Dead Giveaway

Kate sighed again. 'How depressing. Makes me feel guilty for whining today.'

'We've got it pretty good, huh?'

Kate took out her cell phone. 'I'm calling Terry right now to apologize.'

'Good idea, and when you're done, read me the rest of the articles. I need to know everything about this Lawrence Washington, even though I'm praying right now he's not connected to Will—especially when it comes to genetics. He's a black athlete, and that makes him a good candidate for biological father. Unfortunately, he is also a killer.'

Kate had been ready to use her phone, but closed it and said excitedly, 'The murdered girl could have been Will's birth mother. Yes, and he killed her to—'

'The timing's wrong, Kate. Amanda Mason died in April of 1987 and Will was born probably in October or late September of that year.'

'Oh. Right. Reading these articles out of order is confusing.' She reopened her phone and called Terry.

We were almost to Bottlebrush by the time she'd made up with him and finished reading the articles to me. One was a short piece on Washington's having exhausted his appeals, another a human interest story on the life and death of Amanda Mason that included interviews of her brokenhearted family. Several more articles had appeared when Washington was due for parole in 2004. Amanda Mason's family and their supporters made sure he stayed in Huntsville State Prison.

Since we'd had to navigate plenty of traffic on the freeways, the ride had taken more than two hours. Dusk was giving way to night when we parked in front of Verna Mae's house.

Before I unlocked the front door, I nodded at the bassinet planter. 'There sits my first clue something wasn't right with Verna Mae.'

'She was clinging to the most important event in her life,' Kate said.

Once inside, I felt around on the wall for a light switch and then illuminated the foyer.

Kate took in the antique coat rack, an expensivelooking side table holding Lladro figurines of mothers and babies, and the plush carpet on the stairway to our right. 'Nice place.'

'Kind of suffocating, if you ask me. I say we start in her bedroom. That's where Burl and I found the blanket and the albums she'd made of Will's life story. I want those if Burl left them. I didn't get to examine them closely enough.'

Kate said, 'It is stuffy in here. Mind if I find the thermostat and turn on the air- conditioning?'

'Go for it,' I said. 'Meet you upstairs.'

She took off down the hall, flicking lights on along the way, while I took the stairs. I turned on the light in Verna Mae's bedroom and found things were not as I remembered them. The oak dresser drawers were half open, the closet door stood ajar, even the linens on the bed were in disarray. I set down my purse and went to the four- poster, knelt and pulled out the box where we'd found the blanket and albums.

Empty. Damn.

No wonder Burl turned the keys over with a smile. He'd come back and taken what he wanted, left the place a mess. As Jeff said, the guy was still fixated on an old case he'd never solved.

I shoved the box back under the bed, more than a little pissed off, but when I did, I heard a tiny jingle. I removed the box, flattened on my belly and sank into carpet so thick you could sleep on it. Reminded me of my old digs in River Oaks, the mansion I'd grown up in and didn't miss one bit. With my cheek pressed against the carpet, I looked under the bed and spotted a lump that appeared to be a set of keys. They were more than an arm's reach away, and I had to squirm my shoulder under the frame to grab them.

Wiggling out from beneath the bed, I thought, Got one back on you, Burl. I sat cross-legged to check them out. One key was small, maybe for a padlock, and had a white, round tag marked B- 109. The other looked like a house key. I pulled Verna Mae's set from my pocket for a comparison, but no match. Did Verna Mae have more surprises to offer after her death? Like another house?

It dawned on me then that Kate hadn't joined me. Where the heck was she?

I retrieved my purse, stashed the keys and called her name as I made my way to the landing. She didn't answer.

'Kate,' I yelled louder. 'I found something.'

Still nothing. In fact, the house was so quiet you could have heard a hummingbird's heart beat.

My own heart sped up. Something wasn't right.

I rushed down the stairs and followed the path made by the lights she'd turned on, aware that the smell of the spring night—a blend of honeysuckle and humidity—filled the house. Maybe she'd gone outside, leaving the door open so as not to get locked out.

Why? I wondered.

'Kate,' I called, my voice cracking with fear. Where was she, damn it?

I ran down the hall, which suddenly seemed like the length of a football field, and stopped dead at the kitchen entry, my hand covering my mouth.

My sister was lying on the cold tile floor.

12

I rushed over, knelt by Kate and as soon as I touched her shoulder, she moaned.

'Talk to me,' I said, stroking her cheek. 'Tell me you're okay.'

She turned toward me, blinking to clear the cobwebs. 'I-I am okay. I think. Help me get up. This floor is hard.'

'Are you sure you should move?'

'Don't get dramatic on me. Someone bopped me on the head, that's all.'

Once I helped her sit up, she rubbed the back of her skull then held out her hand. 'See? No blood. Just a little bump.'

Brave talk, but she was pallid as paper. I touched her left cheek. 'You're getting a bruise here.'

She laid her face against her palm. 'Probably from the fall. Believe me, I was never in hand-to-hand combat with anyone. That's more your style.'

'Someone hit you hard enough to knock you out, Kate. We need to call an ambulance... and call Burl, too.'

'No ambulance,' she said sharply. 'I don't want any traditional drugs or doctors unless I'm close to dying— and I'm not. Calling Burl's a good idea, though.'

She stood with my help, and once on her feet, she tottered a little.

'You're as dizzy as a drunk trying to get out of the tub,' I said. 'I reserve the right to overrule the 'no ambulance' call.' I guided her to a kitchen chair before raiding the freezer. I opted for a package of frozen mixed vegetables for an ice pack. Being close to her favorite things ought to comfort Kate.

'Abby, I am not explaining this to Terry while I'm lying in some emergency room taking up space better used for real sick people. Are we clear?'

'Clear,' I said. 'For now.'

After sitting at the table alternating the veggies between her head and her face, her cheeks regained some color. I found Burl's card, called him and told him what had happened. He said to sit tight, he was on his way.

Kate asked for water, and I found a spotless glass in a cupboard above the dishwasher. There were plenty to be had. The cabinet was crowded with expensive crystal glasses and china dishes. I filled a tumbler, brought it to Kate, then sat across from her. 'What happened while I was upstairs?'

She took a generous swig, then held up the glass. 'Heavy. Not your eight-for-a-dollar Wal-Mart special.'

'What happened?' I repeated sternly.

'Wish I knew. I went looking for the thermostat, turned on the air and then thought I'd get a drink of water after all my yapping in the car. That's the last thing I remember.'

'You didn't see anyone?'

'If I did, that memory's been erased.'