The Stepchild

by Joanne Fluke

  “He’s gone. My Baver’s gone! The bad people came to take him away!”

  He could still hear the childish voice, high and thin with fear, and he shivered in spite of the warm room. David knew his insistence that Kathi see the college doctor was purely academic. He really didn’t think that her problem was physical, but it was a first step. After they’d eliminated the possible physical causes, perhaps she’d be more cooperative about sharing her thoughts and feelings with him. Kathi was a very private person, and that made it even more difficult for David to know her secret fears, the same fears that must be causing her nightmares.

  It took all the self-control David had to hold her quietly. He wanted to get up and pace the floor, have a cigarette or belt down a drink, anything to stop the thoughts from forming in his mind. At first, Kathi’s nightmares had been only bad dreams, an occasional awakening in the middle of the night with the traces of tears still on her cheeks. She had laughed about them the next morning.

  He hadn’t even known about them at first. She’d been able to wake up on her own, sit up in bed and make sure that she was right here in their own room, and then go back to sleep. She’d confessed that only a few days ago. Now all that was changing. The nightmares were becoming more frequent and more intense. It had taken almost two minutes to wake her tonight. What would happen if he couldn’t wake her at all the next time?

  He forced himself to relax his tight muscles. He could sweat out the night hypothesizing, but it wouldn’t do any good. They had to discover the cause of Kathi’s nightmares. If only she could remember them, they might have a clue. At least the doctor was the logical place to start. And after that . . . he’d just have to think of something.

  David cursed himself for being so helpless. He looked at Kathi, so small and fragile under the covers. He had to protect her . . . see that she got the proper care no matter what the problem was. She had entrusted herself to him, and it was up to him to keep her from harm. He’d accepted that responsibility when he first told her that he loved her.

  Carefully, he untangled Kathi’s arms from his neck and slid noiselessly under the blankets, cuddling her spoon-fashion until the sound of her quiet breathing lulled him into a restless sleep.

  CHAPTER 3

  “He said there’s nothing to worry about. It’s probably just anxiety about midterms,” Kathi said clearly, forcing her voice to sound cheerful as she spoke into the phone. “He told me that when the tension lets up, the nightmares ought to disappear. If they don’t, I’m to come in again after midterm break.”

  Kathi’s face turned pink as she listened to David’s anxious reply.

  “Yes . . . of course I told him everything, and you were right about the pills, David. He gave me something to take every morning, and I’m getting the prescription filled right now.”

  After a slight pause, Kathi nodded, even though she knew that David couldn’t see the nod. She could picture him pacing at the end of the telephone cord, back and forth across the gray-carpeted living room, while he talked. David was a pacer and a telephone cord twister. She could hear the tiny crackling noise in the receiver as he twisted the cord in his fingers.

  “Yes, I’m relieved too,” she said, her face hot with the lie she had told. A truck sped past the telephone booth and she leaned forward, hugging the receiver tightly so she could hear David’s voice. She wished that she could tell him the rest of it—how she’d used Bev Smith’s ID card to make the appointment and what the doctor had really said—but that was her secret, another secret she had to keep from David.

  “Well, Miss Smith . . .” The doctor had cleared his throat. “It’s a bit early, but we can take a blood test and see what happens. Pregnancy is definitely indicated. Nausea, headaches, a sudden weight loss . . . all quite common complaints in early pregnancy. I’ll give you something to relax you for a few days, and you can call in on Wednesday for the test results. If your pregnancy is confirmed, I’ll refer you to an organization on campus for young women in your situation.”

  Kathi nodded again, staring through the glass door at the items arranged for display in the drugstore window. David would want to get married right away if she told him, but she wanted to wait and make sure. It wasn’t the best way to start a marriage, and nothing could be done until after the election anyway. U.S. SENATE CANDIDATE’S DAUGHTER MARRIED IN SHOTGUN WEDDING. That would ruin her father’s campaign for sure.

  And what if her other fears were true? The dark fears she had pushed back for so long? What then? Would David still want to marry her if he knew that?

  “Hmmmmmm?” Kathi asked, missing David’s question entirely, as her gaze rested on an advertisement for the new sporting good shop opening next door. “Oh, yes, honey . . . I’ll be home just as soon as my prescription’s ready.”

  She quickly replaced the phone in the cradle, fumbling a bit because her eyes were still fixed on the poster in the vacant storefront. WALKER SPORTING GOODS. Walker . . . Walker . . . the letters swam in front of her eyes, and a blinding pain made her clutch her head in both hands. A prickle of fear ran down her spine.

  * * *

  The tapping had been going on for some time. Kathi blinked as she saw a man and a woman waiting to use the phone. How long had she been standing here?

  At first the man looked angry that she was just standing there with her palms pressed to her temples, and then his forehead wrinkled in a distressed frown. Her vision blurred, and she could see the two of them receding into a tunnel, as if she were looking the wrong way through a set of binoculars. The man’s voice was weak and faraway sounding, like a record played at the wrong speed.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  “Can I help you . . . help you . . . help you?”

  “No, I can do it myself, Auntie! Please . . . let me do it all! I can do it right. I know I can!”

  It was kind of him to be so helpful. His handkerchief was crooked. It was the kind cleaners provide when they press a suit—a pocket-size piece of white cardboard with the cleaner’s name on it, and a bit of white linen sewn on top to simulate a handkerchief. When the cardboard was properly positioned, only the folded linen edge was visible, and there was an instant handkerchief in the pocket, exactly what every well-dressed man should have.

  Kathi gave the man a little smile. If he had to blow his nose, it would be difficult with a cardboard handkerchief. Then she reached out to open the door and smiled again to let him know that she was just fine. Her mouth opened and words came out, words she had never heard or even thought before.

  “Walker, Sheri Walker. W-A-L-K-E-R. She taught me how to make the letters. My growed-up name is Sharon Elizabeth Walker, but nobody calls me that unless I do something naughty, and I live at four-oh-two Elm. I did that good, didn’t I? Auntie says I will be very good in first grade!”

  “Miss?” the man asked again. “Are you all right, Miss?”

  The woman pulled her companion aside as Kathi stepped out of the phone booth.

  “Hippies!” she hissed. “Probably high on something! There ought to be a law, Herbert!”

  Kathi wanted to protest. She hadn’t said that! Someone else had spoken through her mouth, and now the nice, helpful man was frowning and looking at her suspiciously, his face a mask of disapproval. But Kathi was afraid to open her mouth again, for fear that other voice would come out and say even more outrageous things. She clamped her jaws tightly shut and hurried past them, her head pounding fiercely.

  She could feel them staring at her as she rushed into the drugstore, sank gratefully down on a luncheonette stool, and ordered a glass of water from the tired-looking waitress. Her head hurt dreadfully, and she pressed her hands tightly against her temples again, closing her eyes with the pain. What had made her say a silly thing like that? Was she dreaming again?

  “Hey, honey. Want a couple of aspirins?” the waitress asked, leaning over to wipe the counter. “He gets ’em free, you know. Those big drug companies give him a ten thousand-count bottle with every orde
r. You look like you’ve got a beaut coming on.”

  “Oh, yes, thank you,” Kathi mumbled, accepting the aspirins that the waitress shook out into her hand. She gave a little laugh even though she felt more like crying. “I’ve been studying too hard, I guess.”

  “I know just what you mean,” the waitress commented, shifting her weight to one hip and leaning on her hand holding the cloth. “My brother-in-law’s the same way. Stays up all night studying and then he expects to work all day besides. They say an education’s important, but my sister don’t think so. She has to keep the kids quiet while he studies. You know they can’t even have the TV on when he’s reading? He’s depriving them kids, that’s what he’s doing!”

  Kathi nodded, making an effort to listen through the pounding in her head. She had to hurry and pick up her prescription before her headache got worse. It was beginning to feel like another migraine, and all she wanted to do was go home and crawl under the covers in her own bed. The waitress was trying to be nice, but Kathi wanted to scream at her to shut up . . . to leave her alone so she could finish the glass of water and get her pills. She had told David that everything was fine, and somehow she had to keep up that charade. But nothing was fine now.

  Kathi didn’t notice the waitress’s shocked expression as she got up in midsentence and went to the pharmacy counter to pick up her pills.

  The cold air outside helped a bit, but her head was still reeling, and she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, stopping and waiting at the traffic lights, and walking in a straight line, so some passing policeman wouldn’t think she was high on drugs or drunk. Was this what it felt like to go crazy? Were they going to find her right here on the Berkeley campus, with the carefully landscaped grounds and the tall, familiar multiwindowed buildings, and lock her up?

  And who—she had to know—who was Sheri Walker?

  CHAPTER 4

  “I think we’ve got it in the bag!” Harry Adams shouted exuberantly, slapping Doug on the back. “Jake Roman promised me that he’d support you for the campaign. You know what that means, Doug? With Jake’s support, we’ll pull in all the Republican voters that supported him!”

  Doug laughed in excitement. That really was good news! He had hoped that Jake would support him, but it had been a long shot. Jake was retiring this year after twelve years in the Senate, two full terms which had made him very popular with the voters. The people of California respected his name and his voting record. If Jake’s support was certain, Doug had the race all but won.

  “That’s great!” Doug exclaimed, hugging his short, balding campaign manager. “You worked a miracle, Harry. I still don’t know how you did it.”

  “Let’s just say that your perfect record convinced him,” Harry replied, winking. There were some things you didn’t come right out and admit to a moral man like Doug Ellison. There was quite a bit of under-the-table dealing in any election. Harry knew that Doug didn’t approve, but it couldn’t be helped. The less Doug knew about his talk with Jake Roman this morning, the better.

  Harry’s mind reviewed the interview in detail. One of his unimpeachable sources had told him about Keith Baxter’s wife. There was positive proof that the opponent’s wife had spent a summer, twelve years ago, drying out in a private sanitarium in Oregon. Harry knew that Doug would never stoop to using that information to his own advantage. Doug was an honest man, and politicians who were honest lost votes. It was as simple as that. What Harry discovered about Mrs. Baxter would never have been used to Doug’s advantage if it weren’t for Harry’s little meeting this morning. If Doug even guessed how Harry had got the information, he’d be livid. He knew for a fact that Doug would fire him if he ever found out about the private detective Harry had hired.

  Harry grinned, unabashed. His fancy maneuvering had paid off. Doug would never find out why Jake was suddenly endorsing him instead of Keith Baxter. That would be Harry’s secret. He was a smart campaign manager, and there was a hell of a lot he left unsaid. If Doug thought that Jake had finally realized his virtues, so much the better.

  At least there weren’t any skeletons in Doug’s closet. Harry had checked that carefully. He had gone over his employer’s life in minute detail, not taking anything for granted, examining even the most trivial-appearing fact. He had accounted for almost every waking moment of Doug’s life, from birth to the present, and there was no hint of any scandal. It was hard to believe that a man could be such a paragon of virtue, but Doug seemed to fit that description completely. At first, Harry didn’t believe it. He tried to dig up some dirt, any dirt that could be thrown at his boss. There was absolutely nothing. Harry still couldn’t believe it, but Doug had never been in any trouble, and his family was perfect. Kathi was a model student and Vivian, a perfect wife. Even the former Mrs. Ellison had come from a very good family.

  At first, Harry was a bit leery about Doug’s second marriage. It might be a little incriminating to marry one’s secretary. There weren’t even any rumors about that though. Doug had waited a full year after Roma’s death before he had married Vivian. That was proper. Vivian had been an excellent mother for Kathi, too. There was nothing out of the way in Doug and Vivian’s relationship. Doug’s whole life read like a storybook of a successful, hardworking, professional man. He was a self-made man from humble beginnings, the perfect image for today’s voter.

  Harry had shrugged when he got the results of the investigation on Doug’s life. He was a born skeptic. Perhaps that was why he was so well suited for his job. Campaign managers learned never to take anything at face value. Harry dug into every corner. He regarded himself as a judge with one strange twist. Doug was investigated like a criminal, guilty until proven innocent.

  Now, after long months of research, Harry had found nothing to color Doug’s perfect record. He was a dream candidate, but Harry found it difficult to believe in dreams. He couldn’t help but feel that there must be a flaw somewhere, something he hadn’t dug into thoroughly enough. He still had men working on it. It might be a shot in the dark, but he wasn’t quite satisfied. There was bound to be a scandal somewhere, something that might jeopardize Doug’s campaign. It was up to him to find it before the opponent did. He had to protect Doug from any mudslinging, and the only way to do that was to know exactly what kind of thing the opponent would use, pick up on it, and whitewash it first.

  “You’re pretty quiet for a guy who’s just managed to get the campaign in the bag,” Doug chuckled, snapping his fingers under Harry’s nose.

  “You know me,” Harry responded sourly. “I’m never sure of anything until the last ballot’s been cast and the counting’s over. Even then, I don’t relax until you’re declared the winner. I may have flashes of confidence, but they disappear in a hurry when my brain engages.”

  Doug laughed at Harry’s cryptic comment. “You’re a born pessimist, Harry. No one can ever accuse you of counting your chickens before they’re hatched.”

  Harry smiled ruefully. “That’s just the way I am,” he offered philosophically. “I just wish I knew what dirt the opponent will dig up about you. It would help if we got a lead on what tack they’re going to take. How about it, Doug? Are you sure there’s nothing in your record that they can pick up on? Think it over carefully now. Is there anything that you’ve done in the past you wouldn’t want anyone to know? A traffic ticket that’s been fixed? Maybe a maiden aunt who ended up in the funny farm? Anything at all?”

  Doug held up his hands in a gesture of submission. “You know my life even better than I do.” He smiled. “As far as I know, there’s nothing that’s not a matter of public record. No old bodies buried under my front porch, Harry. I know you’d love to have something to worry about, but I honestly can’t think of a thing you don’t already know.”

  “How about Kathi, Doug?” Harry continued relentlessly. “Is there anything about Kathi that the opposition might pick up on? A boyfriend who’s not quite her type? A little pot party, or anything like that?”

 
; Doug’s normally ruddy face flushed deep red. “Don’t bring Kathi into this,” he snapped. “She has nothing to do with it. Kathi’s life isn’t being questioned here. My record is all that counts!”

  Harry sighed. He knew he’d better back off a little. Doug was pretty sensitive when it came to Kathi and Vivian.

  “I’m sorry, boss,” Harry said to placate his angry employer. “You know Keith Baxter fights dirty. I just need to get the jump on him. If there’s anything about Kathi that he might use, I’d better know it now.”

  Doug sighed. Harry probed so deeply into his private life that sometimes he felt like he was on trial. He knew that was why Harry was so good, but it still irritated him, even though Harry had given him plenty of warning.

  Doug remembered their first interview. He, as nervous as the first time he’d accepted a case, and Harry, hard-bitten and inscrutable.

  “Yeah. I’ll take it,” Harry muttered, squinting intently at Doug. “I’m warning you though. If I’m your campaign manager, I’m going to be even closer than your conscience. If you’re not going to level with me on everything, you’d better find someone else right now.”

  Of course, Doug had hired Harry. Harry Adams was a winner. He’d never handled a candidate who didn’t make it. Harry was right though. He was closer to Doug than his own conscience. Sometimes Doug felt as if Harry knew everything about him. He wouldn’t be surprised if Harry knew precisely what he’d had for breakfast this morning and exactly how many minutes it had taken him to shave.

  Doug shifted a bit in his chair. This kind of thinking was only irritating him further, but he managed to smile pleasantly, with great effort.

  “I really don’t think there’s anything about Kathi that Baxter could use,” Doug said haltingly. “I hate to admit it, Harry, but Kathi and I haven’t been too close ever since she moved to Berkeley. I know she’d tell me if she got into any trouble though.” He flashed Harry a searching glance. “I’m sure you’ve found out everything about Kathi’s life, Harry. I hear that your men are remarkably thorough. Maybe you’d better tell me about my daughter. What’s she doing lately, Harry? Anything I should worry about?”