give her a copy?