When Shadows Fall (Callaways #7)

by Barbara Freethy

  A knock came at her door, and she got up to let Colton in. Seeing the two large bags in his hand, she suspected he'd gone overboard at the deli.

  "They had a lot of good food," he said, answering her unspoken question. "I probably bought too much, but we won't go hungry."

  "It looks wonderful." She moved the box off the table and helped Colton set out the food. "I have a small refrigerator, so you can leave the leftovers here."

  "If there are any leftovers. I'm starving." As they sat down to eat, Colton added, "So did you start looking through the letters?"

  She nodded as she took a big bite of her turkey sandwich. Swallowing, she said, "The ones I read were all thanking Molly for getting them out of whatever terrible situation they'd been in. One alluded to the fact that she'd changed her name and had had no contact with anyone in her family for almost two years, but that her children were doing really well without living under the threat of violence."

  Colton shook his head, a grim look in his eyes. "I don't know what kind of man hurts his wife and his kids."

  "I don't either." She paused. "Have you ever seen that kind of violence?"

  "Once. We responded to a residential fire where a man had locked his wife in the bedroom and set fire to the place."

  "Oh, my God." She set down her sandwich, losing her appetite. "That's horrible. What happened? Were you able to save her?"

  "Yeah, we saved her. And he went to prison."

  "At least there's some justice in the world. I know that's not always the case, especially when it comes to domestic violence." She paused for a moment, popping the top on a can of soda. "I wonder how your grandmother and her friends were able to stop. They were obviously doing a tremendous amount of good, so how did they walk away?"

  "The danger got to be too much for them. I think their cover was blown and what they'd been able to do in secret, they couldn't do anymore."

  "That's true."

  "They had to look out for themselves and for their families. I'm actually a little more curious as to how they got started versus how they ended."

  "They must have seen a need. One of the women who wrote one of those letters was probably the catalyst."

  "Which makes that box of paperwork interesting, too," Colton said, tipping his head toward the envelopes they'd taken out of Molly's house. "I wonder if we'll find the details of their rescues."

  "I have to think we will. It's a long time to keep paperwork unless it's important in some way."

  "Very true. By the way, I called my sister Shayla while I was waiting for the sandwiches, and she said she has a friend in the lab who can run a DNA test for us."

  "Really?" she asked, her heart jumping at that thought.

  "They'll need a sample from you to compare to what they can take off Molly's personal items. Of course it would be helpful to also get a sample from Peter."

  "Yeah, I don't think he's going to do that."

  "Agreed, so we'll start with what we have."

  She ate silently for a moment and then said, "Is it weird that I'm not sure I want to find out?"

  He gave her a thoughtful glance. "No. I'm not sure how I'd react if I were in your situation. But I always think in the long run, no matter what the question is, it's better to know the answer, because not knowing is worse." He crinkled up the paper wrap from his sandwich and put it back in the bag. "Time to get to work."

  She finished her sandwich as he took the box over to the bed. "I'll put the rest of the food in the fridge in case we get hungry later."

  "Good idea."

  He opened the first thick envelope and shook the contents out on the bed. "These looks like medical bills."

  "That would make sense. Some of the women obviously were hurt before they ran. Maybe Molly helped them get medical care."

  "Possibly."

  After putting the food away, Olivia wiped the crumbs off the table and threw the discarded wrappers into the trash. When she glanced at Colton, he appeared to be studying a black and white photograph. She couldn't see it clearly from her vantage point, but it appeared to be a woman's leg.

  "What are you looking at?" she asked curiously.

  "Some really bad bruises," he muttered. "Someone was collecting photographic evidence of their abuse."

  She walked over to the bed, wanting to see what he was looking at. He handed her the first photo, which showed a woman in profile from the hips down. She wore what appeared to be bikini bottoms and there were large purple bruises on her upper thigh.

  "Damn," Colton said, as he flipped through two more pictures.

  "What?"

  He gazed up at her. "I think I know why Molly and Eleanor got in the business of saving women from violence."

  Her stomach turned over at the look in his eyes. "What are you talking about, Colton?"

  He handed her the photo in his hand. The focus of this picture was on a woman's face. One eye was swollen shut. The other eye was black and blue. Her nose was crooked, and her lip was split open and puffy.

  "That's Molly," Colton said.

  "No," she said in disbelief.

  "It is. I'm sure of it."

  She didn't want it to be true, but the longer she looked at the picture, the more she saw the similarities between the woman in this photograph and the woman she'd visited at the hospital earlier.

  When she turned the photo over she saw a neatly typed label: Molly Harper, November 1973. Her heart stopped.

  Molly had been abused. By who? By her husband? By the man who was probably Olivia's biological grandfather?

  She felt sick to her stomach. "You're wrong, Colton. Sometimes it's better not to know the truth."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Olivia's legs felt weak. She sat down on the edge of the bed, unable to drag her gaze away from the horrific evidence of abuse.

  "Are you all right?" Colton asked.

  She shook her head. "No. Who could look at this and be all right?" She paused. "Molly was the catalyst for the charity group. She was the one who was being hurt. They must have gotten together to help her." She looked over at Colton, who had a contemplative expression on his face. "What are you thinking?"

  "Still processing."

  "It seems so obvious now—Molly's letter telling me that her voice had been silenced and that she'd never had the courage to tell her story, but she hoped I would be brave enough to do it. She didn't want me to write just about the underground railroad, she wanted me to write about her."

  "Or at least to know about her," Colton said. "If you're her granddaughter, it makes even more sense."

  "It does." She looked down at the photo again. Molly couldn't have been more than late thirties in this shot. It was a long time to keep such damning evidence, especially since Molly's husband was dead. "The fire," she said abruptly. "Molly's husband Stan died in a fire." She sucked in a quick breath. "Do you think Molly's friends set the fire? Or maybe Molly did it herself?"

  "Or it was an accident," Colton said.

  "Could you get me information on that fire?"

  "I could ask Emma. She would have access to that information. Although it was a long time ago."

  "It's still worth a try. Could you ask her now?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. While you call Emma, I'm going to get on the computer and see if I can find any information there."

  "I could also have Emma talk to Max," Colton added. "Since Stan Harper was a cop, there would have been a police investigation."

  His words sank in. "He was a cop," she echoed. "That's why the women operated their escape group away from the police. Your grandmother told us the police couldn't or wouldn't help. Now we know why."

  She grabbed her laptop and started the search engine while Colton pulled out his phone.

  "I'll put it on speaker," he said, setting the phone on the bed between them.

  A moment later, a woman's voice came over the line. "Hey, Colton, what's up?"

  "I need a favor."

  "I figured. What do you nee
d?"

  "Information on a residential fire that occurred in the mid to late seventies."

  "That's a long time ago."

  "There was a fatality—Stan Harper, Molly Harper's husband."

  "Molly Harper? Does this have something to do with that book that's being talked about?"

  "Possibly. Do you think you can pull up the case file on that fire?"

  "It might take me some time. We still have a lot of older records in storage, but I will do my best."

  "Great. And Em, as fast as you can get the info…"

  "I know—you need it yesterday. I'll be in touch, and then you'll tell me why you need it."

  "Deal." Colton clicked off the phone. "If there's anything to be found, Emma will find it."

  "She sounds nice."

  "She can be a pain in the ass, but she is also nice."

  Olivia smiled. "I like that you're close to your family. It's sweet."

  He groaned. "Sweet—just what every man wants to hear."

  She could have told him he was a lot of other things besides sweet, but that would take them down a road that would send them completely off course, and right now she needed to focus.

  She turned her attention to her computer search. Stanley Harper's name was unfortunately very common, and she skimmed through pages and pages of Stan Harpers that were clearly not the one she was looking for.

  While she was doing that, Colton began going through the rest of the papers in the box. For almost twenty minutes, they worked in silence. She grew more frustrated with each passing minute. She couldn't come up with anything on Stan Harper and the fire that had taken his life.

  "This is interesting," Colton said, interrupting the quiet.

  "Thank goodness. I've got nothing over here."

  He held up a piece of paper upon which was a name and a phone number. "I don't know if this is Molly's handwriting, but the name is Keith Fletcher and the area code is for a San Francisco number. Keith and Donald both said they knew Stan but they weren't friends. I wonder why Keith's number would end up in this box. Is it possible Molly reached out to the police for help?"

  "If she did, it doesn't appear she got any help, although there could be any number of reasons why she has that number, Colton."

  "True."

  "We really need to ask your grandmother."

  "Not today. She freaked out when we mentioned Stan and the fire."

  "I know, you're right. But it's frustrating not to be able to talk to someone who probably has all the information we need."

  "Let's take a break, Olivia."

  "And do what? If I keep taking breaks, I'm never going to get answers."

  "This will be a working break. We need to take Molly's hairbrush and toothbrush to Shayla, and at the same time you can get your cheek swabbed for a DNA sample."

  "All right." She could use a minute to think. She knew she was running too fast and jumping to too many conclusions that weren't supported by facts, so she would regroup. And as Colton said, she would still be working on the story, just through another angle.

  * * *

  Colton's twin sister Shayla was an attractive blonde who wore her long blonde hair pulled back and up in a twisted bun. While her white coat over a navy blue sheath dress was very professional, Shayla still looked a little young to be a doctor, Olivia thought, but then remembered Colton telling her that Shayla was an intellectual genius who'd skipped several grades in school.

  "I appreciate this, Shay," Colton told his sister who had met them in the hallway outside the third-floor lab. "This is Olivia Bennett."

  "Nice to meet you," Shayla said, giving her a friendly smile. "So you think you might be related to Molly Harper?"

  "That's what I'm trying to find out."

  "I checked in on Molly earlier. She's still unconscious. I've been keeping an eye on her for Grandma," Shayla said, her smile dimming. "The prognosis isn't good I'm afraid. But as long as she's alive there's always hope."

  Olivia wondered if Shayla really believed that, or if her words were just a practiced line that she'd spoken dozens of times to other anguished relatives.

  "What did you bring me?" Shayla asked.

  Colton held up the plastic bags. "I grabbed whatever I thought might provide a sample. But I did have the thought that Molly is in this hospital and—"

  "And you can put that thought out of your head," Shayla finished. "Molly's son has power of attorney over her medical care, and I'm not taking a DNA sample from her without his permission. However, if you want to get his permission…"

  "I don't think he'd give it," Olivia said. "I spoke to him earlier, and he told me that if I were his niece, I should just count my blessings that I'd grown up far away from the Harper family. He had no interest in confirming whether or not I'm related to him, at least not right now." She couldn't help but feel a little bitter and angry about Peter's reaction. He didn't know her, and he didn't want to know her, and despite the fact that she didn't know him, either, she felt rejected, and it stung.

  It probably wasn't surprising that she had a lower threshold for rejection than most people. Her biological mother had given her up, and it didn't matter how good her reason was, she'd still given Olivia away, and that was a fact she'd lived with her entire life.

  "Well, we'll see what we can get off of these items," Shayla said, taking the bags from her brother. "I have an exam room available." She walked a short way down the hall and opened a door. "I'll get a swab from you, and we'll be good to go."

  "Great," she said, following Shayla into the small room. It took only a second for Shayla to take her DNA sample. How strange that such a simple test could possibly change her life.

  "How long until we know the results?" Colton asked. "We're kind of in a rush."

  "You? In a rush?" Shayla teased. "Why am I not surprised?"

  "Actually, we're on Olivia's timetable," Colton replied. "She's supposed to head back to New York next week."

  "And I'd really like to know if I'm related to Molly before then," Olivia put in.

  "I have a friend who owes me a favor," Shayla said. "Hopefully, I'll have an answer for you tomorrow. But I have to warn you that it may not be completely definitive depending on the sample and the fact that determining a familial relationship is not as strong as identifying maternity or paternity."

  "I understand," Olivia said. "If I could even just rule myself out, that would be helpful."

  "I'll do what I can to help." Shayla paused. "Wouldn't my grandmother be able to tell you if you're Molly's granddaughter? I've spent a lot of time with Grandma and Molly over the years, and they are super tight. I feel like there's nothing they don't know about each other."

  "Really?" Colton interrupted. "I don't remember spending much time with Molly. How come you did?"

  "Well, you liked to take off on your bike and come back at dinnertime," Shayla said. "I liked to listen to Grandma's stories, and go with her when she visited her friends. I really liked Molly, too. She was sweet and she made really excellent peanut butter cookies. She was always so happy to see us. I think she was often lonely."

  As Olivia listened to Shayla talk about Molly, she felt sad that she might never speak to her grandmother. To have come so far and to be so close and yet not be able to connect was incredibly frustrating.

  "I have to get back to work," Shayla said. "I'll let you know as soon as I hear back from my friend."

  "Thanks again," Olivia said.

  After Shayla left, they walked down the hall and then waited for the elevator.

  "It's strange to think that Molly is lying in a bed just two floors above us," she said.

  "Do you want to go see her again?" Colton asked.

  She hesitated. "I don't think I can risk another run-in with Peter, not until I know more. He was pretty aggressive with me this morning. And from what I read about him, he's a powerful man in San Francisco. He works for an investment group that apparently finances some very large projects. I found a picture of him with the ma
yor. They were wearing hardhats and breaking ground for some new hotel." She paused. "I think the building was called the Winthrop, and there was a terrible fire there about twenty years ago."

  Colton's expression turned grim. "Yeah, a couple of firefighters died in that fire. The way the fire was fought is now taught at the academy as the way not to fight a fire. I remember my dad took me by there one day when I was a kid. The place just sat there wrecked for a long time. I was glad when they finally tore it down."

  "It will be good to have something new in its place," she murmured.

  "And Peter Harper is part of that," he mused. "Interesting. I had no idea he was a wealthy investor. Molly's house sure doesn't look like she's related to anyone who has money."

  "Maybe Peter doesn't share his good fortune with his mother," she said as they got onto the elevator. "It wouldn't surprise me."

  "I really want to meet this guy."

  "Trust me, it's no treat. I'm not sure what I'm hoping for with this DNA test, Colton. Do I want to be Molly's granddaughter? She's dying and her only son hates me. Maybe it would be better if I wasn't related to them."

  "It's pointless to speculate," Colton said, as they got off the elevator and walked out to his car.

  "I can't help myself. And part of me is angry that Molly dragged me into this. What if she is my grandmother? What if I find that out right before she dies or right after she dies? I'm going to have to grieve for a woman I don't even know. I probably wouldn't even be allowed to go to the funeral. And then what? I just go on with my life as if nothing changed when everything changed?

  He smiled. "You are spinning, Olivia."

  "I know, I'm making myself dizzy."

  "Me, too. I'd suggest a run, but you're not exactly dressed for it. However, I do have an idea for how you can burn off some of that excess adrenaline you've got racing through your body."

  She gave him a suspicious look as he opened her car door. "Does this have something to do with the bed in my hotel room?"