by Neely Powell
“Yes,” Hunter replied.
As he clicked off the phone a metallic gleam caught his eye. On the walkway directly across from them, a little girl in a pink sweater chased a cluster of heart-shaped balloons that had escaped her grasp. Apparently caught by a current of air, the balloons soared straight to the skylight above them and burst with three tiny little pops.
Hunter realized he was just as vulnerable.
Chapter 24
I was exhausted, but didn’t sleep well. Even staying at Hunter’s, where I knew I was well guarded, I couldn’t relax. How could I rest after what Cyn had said?
Early the next morning, I gave up and went back to work on Lizzie’s case at Hunter’s dining room table.
One of the contacts that Carl Kowalski had given Evan had led to a list of young doctors practicing at the Hayden Clinic near the date of Lizzie’s birth. Yesterday, before Cyn called, I had been exploring a Dr. Blake Taylor.
I clicked back to a photograph taken as few years back that I found of a doctor by that name with a very pregnant Lady Punk. The picture had been taken at a benefit, and he was listed as the rap star’s OB GYN, “a very important man in my life,” according to the quote from the star.
The man in the photograph was the right age—early 50’s. He was blond and handsome, had kept himself in great shape and perhaps had a nip or tuck made to his face. As I followed more links to his name, I found a variety of newspaper articles, photos, and information. Blake was a man who made an effort to get into the news. He attended everything from the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra to the gala Oscar parties given by Vanity Fair.
His reputation as a fertility doctor was equally documented. He was in the forefront of the field and listed Dr. Hayden among his mentors. There were a number of articles from his patients, who adored the handsome doctor. As I moved from photograph to photograph, something nagged at me. He was familiar. Had I met him at party with my father or at Hunter’s parents?
I paused on a headshot of Dr. Taylor on his practice’s website. His features were vaguely Nordic, and his eyes a deep blue. Vivid blue.
I recalled another pair of blue eyes, equally as crystalline, and just as memorable.
Almost holding my breath, I checked the information on Dr. Taylor again. He was a graduate of Princeton, class of 1978. Several more clicks of the mouse and I had a photo from Dr. Taylor’s university days. His hair had been darker then, more of a light brown than blond, but those blue eyes were undeniable.
I downloaded the photo and put it in Photoshop to enlarge it.
“What are you doing?”
I jumped at the sound of Evan’s voice. Though it was barely six in the morning, he was dressed for the day, looking as if he had slept deeply and well.
“Let me show you something.” I sorted through other files until I found what I was looking for. I pulled up a photo of Lizzie Howerton taken at her debutante ball, then enlarged Dr. Taylor’s college photograph and placed them side by side on the monitor.
“What do you think?” I tapped the screen.
“They could be brother and sister,” he said.
“Or father and daughter.” I let out a sigh. “Oh my God, I think I’ve just found out how Dr. Hayden made all of those women pregnant. It was the young doctors.”
“What?”
“They must have given him their sperm.”
“Christ,” Evan said. “Are you sure?”
“No, but there’s someone who can tell us. It’s time to let Lizzie call Dr. Hayden’s wife and demand some explanations.”
****
The San Remos, where Elaine Hayden Richards lived, was beautiful, even on this cloudy, cold day. Watching the limos and well-dressed, well-coifed residents come and go, I could almost smell the money in the air.
Lizzie asked us to wait for her outside so we could go up together. Earlier today, I met with the younger woman to show her Dr. Taylor’s photographs and tell her my suspicions.
She took the news well. In fact, she wasn’t even that surprised. “I always wondered why I was nothing like Daddy,” she said with a sniff. “It’s kind of a relief to know we’re not related.”
She called Mrs. Richards to tell the older woman what we’d discovered. Mrs. Richards had said nothing except that Lizzie should come to her apartment at two p.m.
Evan and Hunter joined me. Lizzie needed an attorney present, and of course, Evan went wherever Hunter did.
My trepidation grew as my gut told me it wasn’t going to go well with Mrs. Richards. I tried to focus my second sense, but all I felt was a fuzzy aura of danger.
Lizzie was sure it would be her happy ending.
Hunter carried the Italian leather briefcase he used to impress clients. I knew there were a stack of legal pads inside, but hopefully Mrs. Richards would think it was full of papers meant to cause her many problems if she made things difficult for Lizzie. I wondered if the older woman would have her own lawyer present.
Another black limo pulled up on the street and before the driver could get to the door, Lizzie popped out and ran over to embrace me so hard I stumbled back. Evan easily caught my weight and steadied me. As usual, that annoyed me.
“I’m so excited,” Lizzie said. “I feel like we’re going to learn the truth today.”
I tried to calm her down. “Don’t get your hopes up. She may stonewall us again. I’m afraid you’re in for a big letdown if your expectations are too high.”
Her face became serious. “I understand what you’re trying to say, Zoe, but I refuse to believe the woman can get out of this. In fact, she called me back after you left and we talked for a while.”
I was dismayed. What was the older woman trying to pull?
The doorman found us on his list and sent us on our way after calling the apartment. Lizzie chattered nervously, causing Hunter to keep looking at me over her head and rolling his eyes.
When the maid answered, her face was pale and drawn and her voice edgy as she said in heavily-accented English, “Come in, please.”
I automatically put my hand in front of Lizzie before she crossed the threshold. “Are you all right, ma’am?” I asked.
She looked over her shoulder, dark eyes wide. Douglas Howerton stepped into the foyer. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
He held a small handgun with a silencer. It was pointed at the maid’s head. “Why don’t all of you come inside so I don’t have to splatter this little woman’s blood all over the wallpaper,” Howerton said.
I didn’t think it was possible for the maid to get any paler, but her skin lost all color.
We moved en masse, including Evan, whom I could see in my peripheral vision. We were both armed. If we could get an opening, maybe we could take down Howerton.
“Now, Miss Buchanan, please put that nasty gun that you so proudly keep with you on the floor,” Howerton said.
Guess I shouldn’t have been so eager to show it off.
I took my gun out, holding it with two fingers and laid it at my feet.
“Uh-huh,” Howerton said with a smirk. “Let’s put it inside the vase. Out of sight, out of mind.”
He pointed to a large cloisonné vase in the corner of the foyer. I took a step and deposited my gun on the bottom, noting there was no dust. I hoped Howerton didn’t hurt the maid; she was obviously good at her job.
“Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re carrying too. Let’s have them.” His hand on the gun was steady.
“Not me.” Hunter raised his hands so his jacket would open. “I’m always afraid I’ll shoot myself.”
Howerton moved to cover Evan, who undid his ankle holster and put his gun in the vase with mine.
We went further into the room as Howerton backed up. An elderly woman I assumed was Mrs. Richards sat in a French Chippendale chair with her arms duct-taped to its arms.
“Will you please remove this tape from this chair?” she snapped. “I’m sure it’s ruining the fabric and this is a priceless antique!”
I fel
t better. She was doing fine, more concerned about her antique chair than herself. Lizzie ran forward. Evan grabbed her when she got close to Howerton’s gun.
“Daddy, what are you doing? Put that stupid gun away. How did you get one anyway? Aren’t guns illegal in New York City?”
Howerton frowned at her. “My chauffeur has connections. You can get whatever you need in the city.”
“Look,” Lizzie tried again. “We came to talk with Mrs. Richards about something important. I don’t understand why you’re here. Please, Daddy, don’t do this.”
Her eyes were filled with tears as he indicated she should sit on the sofa;
I pushed Lizzie ahead of me and took a seat beside her. Evan and Hunter opted for chairs, spreading the group so Howerton had to keep his gaze moving. The maid stood behind Mrs. Richards. Her loyalty was admirable if not stupid.
“I must insist you remove this tape,” Mrs. Richards said. “Douglas, I never would have called if I had thought you’d do something like this.”
“You called him?” Lizzie said, shocked. “Why in the world would you do such a thing?”
“I thought between us we could talk sense into you and keep this nonsense private.” Mrs. Richard huffed. “Please, Douglas, it’s obvious I’m frail and not able to hurt you. I don’t want my furniture ruined.”
“Please, Daddy,” Lizzie said. “Let me take the tape off.”
“Oh, all right. If it’ll shut the old hag up.”
He pointed the gun at Hunter. “You get the tape off and then sit in the chair beside her.”
Hunter did as asked, though it took a while to remove the tape without damaging the older woman’s delicate skin. She rubbed her wrists and winced in pain as Hunter tossed the tape to the floor.
I was watching Hunter and Evan. If there was a chance to take the fat, sweating Howerton down, they would do it. It was obvious the older man was agitated. He wasn’t holding the gun as steady now. Of course, with this many people in a room he was bound to hit one or more of us if he started firing.
Holding Lizzie in place with my arm across her waist I decided to draw first blood and get this showdown on the road. “Have you always known Lizzie wasn’t your daughter?” I asked him.
“Of course,” he retorted.
“What do you know about my sister?” Lizzie demanded.
“Good God in heaven. Why couldn’t you let this drivel about your sister go?” He waved the gun from Lizzie to me. “Then you got involved, Miss Buchanan. That just made it worse because Lizzie had someone to listen to her ravings. I offered you a hundred thousand dollars, and all you did was show me your gun and spout some garbage about Lizzie being your client. Isn’t it obvious the girl’s not all there?”
“You’re being awful,” Lizzie said. “The truth was bound to come out.”
“No, it wasn’t, little girl. All I needed to do was keep this old bat from ruining what chance I had of getting back on my feet. If you all had come five minutes later, I’d have shut her up for good and been gone. I would have destroyed the proof of your sister, and got my share of that foolish will of your mother’s.”
Hunter and Evan were on the edges of their seats. I pulled Howerton’s attention back to me. “I don’t know why you thought killing Mrs. Richards would make any difference. Lizzie knows the truth.”
“Shut up!” he yelled and poked the cold barrel against my cheek. “Now I’m showing you my gun.” He jabbed it roughly against my skin. “And I’m going to use it if things don’t go my way.”
Evan stood. Howerton flipped the gun around and fired. Though there was no sound, a small figurine shattered on a shelf above Evan’s head.
“My God, that was a hand-painted, nineteenth-century Meissen!” Ms. Richards exclaimed.
Howerton kept the gun on Evan and backed up to a small table beside Mrs. Richards’ chair. He picked up the roll of duct tape and tossed it to me. “Tape their hands together.”
I guess I didn’t move quickly enough because he fired the gun at the wall behind me. Plaster flew through the air. “Do it now or the next one goes into somebody’s knee.”
I went to Evan first. He held his hands out and I began wrapping them with the silver tape.
“What are you doing?” I asked Howerton as I pulled the tape loosely around Evan’s wrists. “Are you going to kill all of us? You know you can’t—”
“I can do whatever I like,” Howerton screamed. “I’m in charge here. Now finish what you’re doing and sit back down.”
I moved across the room to Hunter, who watched Howerton like a cat stalking prey. He didn’t move as I bound his wrists with plenty of room to spare. His eyes never left the older man.
“Please don’t do this,” Lizzie said. “I’ll give you all the money you want. Just stop this. Mother always told me you were crazy, but I never saw it.”
“Shut up!” He fired once again though his shot went wide and to the left. “You insignificant little bitch. I put up with you and your stupid cow of a mother for all these years. She finally died but still found a way to screw me. All I needed was a few million to get back on my feet and now I’ve got to beg you for that.”
I looked at Hunter, hoping he’d interject something, but he was still focused on Howerton and looked ready to pounce. Evan was working with the tape on his wrists. I needed to keep Howerton distracted.
“There’s no way you’ll get away with this,” I said.
He gave a shrill laugh. “It’s just a little secret. It’s not even important. It was a tiny deception to keep things happy for her majesty Camilla. She had her babies and everything was okay.”
“Babies?” Lizzie said, her face going paler.
“Ah, goddammit.” He rubbed his face. “You’ve upset me and I’m not even thinking straight.”
“Why don’t you put down the gun and we’ll—” I said.
“Keep your stupid, bitchy mouth shut and let me think.” He fired the gun into the wall above my head. White flakes rained down on Lizzie and me.
Mrs. Richards shrieked and I pushed Lizzie down to protect her. The maid crumpled to the floor. If Howerton kept this up, at least he might run out of ammunition.
Evan stood and Hunter jumped, but Howerton was ready. He held his gun with both hands, aimed at Hunter’s chest. “Sit down.”
Lizzie started to move toward the maid, but Howerton stopped her. “Stay where you are. She’ll be fine. At least that’s one I don’t have to worry about.”
Everyone was quiet. Howerton jerked the gun on Mrs. Richards. “You’re the one I need to get rid of.”
I had to give it to the old girl; she didn’t even flinch. “Why kill me now? She already knows most of it.”
“Stupid little cunt.” Howerton swung the gun back to Lizzie.
She jerked like he’d slapped her.
“What difference does it make now, Douglas?” Mrs. Richards asked. “It’s over. There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Yes, there is!” Howerton screamed.
I looked at Hunter and was surprised to see his hand was covered with fur and claws. In a second the tape was ripped and his hand was human again.
Then Hunter lunged at the older man. The two of them landed on the fragile table, which broke apart like matchsticks. The gun fired and Mrs. Richards fell forward, blood seeping through the fingers of the hand she put on her shoulder. Evan went to her, pressing his bound hands against her wound.
I pushed Lizzie down. Hunter was on top of Howerton, who pressed the gun into Hunter’s face. I looked across the room, wondering if I had time to get to my gun.
Lizzie was sobbing now. Evan was shielding Mrs. Richards. Her blood was dripping to the floor.
Hunter held the older man down with his knees. He looked at me with questioning eyes and I knew what he wanted to do. I nodded and pulled my arms tighter around Lizzie. Evan covered Mrs. Richards.
The air crackled as Hunter changed into a cougar, his lethal teeth shining in the older man’s face. Then
Hunter quickly changed back to human.
Howerton froze. Hunter snatched the gun and cracked it against the side of Howerton’s head. The beefy man grunted and fell unconscious.
I let Lizzie up and stood. She walked across the room and looked down at the unconscious older man. When I turned back, Mrs. Richards was sitting up with Evan’s white handkerchief pressed against her collarbone.
The maid was rousing as I yanked the tape off Evan’s wrists. As soon as I freed him, Evan went back to Mrs. Richards. I hurried to the maid as Evan laid the elderly woman on the couch. When the maid saw her mistress, she pushed me aside and rushed to help.
“They’ve destroyed my New York Stand, Constanza,” Mrs. Richards wailed, looking at the rubble of the table underneath Howerton’s wide back.
“They saved your life,” Constanza chastised the woman as she would a child. “Mr. Richards will find you another table.”
The old woman laughed, a faintly hysterical sound that brought us back to reality. Evan called 911 while Hunter bound Howerton’s hands and ankles with the duct tape.
The maid hurried to get a blanket while I retrieved the guns from the vase. I holstered mine and handed Evan his. Lizzie still stared down at Howerton. .
“Miss Howerton,” Mrs. Richards said. “Please come here so I can talk to you before the police get here. I’m sure they’ll take me to the hospital, and you need the truth.”
Constanza came in and tucked the blanket around her mistress and then hurried to the kitchen muttering about tea. I suspected she needed something to do.
The story wasn’t complicated. Douglas Howerton paid Charles Hayden to guarantee Camilla became pregnant. Howerton’s sperm count was too low, a little fact he neglected to tell the very rich Camilla before they married. Hayden used sperm from a young doctor who worked at the clinic.
“Dr. Blake Taylor,” I said.
Mrs. Richards didn’t flinch. She turned to Lizzie. “You may pursue the question of your paternity if you want. I can tell you that the doctors thought they were participating in fertility studies when they donated their sperm. Charles had them believing everything they were told in exchange for the chance to practice with him. They had a great mentor. And lots of women had babies.”
