What You Wish For

by Janet Dawson

  “It’s my father’s legacy to me,” Claire said. “I should have been CEO when Uncle George died, but he gave it to Hal instead. Just because Hal married you when you got knocked up. I’m taking it back. I’m almost there. That old bastard Brinker put a crimp in my plans. Guess who they elected to the board this morning? Your lover. Rod Llewellyn.”

  Annabel felt alarm as words spilled from Claire’s mouth, hot as the light in her eyes. Claire moved restlessly about the room, becoming more agitated as she poured out her plans. Rod’s election to the board was a temporary setback. There was another way. All she needed was another vacancy on the board. She knew how to create that.

  Claire grabbed the metal railing at the foot of Annabel’s bed and shook it hard. “Hal doesn’t know, does he? That Rod is Tess’s father. Maybe it’s time he did, now that Rod is back in San Francisco. He came over to the house looking for you.”

  What was she talking about? He? The house? Then Annabel knew. Rod had come to the house on Hillegass, before he left. And I wasn’t there.

  “You’d gone for a walk. I told him you went away for the weekend, to Carmel with Hal. But it was Lindsey who went to Carmel with Hal that weekend.” Claire laughed. “You should have seen the look on Rod’s face.”

  That was the cruelest thing of all. He came looking for me and didn’t find me, Annabel thought. A week before I went looking for him and didn’t find him. If only I’d known. I would have gone over to the city that very afternoon and thrown myself in his arms.

  Claire left the foot of the bed, talking about the present now, about how simple it was to create a vacancy on the board.

  What did she mean? Then Annabel knew.

  She means to kill me.

  The phone rang. Annabel grabbed the receiver.

  “Mom, it’s Tess. Just calling to check in. How are you?”

  “Claire is here to kill me,” Annabel said.

  “What? Claire? Mom—”

  Claire pulled the phone jack from the wall. Then she grabbed a pillow. Annabel crossed her wrists and forearms over her nose and mouth as the pillow descended onto her face and Claire pushed down. Annabel pushed back. She turned her head and reached for the control on the bed railing, pressing the button that summoned the staff. Surely someone at the nurse’s station down the hall would hear the buzzer and see the light flashing outside her door.

  Claire pushed the pillow harder onto Annabel’s face. Annabel wrapped her fingers around the control and brought it down hard on Claire’s head. Claire swore and backed away. The strap of her handbag slipped from her shoulder and fell to the floor with a loud clunk, as though there were something heavy inside. Claire dropped the pillow and picked up her purse.

  A nurse entered the room. “Hi, Mrs. Norwood. You rang for ­assistance? Everything all right in here?”

  “She’s trying to kill me,” Annabel said.

  The nurse looked at Annabel in consternation. Then she stared at Claire, at the gun in Claire’s hand.

  40

  As the cab sped through a yellow light, Lindsey’s cell phone rang. It was her daughter. “Nina? Where are you?”

  “In a cab, heading for the convalescent hospital. Tess called her mom. Annabel said Claire was trying to kill her. Then the phone went dead. Tess called the cops, and Hal. I don’t know what’s going on but we’ll find out.”

  “Nina, be careful. I’m on my way to the hospital.” Lindsey disconnected the call and relayed the conversation to Rod. “Part of me says I’m overreacting, but the other part—”

  “I know what Claire is capable of,” Rod said.

  “You far better than me,” Lindsey said.

  “I don’t have your emotional investment in being her friend.”

  It is an investment, Lindsey thought, with a friend, or a lover, letting down one’s defenses. The Claire who had been revealed to Lindsey over the past few days wasn’t the one Lindsey thought she knew. She tried to quiet her fears as the cab sped west.

  “Right at the next intersection,” Lindsey told the cabbie, “then pull over in the middle of the block.” Rod paid the driver and they got out of the vehicle.

  It was midafternoon and construction workers in hard hats were visible inside the shell of the hospital’s new wing. The gate securing the temporary chain-link fence was open and a pickup truck had been backed halfway down the sloping driveway that led to the new parking garage. Lindsey and Rod took the elevator to the fifth floor.

  Three nurses and a security guard clustered in the hallway, the guard with a cell phone in his hand. “She had a gun,” a nurse said. “Then Mrs. Norwood’s daughter and another woman came in and she took them. I saw them go into the new wing.”

  “We’ve got a hostage situation,” the guard said into the phone.

  Claire had Nina and Tess. Lindsey spun around. The fire door separating this older building from the new wing was open, the doorway covered with the clear plastic sheet intended to muffle construction sounds and dust. The thick plastic had been pushed aside, ­revealing a short hallway, and beyond that, a big empty space with support columns. The new section of the fifth floor had not yet been divided into rooms. There would be a stairwell somewhere, with ­access to the ground level. Had Claire gone this way?

  Lindsey saw neon pink—Nina’s shirt?—against the gray concrete, someone moving in the new wing. She plunged into the ­construction zone. Rod followed. Her footsteps echoed on the bare concrete floor. She stopped, getting her bearings, looking for that flash of pink. She heard the voices of construction workers below. To her left, at the rear of the building, was a stairwell. Directly in front of her the elevator shaft was barricaded with a gate. The elevator was stopped on the floor above, cables dropping to the bottom of the shaft. To her right, at the front of the new wing, another stairwell led down to the street. Lindsey ran toward it. The voices below turned agitated. Someone shouted. She couldn’t make out the words. Then a construction worker ran up from the landing, cell phone to his ear. “...some crazy woman with a gun...”

  Nina! Lindsey looked over the railing and started down the stairs, Rod behind her. As Lindsey reached the fourth floor, she saw Claire, Nina and Tess on the landing between the third and fourth floors. Lindsey took a step down. “You can’t do this.”

  The gun in Claire’s hand turned upward, an ugly glint of metal. “Of course I can. Don’t push your luck, Lindsey.”

  Lindsey took another step down, turning so she could see Rod on the fourth floor landing. His hand slipped into his pocket, reaching for his cell phone.

  Claire pointed the gun at Tess. “Get your hands where I can see them, Rod. Or I’ll kill your bastard right here and now.”

  Rod stopped and raised both hands. Tess stared at him, comprehension dawning. “You’re my father?”

  “Yes.” He looked at Claire. “Lindsey knows about El Salvador. I told her everything.”

  “I warned you,” Claire said. “Did you know Hal is your father, Nina?”

  “Of course I do,” Nina snapped. “Is that your big surprise?”

  “The police are on their way.” Lindsey took another step toward Claire. She wasn’t really brave or foolhardy. But she had to get to her daughter. “You think you’ll go down these stairs and out to the street, but it’s impossible. Any minute now we’ll hear sirens.”

  “Keep walking.” Claire brandished the gun at Nina and Tess.

  Lindsey glanced over the railing. Construction workers gathered at the bottom of the stairwell, talking, gesturing, pointing up. Then she heard Hal’s voice, calling Tess’s name as he ran up the stairs.

  The gunshot was deafening, echoing off the stairwell walls. Lindsey clapped her hands over her ears and huddled against the railing. Nina and Tess had dropped, on the landing between the floors. Was the slug ricocheting around the stairwell? No, it had found its target. Red blossomed on Hal’s shoulder. He collapsed on the third-floor landing.

  “Daddy!” Tess scrambled down the stairs and cradled Hal’s head in
her lap. Nina moved to follow but Claire put the gun to Nina’s head, forcing her up the stairs and out onto the fourth floor. Rod ran down the stairs past Hal and Tess, onto the third floor. Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Lindsey ran up the stairs, to the fourth floor. Claire headed for the other stairs at the back of the new wing. She was halfway there, Nina in front of her. Just as she passed the elevator shaft, Rod stepped out of the back stairwell. Claire raised the gun and fired. Rod darted out of sight. Nina ran to hide behind the thick columns at the back of the elevator shaft. Lindsey did the same. She clasped Nina to her, as tightly as Nina held her.

  “You’re safe,” Lindsey said, tears streaming down her face.

  “We’re not out of this yet,” Nina said.

  The sirens were louder, closer, then they stopped. Lindsey peered around the columns. Claire headed for the fire door that would take her to the fourth floor of the existing hospital. But the door was locked. She doubled back toward the construction elevator, toward the columns where Lindsey and Nina were hiding. Claire jabbed at the elevator controls. There was a loud grinding sound, then a steady mechanical hum. The elevator descended, slowly, as Claire wrenched open the barrier gate. The elevator stopped with a jerk, still five or six feet above the floor, as though someone below had cut off the power. Voices echoed in the front stairwell. When Claire turned toward the sound, Lindsey grabbed Nina’s hand.

  “Now,” Lindsey whispered.

  They ran. Lindsey heard the gun roar. She hugged Nina as they slipped into the stairwell.

  But where was Rod?

  He was in front of the elevator shaft, towering over Claire, ­reaching for her hands. They struggled for the gun and it fired again. Then Rod backed away, gun in hand.

  Blood stained Claire’s chest. She fell. Lindsey ran to her, dropped to her knees, reached for Claire’s hand. But Claire pulled away, hissing words that Lindsey couldn’t understand. The angry hot light dimmed in Claire’s blue eyes.

  41

  Big black type spread across the front page of the Chronicle, Claire’s picture visible above the fold. Rod looked up from the newspapers on the gift shop counter as Lindsey crossed the medical center lobby. “We’ve been to see Hal,” he said. “Max will be along soon. Then we’re off to the Hall of Justice. Another session with lawyers and police.”

  “Will they charge you?”

  “I don’t know. Max and the lawyers are working on it. Mrs. Megarris has been telling everyone I murdered her daughter.” He shook his head. “But it wasn’t like that. We were struggling and the gun went off. Our daughters are safe. That’s all that matters. Tess and I had a long talk last night. Awkward as hell, at first. Having a grown daughter takes getting used to.”

  “Have you talked with Annabel?” Lindsey asked.

  “Not yet. But I will. She’s home now.”

  “I know. I’m planning to see her later.”

  “I thought I’d give her a few days to settle in.” Then he shook his head again. “No, that’s not true. I’m the one who needs a few days to work up to it.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said.

  Rod’s hand touched her shoulder. “Hal?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what I’m going to say to him.”

  The doors of the nearby elevator opened and Max stepped out. He looked tired. “How are you, Lindsey?”

  “As well as can be expected. I’m avoiding the press and the phone. I suppose the furor will settle down eventually.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Max ran his hand through what was left of his hair. “Everything’s in turmoil at the office. Damn reporters in front of the building, sticking cameras and microphones in people’s faces as they come out of the lobby. We need to have an emergency board meeting. But it’s difficult when the CEO’s in the hospital because an executive vice president tried to kill him and his wife.”

  “Then got killed herself,” Rod said. “With another executive quite possibly facing charges for his part in her death.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Max growled. “I’ve still got some clout in this town.”

  Lindsey took the elevator up to Hal’s private room. He lay in a hospital bed, surrounded by flowers from well-wishers, face pale above the blue gown covering his bandaged shoulder. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Lindsey. Come in.”

  She walked into the room and stood with her hands on the back of a chair that had been pulled up close to his bed. “Were you asleep?”

  “Just drifting. Max and Rod were here, a little while ago.” He pressed a button and raised the bed, so that he was in a sitting position. “Annabel’s home.”

  “Yes, I know. How are you?”

  “I’m okay. A little sore. Doctor’s going to cut me loose in a day or so. And you?”

  “Me? I’m tired. Like I’ve been running a marathon. I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

  Hal grinned. “Not me. Good drugs.” His smile vanished. “Are you okay, really?”

  “There’s something I need to say.” Lindsey glanced at her hands, marked with old scars. Then she looked into his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s like having a thorn stuck in my hand. I spent years worrying about how much it would hurt if I pulled out the thorn. It would have been better to experience the pain all at once instead of avoiding it, letting it fester.”

  “I thought we were going to have this conversation a long time ago,” Hal said.

  “You know Nina’s your daughter?”

  “I figured it out. I’m not completely clueless. However, I’m just as good as you are at avoiding unpleasant truths.” Hal shifted and winced. He raised his right hand and dropped it. “Would you please straighten these pillows? Whenever I reach for them, my shoulder hurts and I don’t want to ring for the nurse.”

  She adjusted the pillows. His hair, once so dark and thick, was now mostly gray, getting thin on top. “How’s that?”

  “Fine. Thanks.” He looked troubled. “Why didn’t you tell me Nina was my child?”

  “Would it have made any difference? What would you have done? Cancelled your wedding and eloped with me?”

  “I don’t know. I found out you were pregnant a couple of weeks after Annabel and I got back from our honeymoon. Claire let it slip. By accident, or so I thought at the time.”

  “Claire, who I thought was my friend,” Lindsey said. “She told me Annabel was pregnant, and you were going to marry her. Told me, so she could amuse herself with my reaction. I thought Tess was your child. I felt used, angry. You were fond of me, nothing more. You enjoyed my company for a time. Annabel wasn’t available. So I let you into my life, my bed. It was more than just physical attraction. I loved you. Though you’d never given me any reason to think that you had the slightest interest in me. You simply took what I offered.”

  “Lindsey—”

  She raised her hand. “No, let me say it. I’ve been avoiding it for too long. Time I got it all out in the open.”

  “Don’t take all the blame,” Hal said. “Leave some for me. I shouldn’t have led you on like that. No matter how upset I felt about Annabel ignoring me. When she told me she was pregnant, all I could think was, finally, she needs me. I can be there for her. I didn’t think about you. Not until I realized you were carrying my child. Then I felt guilty. I waited for you to say something. You didn’t. I should have. But there I was, with Annabel, her baby on the way, me feeling responsible for both of them. It was easier to avoid the issue of you and Nina.”

  “You love Annabel,” Lindsey said. “You always have. At some point I stopped feeling sorry for myself and moved on. I thought I could be so civilized, adult and modern. I could have my child, live my life and ignore the hurt. That worked for a long time. But something happened, triggering all these memories. It must have started last year, when Aunt Emma died and left me her house. I moved back to Berkeley. Then Annabel had that stroke. More memories. The realization that we’re all older. The next milestone could be death. Then Tess asked me to help
find her birth father.”

  “She told me. It was a shock. I didn’t know who Tess’s father was. It didn’t matter, then or now. I’ve always thought of her as my daughter.”

  “Tess’s question brought me up short,” Lindsey said. “I had a certain view of the past. But if you weren’t her father, my version of the truth wasn’t true after all. I dug deeper, and realized I didn’t really know the people I thought I knew.”

  Hal took her hand. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. But I did. I just didn’t think.”

  “I didn’t think either. I just felt. I have a little bit of you. My daughter. Our daughter. She’s been upset with me for years, because I wouldn’t tell her who her father is. I finally did, a few days ago. She’s still upset with me.”

  “As soon as I get out of this damn bed, I’ll talk with her,” he said. “I have a lot of talking to do, with several people.”

  “Me, too. One of them lives at your house.”

  * * *

  Wind chimes hung from a hook on the porch of the ghost gray house on Octavia Street. Tess opened the front door and waved Lindsey into the foyer. An electronic lift with a seat and railings had been installed on the stairs.

  “I took time off work to look after Mother,” Tess said. “And Dad...Hal...when he comes home.”

  “Good. You’ll have your hands full,” Lindsey said. Annabel stood in the doorway, hands on the grips of a bright red walker with four fat rubber wheels. “Snazzy walker.”

  “Adam picked it out. All it needs are racing stripes.”

  “It’s good to see you up.” Lindsey put her arms around her friend.

  “Good to be home,” Annabel said when Lindsey released her. “We’ll have tea.”

  “Coming right up,” Tess said. “Sandwiches, too. I’ve been making lunch.” She walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

  Annabel turned her walker in a wide circle and led the way to the living room. In the years Annabel and Hal had lived in the Dunlin house in Pacific Heights, the alcove formed by the bay window had always served as a reading room, furnished with a comfortable wing-back chair upholstered in blue flowered fabric, a matching ottoman, a small table and a lamp. The windowsills held an assortment of African violets with lush pink-and-purple blooms and thick velvety leaves.