The Stepchild

by Joanne Fluke

  Doug shut the door and walked steadily to the couch. He looked completely calm, but Vivian recognized the nearly imperceptible tightening at the corners of his mouth. Doug was sure that something was wrong, but he was going to remain composed until he found out exactly what it was.

  “I can see that something’s got you riled, Harry,” Doug remarked evenly. “Suppose you let us in on it, too?”

  “What the hell!” Harry sputtered. He stood in the middle of the floor, glaring fiercely at Doug.

  “I must have asked you a hundred times if there was anything in your past that the press could pick up on!” Harry exploded. “You just shook your head and said no, like some kind of fucking saint! Jesus H. Christ! Didn’t you know I’d find out about it? What kind of goddamned fool do you take me for?”

  Vivian watched Doug as the blood left his face. He was still composed, but she noticed that his hands had started to tremble. Doug was afraid, but he would brave it out.

  “You’d better tell me what you’re talking about, Harry,” Doug said calmly. “I don’t appreciate you coming here at this hour and waking us up with threats.”

  “You know exactly what the hell I’m talking about!” Harry yelled.

  “Sorry, Harry,” Doug said calmly, reaching for a cigarette. “It’s past midnight, and I don’t feel like playing guessing games. You’d better tell me why you’re so upset. It’s much too late for games like this.”

  Harry’s pacing stopped abruptly at Doug’s icy tones. For a second he wondered if he could be mistaken, but the proof was right in his briefcase. He had to admit a grudging respect for Doug, though. He was trying to brazen it out. The man was as cool as a cucumber.

  “You’re really something!” Harry sighed, dropping into the nearest chair. “All right, Doug. If I have to spell the whole thing out for you, here it is.”

  There was a tense moment as Harry snapped open his briefcase, removing the incriminating file he’d hastily thrown together. He placed it on the small table next to his chair, and his lips tightened.

  “This file contains a copy of Kathi’s birth records and the complete records of her hospital admission after the accident in which she was supposedly injured. . . including a physical description of her identifying marks and features. I think you’d better tell me the whole story, Doug. I know that the girl you call Kathi Ellison isn’t your real daughter.”

  Doug’s steadiness crumbled suddenly, as if he were a marionette and someone let go of the strings. He nodded jerkily and attempted to light his cigarette with hands that trembled openly now.

  “I should have leveled with you.” He sighed deeply and managed to bring the match close enough to the end of the cigarette to light it. “I know I should have leveled with you.” His voice was barely a whisper.

  Vivian waited. She knew that once Doug started talking, there would be no stopping him. He would blurt out the whole thing. But maybe it was time to tell the truth. After all these years, she was finally beginning to value peace—and peace of mind—above prosperity, success, and status. Or maybe she was just getting too old to play the game.

  “We . . . we thought we were doing the right thing. A hurt little girl . . . an orphan like that. She needed a good home. And I needed a daughter. It all seemed so simple then.”

  Doug’s voice faltered and broke off, and for once Harry did not interrupt. He watched Doug relight his dead cigarette, and he felt a stirring of sympathy that he quickly quelled. Doug had lied to him, and that was one thing Harry would not tolerate. He wanted this whole story with nothing held back.

  “From the beginning,” Harry ordered, leaning back in his chair. He’d scared the hell out of Doug, and he was rather pleased with himself. This whole thing could still be hushed up, but he wasn’t about to tell Doug that now. Harry wanted to see Mr. Perfect Candidate sweat a little. That way Doug would listen to him the next time he ordered him to level. Harry had sweated blood, digging out this whole damn thing, and Doug was going to pay for that. He wouldn’t be caught lying to Harry Adams again. You could bet on that!

  * * *

  They had been naked together on the couch when Roma burst into the office. She tugged the badly frightened child by the hand, and held Kathi back when she made a move to run toward her father. A look of shocked fury distorted Roma’s face, and she stood there glaring for a timeless moment.

  “Oh, my God!” Vivian gasped, as Roma pulled Kathi out of the room and slammed the door behind her. She turned to Doug who was hastily pulling on his clothes.

  “We’ve got to catch her!” he shouted. “She’s drunk again. There’s no telling what she’ll do!”

  Frantic moments later, they were speeding down Highway 10 in Vivian’s car. She was at the wheel, insisting that Doug was too upset to drive. He peered through the windshield, urging Vivian on. There she was! Stopped by the signal light in the center of town!

  “She’s taking Route 28!” Doug breathed, watching intently as Roma’s car turned left at the signal. “Hurry up Viv! You can catch her! Just stay behind her, and I’ll jump out when she stops. Look at that! She’s in no condition to drive!”

  The white convertible swerved on the two-lane highway, barely missing the shoulder of the road. Vivian deliberately dropped back a bit, until she could barely see the taillights of the car in the distance. Roma would just speed up if she knew that they were following her, and she seemed barely able to control the car at her present speed.

  Vivian turned at the crossroads, heading southwest toward Swanville. Roma was quite a distance ahead of them, but there was no other traffic. This was all farming land, and most people were in bed by dusk, getting ready for the long days of harvesting ahead. The road was deserted, and Roma’s taillights were clearly visible in the distance.

  Vivian drove carefully. She knew the road well, its winding curves and hills. She had grown up in this area, and it was a mystery why Roma had chosen this particular direction. There was nothing ahead in this direction except small villages. It was really a back road, poorly maintained, and scattered with potholes that appeared with the ice and snow of winter.

  Doug leaned closer to the open window and listened for a moment. “There’s a train coming,” he announced shakily. “We’ll catch her when she stops at Carlson’s Crossing.”

  Vivian saw the train as she came over the top of the steep hill. Roma’s brake lights flashed briefly, and then the white convertible surged forward again in an impossible race.

  “She’s trying to beat the train! She’ll never make it!”

  Doug cried out as Vivian pulled onto the shoulder, scattering loose gravel as the car slowed and stopped. They watched in mute shock as the train’s brakes locked and squealed loudly.

  In the next few seconds, a thousand questions and thoughts whirled through Doug’s mind in a crazy pattern. Why? Why had he let himself be caught on his office couch with Vivian? For Doug was now sure that he had been the one who had forgotten to lock the office door. Why hadn’t he gone to Roma’s parents sooner? Why hadn’t they believed him when he told them that Roma was an alcoholic? Why hadn’t he insisted that she get some kind of treatment, even committed her to a hospital to dry out? He’d been afraid—afraid of the gossip that would ruin his law practice, afraid of his own pride—sinking into the delusion that everything would be all right once he was established and could spend more time with Roma. And then it had been too late. Then she was drunk every night, and he had left her, alone and miserable, to carry on his affair with Vivian. He had caused this disaster, and he had only himself to blame. Please . . . dear God, please! If Roma could only get across the crossing in time, things would be different. He would change his whole life and devote it to her.

  There was a deafening crash and the white convertible spun crazily, bursting into flames almost instantaneously. Vivian heard a thin, high scream over the thundering crash, and then she covered her eyes as the train tipped and left the tracks in a wake of brilliant light and hurtling pieces of sharp met
al.

  There was a cry of unbearable anguish from Doug, and at last Vivian looked, seeing the inferno of flames and wreckage where only a moment before, the night had been peaceful. They were dead . . . both of them.... They had to be dead.

  “Kathi!” Doug screamed, snapping out of his frozen shock at last. He was halfway out of the car as Vivian came to her senses and caught his arm, pulling him back sharply.

  “No!” she shouted, struggling with all of her might against his desperate strength. “No, Doug! It won’t do any good! There’s nothing you can do now!”

  Somehow, she managed to pull him back into the car and bang the door shut. They had to get out of here! Didn’t he realize what would happen if they were found here together, at the scene of the wreck? She had to think clearly for both of them now. Doug was in a state of shock, and he couldn’t possibly know what was best for him.

  “There’s nothing you can do now, Doug. No one could have survived that,” Vivian repeated, hammering the words into Doug’s shocked, numb mind. “Leave everything to me. Just leave everything to me, darling!”

  She put the car into motion frantically, surging forward with a sudden stomp on the accelerator and making a screeching U-turn on the narrow road. They were dead, and she had to protect herself and Doug now. She was all he had. Roma and Kathi were dead. Vivian drove back to the office with the sound of Doug’s anguished sobs ringing in her ears. She glanced over to see his crumpled face by the dim glow of the interior lights, and she knew that she would have to help him now. Doug was numb . . . beaten . . . shocked. She would take care of everything. Sooner or later, he would have left Roma anyway. Now he was all hers, and she would take care of him. Only she could make him whole again.

  Vivian pulled up in back of the office and cut the lights. She knew what she had to do, and somehow, she had to convince Doug that she was right. She opened the door and helped him inside the building, half-dragging him into the office, and pushing him down on the couch.

  “You were here all evening!” she hissed fiercely, holding his face between her hands, so he was forced to meet her eyes. “Do you hear me? You were here working all night! No one came in! You know nothing about it. Nothing at all!”

  “No,” Doug groaned, his eyes glassy. “Vivian! I . . . I have to . . . oh, God! I just don’t know!”

  “Roma and Kathi are dead, Doug!” Vivian said savagely, her eyes burning into Doug’s. “Don’t you understand? There’s nothing you can do for them now! Do something for yourself ! It’s too late for them!”

  Doug started to protest again and then, slowly, he nodded. She was right. Vivian was right again, as always. There was nothing to be gained by admitting they had been following Roma and Kathi. If he admitted that, then he would, in turn, have to admit that Roma had been drinking. He couldn’t ruin her reputation now that she couldn’t defend herself. It would be ugly if people knew that Roma had come to the office drunk, caught him and Vivian together, and raced off in her car. Then he’d be ruining Vivian’s reputation too. It was too late for Roma and Kathi, but he didn’t want to hurt Vivian. She was right.

  “Get a hold of yourself !” Vivian spoke sharply, to try to jolt his mind into functioning again. “Here’s the file on the Schumacker case. You’ve got to pull yourself together before the sheriff comes.”

  * * *

  It was a full hour before the anticipated knock came on the door. Vivian had peeked in at Doug many times during that tense hour, and he had been sitting at his desk, staring blankly at the file she had given him. She still didn’t know what he was going to do when the sheriff gave him the news. He looked outwardly calm, but that was a part of his lawyer’s training. Vivian knew that Doug was shaking inside, as scared and shocked as she was. But this was an opportunity she had to try for, a chance she had to take.

  Vivian crossed the room. She slid open the little window in the door and looked out at Jim Lester’s grim countenance.

  “It’s Sheriff Lester,” Vivian called out to Doug, opening the door with a polite smile on her face.

  “Jim,” Vivian greeted him warmly, stepping aside so he could enter the office. “What are you doing up here so late? I thought Marion said you were working days now.”

  Sheriff Lester looked a little uncertain. His face was pale, and it was clear that he disliked the news he had to bring. He cleared his throat and swallowed with difficulty.

  “I’m glad you’re still here, Viv,” he muttered. “I-I’ve got some pretty bad news for your boss.”

  Vivian managed to look puzzled. “Doug’s in his office,” she said, knocking once, and then opening the oak-paneled door.

  “Sheriff,” Doug greeted him, looking up from his stack of papers. He smiled and made a move to rise. Vivian almost sighed audibly with relief. He was going to be just fine now.

  “No,” Sheriff Lester said, motioning Doug down again. “No need to get up, Counselor. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you.”

  Doug looked curious, but not overly alarmed. Vivian was proud of the control he was showing. She turned to leave the two of them alone, but Jim’s strained voice stopped her.

  “I think you’d better stay, Viv,” he suggested. “The counselor might need you.” He turned to Doug. “You don’t mind if Viv stays, do you?”

  Doug shook his head, and Vivian crossed in front of Jim to the chair against the wall. She sat down primly, arranging her skirts and looking up expectantly.

  “There’s been a bad accident,” Sheriff Lester began. Then he cleared his throat and dropped his eyes to the floor. There weren’t words to make his duty easier. He’d have to just come right out and say it, with the counselor staring at him apprehensively.

  “I-it’s your wife, Counselor,” Sheriff Lester faltered. “She’s . . . well . . . she’s dead.”

  Doug groaned, and his face blanched white. His mouth opened and closed as he gasped for breath. “Dead?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Roma? Are you sure?”

  “I’m sorry,” Sheriff Lester said, making a tentative move toward Doug, and then backing off again, unsure of exactly what to do. He was taking it well, Sheriff Lester thought. Thank God, he wasn’t the hysterical kind of man he ran into every now and then.

  “What . . . what happened?” Doug asked, his voice a shocked croak. “An accident, you say? Where?”

  “It happened right outside of Swanville,” Sheriff Lester explained, looking as if he hated this gruesome duty. “The car she was driving collided with a train. I’m sorry, Counselor. Your wife was killed on impact.”

  “Oh, God!” Doug cried, a pained expression on his face. Then, when the expected news didn’t follow he leaned forward, suddenly alert. “Kathi?” he gasped. “Was Kathi with her?”

  Sheriff Lester nodded. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “She’s at St. Gabriel’s now. It doesn’t look good though, Counselor. She was thrown from the car, and she’s hurt pretty bad.”

  “She’s alive?”

  Vivian squeezed her hands together tightly. It wasn’t possible!

  Doug leaped from his chair and tried to brush past Sheriff Lester, whose big brawny hand shot out and grabbed him.

  “Hold on a minute, Counselor,” he advised. He shot Vivian a warning glance. “I don’t think you should go down there by yourself. You’ll drive the counselor, won’t you, Viv?”

  “Of course!” Vivian exclaimed, disbelief in her voice. Kathi was alive? It was inconceivable! “I’ll stay with him too, Jim. My God! I just can’t believe it!”

  Sheriff Lester nodded as Vivian took Doug’s arm and started to lead him out of the office. Vivian Sundquist was a good girl in a pinch. She looked mighty upset herself, but she had gumption. She’d make sure the counselor didn’t do anything foolish.

  “I’ll lock up for you here,” Sheriff Lester offered, snapping off the lights. “Just get over there as fast as you can, Viv. The hospital may need some papers signed in a hurry.”

  Neither Vivian nor Doug uttered a word as they drove the
short distance to the hospital. There was nothing to say. The impossible had happened, and by some miracle of mercy, Kathi had survived.

  “Hurry!” Doug muttered, leaping out of the car before it was fully stopped. “Hurry, Viv! She’s alive! Kathi’s alive!”

  They were met at the entrance by a nurse who ushered them right into the administrator’s office. Sheriff Lester had called to say they were on their way.

  “They’re prepping her for surgery now, Mr. Ellison,” said the charge nurse, a starched white model of efficiency and decorum as she pushed a release form in front of Doug. “This form authorizes the surgery and any procedures the physician feels are necessary.”

  Doug’s hand was shaking as he signed the paper. He still couldn’t believe that his miracle had happened. Kathi must have been thrown from the car as it hit, and the flames had obscured their view. He had been so certain that no one could live through a hideous wreck like that. They had both been so certain!

  “Mr. Ellison is here,” the nurse called, pushing a button on the intercom unit. “Inform Dr. Mielke that the release form is signed.”

  “I’ll send Dr. Merrill in with something to calm you down,” she said gently, taking Doug’s hand with a practiced motion, feeling for his pulse.

  “No,” Doug choked. “Just coffee, please. That’s all I need. I’ll be fine.” He shook his head as the nurse frowned. “I want to be alert when Kathi comes out of the operating room,” he explained. “She’s going to need me. She’s going to need me now, more than ever!”

  “It may be hours, Mr. Ellison,” the nurse explained kindly. “You should rest now. You’re going to need all your strength later.”

  “Just coffee, Miss Jacobs,” Vivian urged, reading the nurse’s name tag. “Mr. Ellison will be all right, and I’ll stay right here with him.”

  The nurse nodded. She too, had noticed the stubborn set of Doug’s jaw. “I’ll send Dr. Merrill in with the admission reports,” she said, turning to leave. “He’ll be able to answer any questions you have.”