Which automatically meant that I was staying, too. Lamar Middleton, Dillon’s father, arrived an hour later. He was a man in his mid-fifties, balding, heavyset, and clearly distraught. Heather recognized him as soon as he came through the door, and she hurried forward to greet him.
“I’m Heather,” she said. “I recognized you from your picture. I’m so glad you’re here. Dillon’s doctor came out a little while ago, but since I’m only a girlfriend, he wouldn’t tell me anything.”
Lamar ventured behind the swinging doors and came out a few minutes later. “Dillon survived surgery,” he said. “But he’s in intensive care. He’s stable right now, but they don’t know whether or not he’ll make it. What on earth happened? What’s this all about?”
Heather began relating some of what had happened. It was when she reached the part about Molly Wright that Lamar slumped in his chair and covered his eyes with his hands.
“My God!” he exclaimed. “I should have known!”
“Should have known what?”
“That Molly would be involved in this. Living a lie is always a bad idea. I tried to tell Annette that years ago, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“Who’s Annette?” I asked.
“My ex-wife,” Lamar answered.
“Dillon’s mother?”
“Not exactly,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“Annette and I adopted Dillon,” he said. “But Molly Wright-she was Molly Fitzgerald then-was his birth mother.”
For me, that was when a whole lot of what had happened finally clicked into focus. No wonder Molly had been so determined to bring Dillon into the Peters family circle. She knew he was her son even if no one else did. Using Heather as bait, she had been able to keep him close to her. If Heather had moved to Tacoma, taking Dillon with her, that connection would have been disrupted; but still, did a distance of forty miles or so justify committing murder?
Heather’s eyes widened. “Did you say Aunt Molly was Dillon’s mom?” she demanded.
Lamar nodded. “Molly had broken up with her long-term boyfriend when she found out she was pregnant. At first she planned to keep the baby. Then she started to date a guy named Aaron Wright. Aaron made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t want to have kids. Not ever. By then Annette and I were already married. Molly came to see us, trying to figure out what to do. For one thing, it was too late to get an easy abortion. When Molly mentioned having the baby and putting it up for adoption, Annette talked her into giving him to us.”
“Just like that?” I asked.
Lamar nodded ruefully. “Annette’s always been like that. She tends to get her way-with everybody. I told her I thought it was a bad idea, especially since Molly was such a good friend, but Annette was adamant, and eventually I went along with the program. Molly stayed with us until Dillon was born, then she went back home and pretended nothing had happened. She and Aaron got married eventually, and we kept the baby.
“The problem is, Annette was a whole lot better at the idea of motherhood than she was at the reality of it. Ditto for being married. She likes the concept, but not the actual commitment part. So she took off and pretty much left Dillon’s raising up to me. I did the best I could.
“I have to hand it to Annette. Once she left me, she’s managed to marry up every time, so money isn’t a problem-not for her, anyway. So here I was, trying to raise Dillon to be a decent human being, but periodically Annette would show up-often with Molly in tow. The two of them would do the whole noncustodial parent program. You know how it works. They spoiled the kid-gave him whatever he wanted. They told him that my rules didn’t apply whenever they were around, and what kid isn’t going to go for that? Eventually it worked.”
“Dillon came here?”
Lamar nodded. “Got into trouble, dropped out of school, and came here to be with Annette-until she took off again. She rented an apartment for him while she headed for the Bay Area with her latest fling. By then, Molly’s life had turned to crap. Having lost everything else, I think she saw one last chance to get Dillon back-and keep him close.”
“Except he was going to come to Tacoma with me,” Heather said in a small voice. “He told Molly that on the phone that night. I heard him. He said that if I had to go live with Rosemary in Tacoma, he was going to go there, too. He said he’d find a different apartment. Molly didn’t want him to go. She freaked out on the phone and started screaming and yelling. I could hear her from all the way across the room. It was totally weird.”
“Maybe,” I said, “since she had already lost her son once, she didn’t want to risk losing him again. Still, having him move to Tacoma isn’t like sending him off to the ends of the earth. I still don’t understand.”
After that, the three of us were quiet for a very long time. There wasn’t much to say, and I don’t think anyone else understood any better than I did.
An hour passed and then two. It was after three in the morning when the swinging doors opened again and once more the same doctor entered the room. This time he went straight to Lamar Middleton.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Middleton,” he began. “I’m afraid your son didn’t make it.”
CHAPTER 22
Without a word, Heather bolted from the room. I charged after her. When I finally caught up with her, she was outside the front entrance, standing bare-armed and bareheaded in the pouring rain.
“Heather,” I urged. “Come back inside.”
She shrugged off my hand. “I don’t want to,” she said. “Leave me alone.”
“It’s cold and wet out here.”
“Who cares? If Dillon’s dead, I should be dead, too. Maybe I’ll catch pneumonia and die.”
Then, to my surprise, she stopped talking and fell sobbing against my chest. Comforting her as best I could, I led her to my car and helped her inside. I turned on the engine, the heater, and the defroster as well, then I waited for her to stop crying.
“Your parents are staying at a hotel downtown,” I told her when she had finally cried herself out. “Do you want to go there?”
Heather shook her head. “I want to go home,” she said.
“You can’t. The last I heard, your house was full of cops, so I guess you’re stuck with me.”
“But…” Heather began. Then she fell quiet. “Okay,” she said finally.
Once again I took Heather up to my condo in Belltown Terrace. I expected her to head straight for bed. God knows I was ready.
“Can I use your computer?” she asked.
“My computer? At this hour?”
“I need to check my e-mail.” She paused. “Dillon told me in the ambulance that he sent me a message in case he didn’t find me. I need to see what he said. Please.”
So I led Heather into the den and helped her log on to my clunky old desktop. Then I went out into the living room to give her some privacy. I settled back in my old recliner and kicked off my shoes. My shirt and trousers were still damp, and they stuck to the leather, but I didn’t bother to change. Then I called down to the Sheraton. Not wanting to awaken Ron and Amy in case they had managed to fall asleep, I left a message letting them know that Dillon had died and that I had taken Heather home with me.
A few minutes after I hung up the phone, I heard Heather crying again. I stayed where I was, figuring that if she needed consolation she’d come looking for it. Then I heard the sound of the printer coming on-line. Finally Heather emerged from the den, wiping a trail of tears from her face. Wordlessly she handed me a single sheet of paper:
Baby, Molly Wright is a evil woman. Why did I ever think she was my friend? I don’t know why, but she really really hated your dad. She called him a stupid cripple and said he had turned Amy and her parents against her. She told me that night that getting rid of Rosemary would get rid of him, too, because he’d be in jail and that way Molly and Amy would be friends again and we could all live in your house together, since it was half hers, too. I didn’t
