“Not long. Come to Albuquerque right away. It’s an hour drive from Santa Fe. If she’s discharged before you get there, my man will follow her, stay with her, but not apprehend.” Preston gave Dan the contact information. “Get briefed and make contact with Ashley. Tell her whatever you think will work to get her to come back to Florida. Just remember that the P.I. Welton hired is aping everything that we do, so be on the lookout for interference.”
“What if Ashley doesn’t want to see me?”
“Convince her,” Preston said. “Meantime, I’m on my way. Can’t get out of Texas fast enough.”
Ashley and Ruthie sat at the kitchen table sipping green tea and munching cheese and crackers. Ashley’s miscarriage would not prevent her from having more children. A blood test confirmed that the fetus had indeed been Rh-positive, and Ashley had been given the injection. She hadn’t needed a D&C, but she’d lost a lot of blood and the doctor recommended a transfusion. Ashley decided against it. Her red cells would regenerate. Ruthie agreed.
The women discussed their residencies, one aborted, one prospering. Their thoughts and plans were interrupted by the doorbell.
Ashley cringed. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.” She hadn’t yet broached the subject of Conrad, or why she had fled New York City.
“Okay,” said Ruthie. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”
The sliding chain engaged, Ruthie opened her door just a crack.
“Dr. Campbell, I’m Dan Parnell, Ashley’s brother. Can I come in?”
“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Ruthie said, keeping her voice low. “I’m kind of busy now, and I’m not feeling well. I had to take the day off.”
“I know that my sister is here,” Dan said. “Will you tell her that it’s important? You see, she may be in danger.”
“Dan?” Ashley joined Ruthie and peeked through the crack in the opening. Her hand raked her dark, short hair. Would he even recognize her?
“Ashley, can I come in?” he repeated. He stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him. Glancing around the small studio apartment, he headed for the windows, drawing the curtains closed. Then, tears glistening in his eyes, he opened his arms and pulled Ashley into a tight embrace.
“I’m sorry about the baby,” Dan said as they drew apart. “But I’m so glad that you’re alive.”
Ashley clung to Dan. Her brother, always so remote, now a lifeline to her family. She remembered how sensitive he’d been the day of their father’s funeral, and here he was tearful, yet so strong against her body. Dan drew her onto the sofa that would later convert to Ruthie’s bed. They sat for a moment, silent, as he stroked her short, boyish hair.
Ruthie excused herself to make more tea. Something terrible was happening in this iconic family; she still did not know what.
“I am mortified about what I did,” Ashley said. “I was so scared of Conrad. What he might do to the baby. That’s why I ran when I got the chance. But now that I miscarried, I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m here to help you, Ashley. The family knows about Welton, about his background. You were right to be frightened. Everyone will be overjoyed that you’re alive.”
“Rory,” Ashley said, “what about Rory? I abandoned her. Selfishly abandoned her by running away.”
“No, no, that’s not true,” Dan said, holding her hands in his. “You were pregnant. You were very brave. Of all people, Rory will understand.”
“How is she?” There is was, the awful question.
“Not doing well. There’s been resistance to the chemo. I can’t give you all the medical details, but I know from talking to Chan that the situation is dire.”
Ashley sat up straight. “She needs that bone marrow transplant. I’ve got to get to Philadelphia now.”
“She’s not in Philly; she’s on Longboat Key. Chan moved the family there. I was going to suggest that we go there tomorrow morning. It’s Thanksgiving and what more could we be thankful for than finding you alive?”
“Could we go tonight?” Ashley asked, reaching to pick up her purse. “Now?”
“Logistics,” Dan said, pulling out a cell phone. “Jack Preston, a private investigator, is flying in on the family plane. I’ll coordinate with him. I’m thinking that first thing tomorrow is more feasible. In the meantime, we’re arranging for round-the-clock security here.”
Ruthie returned with a tray of steaming mugs.
“Ruthie, is it okay if I stay here with you tonight?” Ashley asked. “I have so much to tell you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Frank grinned at Elise’s excitement as she dove into her luggage, searching for her bathing suit, anxious to join the Stevens kids in the pool. The weather was Florida perfect. Sunny skies. Eighty degrees.
Why would anyone want to live up north, Frank considered, as he changed into shorts and a golf shirt. Leo Tally’s voice came over the intercom. “Senator, will you pick up? It’s Mr. Dan. Says it’s important.”
“Frank, we’ve found Ashley.” Frank listened as Dan described the circumstances and suggested that he and Jack Preston leave with her for Longboat Key. That Gina and Terry join them there. Then the whole family would be together.
“She’s okay?”
“She really wanted that baby. But now she’s dedicated to helping Rory.”
“Can’t get here too soon. Rory looks deathly ill. Sorry for the word choice there.”
Frank thought of Elise, of how he would have to bring her up with no mother. The memory of his dad, when his mother died, how remote his father had been. Frank wondered whether Dan had felt the same sting of neglect. His own future was Elise, and he resolved to be a concerned father and to make sure she stayed close to her noisy cousins since that gave her great comfort. For the first time ever, he thought smugly, he had all their names straight. Elise had rehearsed him.
“Whoops, I’ve got a call coming in,” Frank said, glancing at the number.
“Probably George W., calling for advice. I’ll see you tomorrow in Florida.”
Dan disconnected and Frank picked up the other line, recognizing the Detroit area code. His uncle had looked so frail at Meredith’s funeral. But the caller was Carl Schiller, not the cardinal.
“I’m in Detroit on business, Frank, and I’m having dinner with your uncle tonight. He’s going to ask me about the family so I thought I’d call you. Surprised, I must say, that you’re in Florida.”
The old man must think I’m down here earning points for Dad’s test. The thought made Frank grin. Nothing could be further from the truth. Since Meredith’s death, he had wasted not one iota of time fantasizing about his political future. That dream had died with Meredith. Whoever got Dad’s millions, so be it.
“Carl, we have wonderful news. You’ll find it hard to believe.”
“You have my attention.”
“Ashley’s alive. I just got off the phone with Dan, who’s with her. She’s okay, but she lost the baby—miscarriage.”
Frank briefed Carl. He plumped up the pillows on the bed and relayed the whole story of Conrad’s background, including the suspicions that swirled around his family and his former wife. Much of it Carl knew.
“How can I get in touch with Ashley?” Carl asked. “And how do you plan to handle the media once they find out she’s alive. Will there be any political backlash?”
Frank wanted to say, “who gives a fuck?” Without Meredith, he didn’t care about the media or even about publicity. But he would honor her stance on obscenity. “As for the media, I haven’t even thought about it. I just want Ashley back here safe and sound.” Ready to end the conversation, he said, “When you see Cardinal Sean tonight, give him my best.”
When Frank hung up, he did a mental inventory. Ashley had just been located. Who had to be informed? Uncle Carl and Cardinal Sean were covered. Dan and Gina, ditto. He’d let Matt and Carrie know as soon as they arrived from Washington. That left Terry, Elise, and the Stevens, all ten of them. Was he missing anyone
? Yes, Monica Monroe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Ashley and Ruthie woke early on Thanksgiving morning despite having slept little. They’d talked all night about their lives, and what would happen next. Ruthie from inner-city Baltimore, a neighborhood where not even the police ventured. Ashley from the exclusive Philadelphia Main Line. Ruthie listened to Ashley’s account of how she was determined to help Rory before, like Carla, it was too late. When Ashley got around to telling Ruthie about Conrad, she did not hold back; she poured out all her fears and suspicions. Ruthie said nothing to dissuade her of her concerns.
Jack and Dan had arranged to pick Ashley up at nine a.m. The family plane would then fly them directly to Sarasota. By afternoon, Ashley would be reunited with her family. One minute she felt elation; the next, a surge of guilt. She hadn’t breached the implications of her disappearance. Had she broken the law by running away? And would she do it again if it meant escape from Conrad? The hardest question: what would happen if she had to face Conrad alone?
When Preston and Dan arrived, Preston handed Ashley a shopping bag. “Here’s something to wear.”
Ashley pulled out a large-brimmed black hat and a pair of oversized dark glasses.
“Camouflage,” he said, “just in case we have followers.”
“Conrad?” Ashley felt herself start to sweat.
“Not to worry, we’ll be on the lookout. Once we get you into your family’s compound, you’ll be safe. Never seen security like that place.”
When Ashley and Ruthie hugged good-bye, Preston’s eyes kept sweeping the outside perimeter.
Welton flipped open his cell phone. He’d been pacing, awaiting the call from his investigator.
“Crane here,” the voice confirmed. “Something’s going down, doc. They’ve got the girl. Preston and Dan Parnell. They’re heading for the airport.”
“Stay with them. Find out where they’re headed.”
Welton took a deep breath. He had to control his breathing. Hyper-ventilation made his heart beat more wildly. His hand was steady when he picked up the phone and placed a call to Terry Parnell’s cell phone. Through the Parnell family debacle, he’d remained on friendly terms with the boy in order to glean information about the Parnells in general, and Ashley in particular. Now that the Parnells knew where Ashley was and, in fact, had her in their custody, Terry might know the plan.
“Terry, it’s Conrad.” Conrad listened for any negativity, but detected none.
“Conrad, I’m so glad you called. We’ve found Ashley. Did you know?”
“Yes, she’s been trying to get in touch,” he lied.
“Well, she’s on her way here. You were right all along. Posttraumatic stress syndrome. I mean, buildings crumbling down. People jumping out of windows. Body parts. People buried alive—”
“Washington?” Welton interrupted. Senators had bunkers in the bowels of the D.C. buildings, didn’t they? If they’d taken Ashley there, it was the worst possible scenario. Welton’s heart began to flip in his chest.
“No, Longboat Key, Florida. Dad’s picking her up in Albuquerque, and they’re flying into Sarasota. We’ll all be there. You ought to be there, too, man.”
“She needs time alone with her family,” Welton said once he’d taken a reassuring breath. “I’ll see her soon enough.” He disconnected, and without putting down the handset, called the airport to charter a plane to Sarasota. Expensive, but soon the money would no longer be a problem and he’d own a jet. By the time Crane called with the Parnell flight plan, Welton was halfway to the Philadelphia airport. With any luck he’d arrive in Florida before Ashley.
Even before Monica Monroe had won her first talent contest at age twelve, she’d been a member of Cardinal Sean Parnell’s cathedral choir, and continued to be a frequent soloist when she was in Detroit. Her parents were devout Catholics and it meant a lot to her father, especially since her mother’s death. So dutifully, as requested this time, she’d sung her favorite, Schubert’s “Ave Maria,” at the ten o’clock Thanksgiving Day Mass. Now, as the cardinal thanked her profusely, she was anxious to join Patrick, go home, and eat herself into oblivion.
“Is Patrick here?” the cardinal asked as she turned to leave.
“Waiting in the back with my brothers’ families. I guess I should get back to them. The usher mentioned you wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Could you step into the sacristy for a moment?” They closed the door just in time to avoid a group of parishioners who either wanted to kiss the Cardinal’s ring or to ask Monica for an autograph.
“I know you have family obligations,” Cardinal Parnell said. “But I have quite an extraordinary request.”
“Yes?” she asked, truly curious.
I talked to Carl Schiller yesterday.” His paper-thin, wrinkled face grimaced. “About Ashley.”
“About Ashley?” Monica’s eyebrows arched. She had only been with her biological half sister three times. Each time Ashley had seemed remote, detached.
“She’s alive,” he said in a whisper.
“My God,” Monica blurted. “I mean, my goodness. That’s wonderful.”
“Yes.” He bowed his head and made the sign of the cross.
“Where is she?”
Cardinal Parnell stood wringing his age-mottled hands. “She’s being taken to Florida,” he finally answered. “And I think that I should be there. And that brings me to my request. I was wondering if you could lend me the use of your aircraft?”
Monica was taken aback, and looked it.
“Your dad keeps bragging about your plane.” Cardinal Parnell looked uncomfortable. “How it can be ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
“Um…” Her pilots had the day off. “Let me check with Patrick and the pilots.” Monica punched the speed dial on her cell and left the sacristy. The cathedral was empty except for her family, her nephews clowning around the baptismal font. Quickly, she conferred with Patrick. No question, the cardinal could use the plane, but should they accompany him? They’d both noted how frail he’d looked on the altar. Ashley, alive, was big news, and maybe she could be of some help to the Parnells in this extraordinary circumstance. And while she was there, she could catch up with hot gossip about her niece Jenna and Terry Parnell.
“Dad, what do you think?” she asked, knowing how much having the family together for holidays meant to him.
“Yes, you should go.” Nick Monroe put his arms around Monica and Patrick. “We owe Cardinal Parnell so much.”
“Thank you, my children,” Cardinal Parnell said when Monica and Patrick returned with the good news. He bowed his head and gave them a blessing.
Monica knew she’d never get over the awe of being this man’s niece. She thought of Paul Parnell’s letter to her—“My request is that you share your identity with the Parnells . . . all I ask is that you embrace the family . . . even though, I’m not worthy, I am so proud of you. I pray that you can forgive me . . .”
She had renounced the money, but perhaps she could be helpful to the family.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Rory knew that something was going on. Something important. Why else would Frank be spending a holiday with them? He’d never made a secret about how he felt about her noisy kids. But now he seemed so genuinely caring. What was he up to? And what about Gina and Terry driving across the state for Thanksgiving? And Dan to join them later? Still, a nagging concern clouded this togetherness. Were they doing this for her, knowing this would be her last holiday? If so, she was pleased because she considered the effort a tribute. So much better to have her loved ones here while she was still alive. She grieved for Carla and Ashley and her parents, but took comfort in knowing she’d see them soon. Today, despite the gnawing pain in every bone and her exhaustion, she’d be thankful.
Rory got around mostly by wheelchair now, and just as she was wheeling herself into her dressing room, she heard the roar of an engine, followed by excited barking. From her bedroom window, she watc
hed two large dogs leap out of the back of a shiny red truck. Labs, one black, the other yellow. Beautiful dogs, but—Tyler was allergic. Before she could call Chan, nine kids, including Tyler, surrounded the animals. Maybe Tyler would be okay now that Chan had started him on allergy shots.
As Rory selected among her robes for something cheerful, she heard a tentative knock, and Gina asked, “Rory, is it okay if I come in?”
Gina walked in and the two women embraced. Rory was free of intravenous lines and feeding tubes, but down to ninety pounds. Gina, the picture of health, helped Rory select matching sandals and a festive scarf.
“You’re a very special person, Gina.” Rory’s voice was almost drowned out by boisterous kids and friendly barks. “Your dogs?”
“They come with Dan. Lucy and Lucky. They’re great with kids, so not to worry. Anyway, Terry’s out there to keep them in line, assisted by Carrie, Where Matt is these days, you’ll find my daughter.” Gina smiled. “I think they’re a super couple.”
“That’s great,” Rory said, a shadow crossing her hopeful spirit. Four daughters and she’d never see them develop romantic relationships. But they’d have Chan, she kept reminding herself.
“So,” Gina said, “let’s talk about today. Sounds like the Tallys have the dinner under control, so could I ask if we could all meet in the library in a little while for a discussion?”
“Why?” Rory asked. It had to be something about Dad’s trust. What else could they want to discuss? Of course, that was why Frank had come to Florida. He must have found a legal away around the test approach. “I don’t think I’m up to it,” she said. Money and property and wills and trusts were the last things she waned to discuss.
“Chan can sit in for me.”
“Rory, please, join us. It’s important.” Rory looked into Gina’s dark eyes and saw the crinkle of a smile. What was going on? Had the kids prepared some kind of performance and Gina was the adult sent to insure her presence?
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s face the music.”
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