Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's Son\The Brother's Wife\The Long-Lost Heir (59 page)

“You’re right,” David said. “I’m not a reporter, but I am investigating the kidnapping.”

“You a cop?” His eyes flashed with something that might have been fear, but Cotton Weathers didn’t appear to be a man easily frightened.

David shrugged without answering, letting the old man draw whatever conclusions he wanted. “In a few days, you’ll be receiving an invitation to a party at the Kingsley estate in honor of her grandson, Adam Kingsley. I would highly recommend that you attend.”

Cotton glared at him. “Why should I?”

“Everyone who was present at Edward Kingsley’s fund-
raiser than night is expected to attend—those who’re still alive, that is. If you don’t come, it might look as if you have something to hide.”

David stood to leave, but before he got to the door, he heard a sound that made him whirl around. Cotton Weathers had pushed the wheelchair back from his desk and was standing. He looked as steady as any twenty-
year-
old, and the gun aimed at David’s heart didn’t shake one bit.

“I don’t know why you came here,” he said, “but I do know this. Iris Kingsley is not the only one in this town with some clout. I could put a bullet in your heart right this minute and not spend a single night in jail. You believe that?”

“Obviously, you do,” David said. “So I’m listening.”

“You go back and tell Iris Kingsley I don’t know what she’s trying to pull, but I don’t take orders from her. I never did and I never will. Unlike most everyone else in this town, I’m not afraid of that old battle-
ax. And that royally pisses her off.”

David, keeping an eye on the gun, said, “Anything else?”

Cotton Weathers stared at him for a long moment, relishing every second of his performance. Then slowly he lowered the weapon. “Yeah,” he said. “There is one other thing. Welcome home…Adam.”

The night of David’s party was mild and moonlit, but a front, still miles away, threatened rain for later that evening.

Dressed in a white Calvin Klein gown she’d bought especially for the occasion, Bradlee stepped onto the balcony off her room, lifting her face to the night sky. She tried to concentrate on the moonlight instead of the dark clouds gathering in the distance, but the coming storm seemed ominous to her. She thought about the premonition Jenny Arpello had experienced the day of the kidnapping, and a shiver of fear rippled through Bradlee.

Something bad was about to happen. She didn’t know whether the feeling was a presage of things to come, or only her imagination, but suddenly Bradlee knew she and David would have to be on their guard. Tonight Raymond Colter’s accomplice might very well return to the scene of the crime, and if they weren’t careful, they could get caught in his trap once again.

* * *

D
AVID
,
STRUGGLING WITH
a cufflink, muttered an oath when someone knocked on his door. “Come in,” he called, and Iris swept in, looking as regal as a queen on coronation day. She wore a midnight-
blue gown with a satin train and a diamond-
and-
sapphire necklace that could easily have been a museum piece.

Her white hair gleamed in the light, and her blue eyes, almost the exact shade of her dress, gave him a careful scrutiny. She nodded briskly. “You look very handsome.”

“Thank you.” David managed the cufflink, then slipped on his tuxedo jacket.

“This will be quite a night,” she said. Her voice was calm, but her eyes glittered with an emotion David couldn’t define.

“Yes, I guess it will be,” he said.

Iris hesitated. “I did what you asked. I contacted everyone who was here that night—everyone who is still alive, that is. Some of them don’t have a clue as to why they’ve been invited.”

“Everyone will know soon enough,” David said.

“And what will you do when they know?” Iris said. “When all of this becomes public? Will you then feel as if you’re Adam?”

David wasn’t sure what he would feel. He hadn’t thought beyond the announcement itself and observing the various reactions to it. Would he feel like Adam Kingsley when everyone knew about him? If so, what would happen to David Powers?

He glanced around the opulent room, far bigger and more luxurious than his apartment in New York, and the woman who stood before him—his grandmother—wearing a gown and jewels the likes of which he hadn’t seen even on Rachel, whose tastes had always seemed appallingly extravagant to him.

He didn’t know how to be a Kingsley, and it suddenly seemed imperative to him that he not lose sight of who he was, of where he’d come from, of the way he’d been raised. A man’s soul could easily get lost in their kind of wealth and power.

As if reading his mind, Iris said, “I have something for you.”

David was immediately on his guard. “What is it?”

She pulled something from her beaded evening bag. “Hold out your hand.”

He felt like a kid on Halloween, curious but more than a little wary. When his hand opened, Iris dropped a shiny gold medallion into his palm. David held it between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it to the light. One side bore an emblem stamped in the metal, but the other side was blank. A tiny hole had been punctured through the top to accommodate a chain.

“Do you know what that is?” Iris asked.

“It looks like some kind of coin but I don’t recognize the stamp. I’ve never seen one like it.”

“There’s only one other like it in the world. They belonged to you and Andrew. Put together they make a whole. You were wearing yours the night you were kidnapped, and Andrew was wearing his the night he died.”

David caressed the smooth metal as a memory flashed in his mind: The chain had been ripped from his neck by his kidnapper.
“This is my proof, kid, in case they don’t believe I have you.”

He glanced up at Iris. “How did you get it back?”

“Raymond Colter had it in his possession all these years. When he confessed and was sent to prison, the coin was returned to me. And now I’m giving it back to you. I hope one day soon you’ll want to wear it again.”

Gold chains weren’t exactly his style, but there was something about the medallion—a connection to his past—that David had been looking for all his life. He closed his fingers around the cool metal. “Thank you,” he said.

Iris nodded, then turned and left the room.

* * *

T
HE BALLROOM LOOKED
dazzling, with its glittering chandeliers, colossal arrangements of late-
summer flowers, and ornate, gilded mirrors that reflected the stunning ball gowns worn by the female guests.

An orchestra had set up on the gallery overlooking the ballroom and was playing a melody hauntingly familiar to Bradlee. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she stood just inside the doorway, gazing around.

The receiving line had already dispersed, and Iris had taken her position in a high-
backed chair at the far end of the ballroom, away from the orchestra. She watched the proceedings with an expression Bradlee couldn’t fathom. Was she wondering what effect her announcement later in the evening would have on the gathering?

Edward and Pamela were at Iris’s side, but Pamela looked as if she would rather be almost anywhere else. She was dressed in a magnificent silver gown that, even though it had been designed for a much younger woman, still looked stunning on her.

But tonight her face gave away her age. Even the most skilled plastic surgeon would have a hard time erasing the deep worry lines etched across her brow, and Bradlee couldn’t help wondering what secrets Pamela harbored concerning the night Adam was kidnapped.

As usual, Jeremy Willows stood apart from the family group, one hand nursing a drink while the other was shoved deep into the pocket of his tuxedo trousers. It was obvious to Bradlee that neither Jeremy nor his mother were enjoying the festivities, and her earlier feeling of dread came back to her. Not everyone present tonight would be happy that Adam Kingsley had returned. Now someone else stood between Jeremy and Iris’s fortune.

The ballroom was warm, but Bradlee grew cold as her gaze swept the throng of guests. She spotted her father and Crystal among the dancers, and catching her glance, her father waved. But Bradlee thought he and Crystal didn’t look particularly pleased to be here, either, and that was unusual for her father. This was his element. He loved working a crowd and adored showing off his new brides. Was there trouble in paradise already, or was something else—the evening itself, perhaps—causing her father’s somber expression?

Bradlee remembered the conversation she’d overheard between him and her uncle.
“You know she’s always had an obsession with that boy. Since he’s come back, it’s started up again. I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of them to get so chummy. If she comes around asking you questions about the kidnapping, just don’t say anything that’ll encourage her.”

And her uncle’s response had been,
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

Take care of it how? Bradlee wondered. It was bad enough to think that someone in this room had hired Colter to kidnap David, worse still that it might have been someone in David’s own family. But now to have doubts about
her
father and uncle…

Bradlee wanted to dispel those doubts, but the sight of her uncle heading across the ballroom toward her father only made them worse. Harper Fitzgerald had always been a man who dealt in secrets. He was nearing seventy now, with gray hair and leathered skin, but Bradlee didn’t think that age had changed him much. He was still one of the most formidable-
looking men she’d ever known, and she suspected he still didn’t like to lose.

How far had he been willing to go thirty-
two years ago to ensure Edward Kingsley’s victory?

As Bradlee stood watching, she saw him approach her father who bent to say something to Crystal. Then both men left the dance floor. Crystal was immediately surrounded by a swarm of men anxious to take Bradford Fitzgerald’s place. To Bradlee’s surprise, one of them was Jeremy Willows. He swept Crystal into his arms and the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

For a moment, Bradlee toyed with the idea of following her father and uncle to see what they were up to, but just then, she saw David.

He strode across the ballroom toward her, and as his gaze met hers, Bradlee’s knees grew weak. She forgot all about Iris and Edward, Pamela and Jeremy, her father and uncle. She forgot the doubts and suspicions she’d been harboring for days.

But most of all, she forgot about a woman named Rachel.

He looked so handsome in his tuxedo. So worldly. It made Bradlee suddenly realize that David Powers was a fascinating man in his own right. She would have been attracted to him even if he wasn’t Adam Kingsley.

“I was wondering when you’d come down.” His gaze swept over her in a way that made Bradlee grow even weaker. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You have?” Her voice sounded breathless. Hopeful.

He smiled down at her. “Of course. This is our big night, isn’t it?”

“It’s
your
big night,” Bradlee replied. “Tonight you officially become Adam Kingsley.”

The smile disappeared and his eyes darkened. “Tonight won’t change who I am. I haven’t been Adam Kingsley in over thirty years. I don’t even know who he is.”

“I do,” Bradlee said softly. “I’ve always known you.”

The shadow in his eyes deepened. He started to say something, then changed his mind and took her hand instead. “Let’s dance.”

He pulled her onto the dance floor, and before Bradlee had time to catch her breath, she felt his strong arms close around her. For the first time all evening, she began to relax.

This was natural, she thought with an inward sigh. This was right. She and Adam together again after all those lost and lonely years.

But while Bradlee relaxed, David seemed to tense. He said against her ear, “Is it my imagination, or is everyone staring at us?”

Bradlee glanced around. It did seem as though she and David were creating something of a sensation. All eyes were on them—Iris’s cool and assessing, Pamela’s cold with contempt, her uncle’s and her father’s openly disapproving.

Bradlee shivered in David’s arms, and he drew her even tighter. “I don’t think Iris’s announcement will come as much of a surprise to anyone,” he said. “I think everyone here already knows who I am.”

“You’re probably right,” Bradlee said. “The papers have been reporting for days now about Adam Kingsley’s return. They just haven’t been able to figure out your other identity.”

He grimaced. “You make me sound like Clark Kent.”

Bradlee laughed. “I guess in a way you are. Just think of it. How many people do you know with secret identities?”

“You might be surprised,” he said dryly. “Anyway, as soon as Iris makes her announcement, the whole world will know that Adam Kingsley and David Powers are one and the same.”

“And then you’ll be famous. Every reporter and talk-
show host in the country will be clamoring for your story.”

“God, I hope not.”

“You
are
going to be famous, David. At least for a while. You do realize that,” Bradlee said, staring up at him.

His mouth thinned with displeasure. “Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, coming here.” His gaze met hers and deepened. “But if I hadn’t, I never would have met you.”

Bradlee’s heart quickened. Tingles ran up and down her spine where his hand touched her bare back. “Yes, you would have. We were destined to find each other again. I truly believe that.”

Their gazes held for the longest moment, and Bradlee wondered fleetingly if she’d gone too far. Revealed too much of herself. David stopped dancing and took her hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of this goldfish bowl for a while.”

He led her through the open French doors onto the terrace and then down the steps to the garden. Bradlee’s shoulder touched a rose and fragrant white petals floated to the ground. Lacy clouds scrolled across the moon, deepening the shadows, and even though the rain was still an hour or so away, the air was sultry and heavy with moisture. In the distance, music drifted through the open terrace doors.