at least.”
“Thanks, Caroline. I’ve been at a loss for where to start.”
“Amy grieving for Tracey-there’s no telling what she’ll do, Chief. She was fighting for her composure while she was here.”
“Okay. I’ll deal with it; I’ll find her.”
“I know you will.” She struggled to wet her lips. “I froze, Chief. I heard the shots, and I just stood there until one of them knocked me down.”
“There were zero places you could have gone to get out of the line of fire,” he replied softly after absorbing the pain she was in over that memory.
She didn’t bother to answer that. “Just so you know: getting shot is not something I plan to do again. It hurts.”
He gently smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I don’t want you telling the doc you feel fine so you can get out of here early; stay put and let them sort you out.”
“Since I don’t have the strength to lift my head at the moment, that’s a simple promise to make.”
He squeezed her hand. “We haven’t been able to locate the shooter even with everything you’ve been able to tell us. Do you think you can help us with a sketch?”
“I’ll certainly try.”
“After the doctor comes by we’ll bring in a sketch artist to talk with you and bring copies of the photos we have from New York.”
“I got a good look at him; he looked right at me. I’ll get you a good sketch if we don’t have his photo,” she promised.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE NURSES SEEMED PLEASED with how quickly Caroline was coming out of the lingering sedation from the surgery, but Connor didn’t think she looked much better than she had an hour after she had been shot. He hated the fact they needed to push for more information so soon rather than give her more time to rest, but she gamely waved the sketch artist over to the bedside. Connor stayed back out of the way while the sketch artist worked with her, his chair pulled near her bedside and the sketchbook held so she could see it being developed.
“That’s not perfect, but it’s as close as I can figure out how to describe,” Caroline finally said, looking from the sketch over to him.
Connor came closer to see it. The face did indeed look Irish, and he could almost see the red in the hair even though it was a black-and-white drawing. He’d been hoping to recognize the face but drew a blank when he saw the drawing. “It’s a solid sketch we can work from, Caroline.” They would have it plastered all over the city within the hour.
She’d given him everything she had for concentration; he could see the exhaustion clouding her face. She worked the morphine drip again to help keep down the pain.
He moved around to the other side of the bed while the sketch artist collected his equipment. “It’s time for us to get out of here and let you try to sleep.”
Her hand turned to catch his. “Can you arrange for me to see Marsh, please?”
He could lie to make it easier on her, but that wouldn’t do either of them any good in the long run. “I’m not sure where he is, Caroline. He was gone from his place when I went to pick him up this morning.”
“No word?”
“He called the station shortly after midnight to confirm he had the latest news, and that was the last anyone heard from him. He sat with Tracey for a while last night in the morgue, went to see Marie after that, then went home. He refused my request to stay with him.”
“He’ll be wanting a private place to say his good-byes to Tracey. The funeral isn’t going to be the place to do that, not with all the press around it. Try that place he and Tracey liked up by the lake.”
“I’ll check there, thanks.”
“He’ll be okay,” Caroline whispered. “He loved her too much to not stay and deal with finding who killed her.”
Connor tightened his hand on hers. “I’ll bring him by here later today to see you.”
“I’ll take that as a promise.”
One of Jonathan’s men stood outside the doorway to Daniel’s apartment, and Luke found it reassuring as he walked down the hall after stepping from the elevator. “Has the press been a problem so far?”
“We’re stopping most in the lobby,” the man replied.
Daniel opened the door before Luke could knock. He was dressed conservatively in a suit, but his tie was loose and there was a kitchen towel in his hands. “Thanks for responding so quickly.”
“I was on this side of town,” Luke reassured. “How’s Marie?”
“Still sleeping.” Daniel nodded toward the kitchen. “I’m fixing a late omelet; would you join me?”
“I’m okay, but I’ll take some coffee.”
“Help yourself; it’s ready.”
Luke poured himself a mug. “Thanks for this, having Marie here. It will be easier than the gallery flat, I think.”
“She can stay here indefinitely, Luke. It’s not a problem at all. I just wish it was under different circumstances.”
“Your message sounded urgent.”
Daniel picked up a file from the counter and handed it over. “Short answer-yes, there is a brother out there not recognized in the will.”
Luke felt the first breaking piece of news slide into place. He opened the folder. He hadn’t thought it could be proven. He scanned an old lab test.
“That shows father paternity to be a match,” Daniel said. “There’s no reference number on the lab work, the only identifying fact on the second party sample the notation that it was a blood sample. But the father paternity is a match to a male, the signature on the payment voucher is Henry’s, and it’s an old enough piece of paper it fits what you thought might be the case. Sam had never seen that document or heard of the lab which was used.”
“The tests were run six years ago; and there’s no clue from this how old the son was when the test was made.”
“Nothing there suggests the son’s age or name. He could have been two years old or forty. For what it’s worth, I went back to my own personal calendars for that period of time six years ago. Two days after Henry received that lab-test result, he called and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse to come in as a partner in the Benton Group. It seems clear that Henry never intended his biological son to be his heir.”
“So let’s assume it was a surprise to Henry to hear he had a son and the boy was at least in his late teens when this test was run. What would Henry have done?”
Daniel slid his omelet onto a plate. “Since Henry paid to have the claim checked out, and it confirmed he did have a son, he had to do something with that knowledge. My guess he paid either the mother or the boy off. That was his pattern.”
“Any sign of the payment?”
“I’m still looking. Now that I have an approximate date I should be able to find it.”
Luke thought it through a step further. “What if it wasn’t just one payoff, but a series of them? Only six years later Henry dies, the money stops, and there is one angry relative out there who didn’t get recognized in the will.
“I’m leaning that way.” Daniel rubbed his face. “We’ll pay him, Luke. If he shows up again somewhere or makes contact. That piece of paper says he’s Henry’s child. I’m not going to weigh it further than that. You can catch the guy whenever you can for the murders, but until then we pay him. It’s necessary to try to protect Marie at this point.”
