A Memory Worth Dying For (35 page)

She nodded. “Where is Daniel?”

“I’ll take you to him right now. Just don’t make me mad.”

Shane opened the door, peeked at the nurses still sitting in the same positions, and pushed Marti out the door. He poked the gun into her back and walked behind her as she made her way to the stairs.

Shane let out a shaky laugh when the stairwell door closed behind them. “That was easy.” He poked the gun into Marti’s ribs. “Now when we get down to the basement, there’s an exit to the right. A black SUV is parked in the parking deck, right beside the door. You get in and drive. If anybody asks, we’ve been visiting a friend. Do you understand?”

Marti stared at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Just shut up and walk.”

Marti limped down three flights of stairs to the basement. When they opened the door into the parking garage, a security guard slammed his car door three cars over from the entrance. He balanced a McDonald’s bag in one hand and a cup holder full of drinks in the other and walked toward them.

Shane pushed the gun into Marti’s back. “Remember Daniel,” he said. He pointed toward the black vehicle parked in the second parking spot. Marti walked that way and smiled shakily at the policeman as he came toward them.

“Evening, folks.”

Marti nodded at him and kept walking.

Shane heard the security guard stop for a second before moving on. If the guard recognized Marti and questioned her, he’d have to think of something. He couldn’t let anyone stop him. He had a promise to keep.

When they reached the black SUV, Shane stole a glance at the guard. He was still looking in their direction but the elevator door was closing. Shane opened the door, pushed Marti through the passenger side of the SUV into the driver’s seat, and climbed in beside her. He opened the glove compartment, pulled out a large black pistol, and tossed the one he was holding into the back seat.

He grinned at Marti. “What? Did you think I could sneak a real gun into the hospital?”

His maniacal laughter filled the confined space.

Marti shuddered. “I th-thought you said Daniel was here.”

“Just drive. You didn’t really think I’d let him wait in the car, did you?” Shane laughed again. The sound made him relax. “This is going to work. Mary’s memory as a qualified nurse, a good mother, and a loving wife will be intact.”

SEVENTY

MARTI’S BREATHS CAME IN RASPING,
choking gulps as she drove the SUV out of the hospital parking lot and onto Park Avenue.

He’s not taking me to Daniel. Where is he taking me?

“Turn right at the next light.”

The gun was still in his hand and glimmered in the street lights as they flashed by. Farther out on the road, the city lights grew dim, and the row of street lights ended. Still she kept driving.

Shane sat so still that she wondered if he had gone to sleep. She drew her body in as tight as she could. If she made herself small enough and quiet enough, maybe he would forget she was there and take a nap. Then she could find a place to stop the car and escape. Just about the time she gathered enough courage to turn and see if he was asleep, he lifted the gun toward her.

“Turn right at the next driveway.”

Marti’s heart thumped in her chest. The next driveway was the county’s cemetery. The SUV crawled into the turn and slowed almost to a stop.

Marti looked at the ground outside her window. If she slowed the car enough, could she jump before he shot her? Maybe if she pushed the arm holding the gun up into the air and jumped at the same time, it would give her enough time to get out of the car. By the time he got the car stopped, she could be hidden in the trees on the left side of the road. There was a house just about a mile from the cemetery. If she could make it there before he did, she could call for help.

“Go to the end of this road and park, and hurry up. You’re driving too slow.”

Shane turned his head to look into the cemetery, and Marti knew this would be her last chance. With all the strength inside her, she lunged for his hand with the gun and pushed it toward the ceiling. The gun went off, and the bullet made a tearing sound as it entered the roof of the car. At the same time, Marti shoved open the door and tried to crawl out the opening, but she couldn’t move.

She forgot about the seat belt.

Before she could reach to click it open, Shane pushed the gun into her face. His voice fried the air. “Don’t do that again. Next time I’ll shoot. Close the door and drive.”

Marti’s hands were shaking so hard she could hardly hold the steering wheel. The car crept up to ten miles an hour then twenty. “Wh-where are we going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

When the paved road ended at the grass, Shane leaned over and turned off the engine. With a quick movement, he jerked the gear into park and pulled the keys from the ignition. He pointed the gun at Marti. “Get out.”

“Where are we going?”

“I said
get out
.”

Shane’s words were slow and raspy. His voice boiled over with anger.

It took four attempts at unfastening her seatbelt before the lock clicked and went slack. Should she run as soon as she got out of the car? Or, should she wait until he wasn’t looking and then try to escape? She opened her door and peeled herself out of the seat. Before she even stood straight, Shane was standing outside her door—the gun pointed at her head.

It was too late. Running was not an option.

SEVENTY-ONE

WHEN AMBER PIKE AND BRENT
Simmons entered the room, Daniel indicated two chairs opposite the couch, but he remained standing. Amber and Brent sat down on the chairs and looked at each other. Brent nodded at Amber, who leaned forward. Her face was serious and full of worry wrinkles. She pulled out a single sheet of paper from her case and laid it on her lap.

Gerald shifted in his seat and spoke—a touch of impatience in his voice. “Do you have more news of the investigation?”

“We do have news, sir.” Amber took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “The suppositions I mentioned to you a week ago were correct. Martha Rushing was definitely not driving the night of the accident.” Amber continued. “All the evidence proves that Vinny Welsh was driving the car. His wife, your daughter Angela Welsh, was riding in the passenger seat, and Martha Rushing was riding in the back, behind the driver. We also know Martha was not drinking. The blood tests run later the next day showed no signs of alcohol in her system.”

“Wait a minute.” Daniel interrupted. “They said at the trial it was too late to conduct blood tests for the alcohol levels.”

Amber nodded. “Yes, that’s what we were told, but blood tests can be conducted for some time after an accident. Her blood was tested at the hospital and turned over to the investigating officer. Unfortunately, the results were filed in the wrong office. One of the lab technicians remembered running the tests but couldn’t find the results when we asked for them. He found them stuffed in the back of the cabinet behind the set of drawers.”

Daniel rubbed his forehead with his hands.

Amber cleared her throat and continued. “We also confirmed that the baby brought to the hospital that night and passed off as Martha’s baby was, in fact, not hers at all.”

Daniel stiffened and walked closer to the couch. “What?”

“Sit down, Daniel, and let them explain,” his father said as he indicated the seat beside him on the couch. Daniel slowly sat down.

Brent leaned forward and took over the explanation. “Daniel, we asked your father not to mention it to you until we had proof, but now we do. The baby Mary brought to the hospital that night as Marti’s baby was born to a young woman named Tommi Robbins. She died immediately after the birth—preeclampsia, I believe. The baby was born alive the morning of the accident, but died later that afternoon. It seems that Mary switched the babies at the clinic across the road from the accident and took the dead baby to the hospital. She told the nurses it was Marti’s baby.”

Daniel was shocked. “But why? And how can that happen? What about blood types and DNA tests?”

“The babies had the same blood type, and because of the accident, there was no question about it not being Marti’s baby, Daniel. We all just assumed . . . since Mary delivered the little boy and brought him in . . .”

Daniel’s face turned white. He stood up and paced the floor. Suddenly, he came to a dead stop. “If that baby wasn’t Marti’s baby, then what happened to Marti’s son?” His voice was hoarse and cracked.

Brent cleared his throat. “You know him, Daniel. I’m afraid he’s being raised by Shane and Veronica Duke.”

“Chris? Chris is Marti’s baby?” Daniel voice broke. “Her baby didn’t die?” Daniel sank into the chair in front of him—the paralysis of unbelief frozen on his face. “Are you sure?”

Brent nodded. “Yes. The DNA test proved it. There’s no question.”

Daniel slumped farther down in the chair. His face was cold, as if the blood had all rushed to his heart to keep it pumping.

Gerald leaned forward. “When can we have him back?”

Daniel heard the control and roughness in his father’s voice. His father was accepting this much better than he was. If these things were true, his father had a grandson. Chris was stolen from them. His heart couldn’t wrap around that fact.

Brent stood up, and the firmness of his expression spoke of determination. “We’ve already talked to the judge about a court order, Gerald. As soon as that’s done, probably in a couple of hours, we’ll pick up Chris. But until that happens, don’t mention this to anyone. We don’t want the Dukes to get word of the judge’s order and run with the child. We have men watching the house, but a police chase could injure Chris if Shane or Veronica panics.”

“Veronica? Veronica knew?” Daniel’s voice was raspy.

“We don’t know for sure, but we’re taking every precaution.” Brent paused a moment before getting to his feet. “Tell me you’ll wait on the department and not take matters into your own hands, or I’ll have to leave one of my men here.”

Gerald grabbed his crutches and made an effort to stand. He hobbled to stand directly in front of Brent and looked him in the eye. “We’ll wait, Brent, but not for long and only because I can’t get around very well right now. But I’m telling you, we won’t wait long—guard or no guard.”

Daniel stood beside his father in complete agreement.

“Understood.”

Amber stood, and they both shook hands with Gerald. When they turned to Daniel, he reached out his hand, but his fingers felt numb—as if he were in an alternate universe watching his life unfold through a window. He still couldn’t take it all in.

Brent and Amber walked to the door. “We’ll be bringing the boy by as soon as we have the court order, Daniel. In the meantime . . .”

Brent was interrupted by the beeper hanging on his belt. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Simmons.
What?
When? Seal all the exits and search the hospital. Have Tom block the exit to the parking lot, and get Ronnie to start reviewing the last hour of security tapes. I’ll be there in ten.”

While he was talking, Daniel’s heart dropped into his stomach. Something was wrong at the hospital. Was Marti okay? Did this involve her?

Brent turned toward them. “Marti’s gone from her room at the hospital. She left her gown and walked out. There’s no sign of a struggle, but no one saw her leave either. She must have gone down the stairs to the basement. The receptionist downstairs says she didn’t see her leave through the lobby. ”

“What about the bodyguard?”

“The nurse said he told them someone from the station called and said they had the suspect in custody and his job was over. So, he left.”

Daniel felt a cold wave travel through his limbs. “Let’s go.” He stepped toward the door.

Brent grabbed his arm. “Daniel, wait. Did she have friends who might have picked her up?”

Daniel shook his head. “She’s been talking to Cynthia Morrison and Skyler Rountree, but she wouldn’t leave without checking out or telling the nurses. She has no place to go, except here.”

“We’ll give them a call and find out. Stay here, Daniel, and let me know if you hear from her.”

Daniel shook Brent’s hand from his arm. “Brent, I have to look for her.”

“We’ll find her, Daniel. Stay here, and if she comes back, call the station. Amber, we’re out of here.”

SEVENTY-TWO

“WHEN BRENT AND AMBER LEFT,
Daniel moved to the windows to stare at the mountains, seeking some kind of peace. Calmness eluded him like his memory had for so many months.

“Chris is Marti’s son. I can’t believe it. Do you think Veronica knew?” Fury blazed in his eyes. “You were right, Dad. I don’t know her very well. All those things she told me about how close we were—she lied. I should have believed you when you told me so. I thought you were exaggerating because you didn’t like her. Do you think she knew Chris was Marti’s baby?”

Gerald wore a pained expression. “Daniel, why do you keep calling him ‘Marti’s baby,’ instead of ‘our’ baby?”

“Because, Dad, that day at the hospital, Mary told me the baby . . . wasn’t mine. She said Marti had been seeing a man in the next county.” Daniel’s back stiffened, and he felt nauseated.

“Son, Mary lied about everything else. What makes you believe she was telling the truth about that?”

Daniel sat down in the chair and rubbed his forehead. “Because, Dad, I saw her with him—in town the other day. She was laughing and talking—right outside the café. They hugged each other and went into the café together. She lied about meeting him. She told me she was meeting her friends for lunch. That’s one accusation Mary made that I think . . . might be true.”

“I don’t believe it. There must be an explanation, Daniel. Marti would never—”

“Enough, Dad. Maybe you’re right, but right now I’m concerned about Marti.”

“But Daniel, she never acted like she was unhappy being with you. Don’t you think you might be jumping to conclusions like we did with everything else?”

“I don’t know, Dad. I just know I saw them together the other day. That’s all.”

“What did she say when you confronted her with it three years ago?”