The Third Sin (19 page)

She closed her eyes and thought about her argument with Donna. She had forced Donna to abandon the story on the Braganza. For the first time, she had gotten Donna to bend to her will. Now she had to reverse her plea and persuade Donna to run the story after all. It galled her, though she knew it had to be done.

At first she had been frantic to stop any publicity that would spread the word about the sale. She knew that Wade would spend all the money to maintain his extravagant lifestyle with Bella. Blair and Harold would get nothing.

Now Wade was dead, and as his executor, Harold would control the sale. He would get the money. She hoped that this meant that for the first time in their married life, they could buy a home of their own. Maybe she could open the restaurant she had been planning for years.

She regretted using the photographs to threaten Donna. Now Donna knew she had them.

Blair had found the photos in her mother's safety deposit box after her mother's death. She had known about her father's affair with Donna from the beginning and knew it had destroyed her parents' marriage. But the photos had been a shock. There was no mistaking that Donna was the pretty blond woman enjoying sex with Blair's father.

Lying in Donna's guest room, Blair remembered the first time Donna had come to the family home. Brilliant and strikingly beautiful, with an instinct for the news business that put her on the fast track for promotion, Donna had quickly become a star reporter. She had even filled in once or twice at the national anchor desk. It wasn't unusual for Blair's father to invite young reporters to dinner, but this time, he asked Blair to let her mother know that Donna was coming.

“Wouldn't it be better if you asked her?”

“No,” he replied sternly, “I want you to do it.”

By then, she and Donna were close friends, so Blair happily alerted her mother, who was not pleased to have an unexpected guest. Trying to smooth things over, Blair offered to prepare her coq au vin for the occasion.

“It's not the cooking, it's the guest,” her mother replied, “but I'm delighted to have you cook for us.”

The food had been delicious, but her mother had been reserved throughout the evening and Blair felt an odd undercurrent to the stilted conversation around the dinner table. She decided that Donna just felt uncomfortable in her boss's home and looked forward to the end of the meal, when she hoped she and Donna would be able to go to her room for some girl talk.

But after dinner, her father said, “Donna and I mustn't be disturbed. We'll be in the study behind a locked door. We need privacy.”

Disappointed, Blair chalked her father's announcement up to his obsessive attention to work, even though her mother's scowl should have told her that something else was going on. After two hours, they emerged. Donna left immediately, after the briefest of thanks for dinner and a quick “I'll see you tomorrow.”

That first evening set the pattern—an awkward meal with the family followed by Donna disappearing into the study for several hours. Occasionally, after she emerged, Donna would stay late to chat with Blair; sometimes they would meet the following morning for coffee, but they never discussed the dinners or what else happened on those evenings.

The affair between Blair's father and Donna was a constant source of gossip around the network. Blair resented the relationship, but more disturbing were the changes in her parents. They rarely spoke to each other anymore, except for essential discussions of household matters. Even if they attended business events together, they came home to separate bedrooms.

Blair expected her parents to divorce at any moment, but they remained together. She was never sure why.

Remarkably, her friendship with Donna continued. Looking back, Blair realized that it was Donna who encouraged the friendship. She called Blair regularly to arrange meetings saying she had free tickets to movies or the theater.

Then Blair got a producer's job with a public television cooking program, left the network, and was able to move out of her family's apartment. Around that time she met Giorgio and began an affair with him.

Donna warned her against Giorgio.

“He is not really committed to you. He spends money like crazy. And I hear that he swings both ways—women and men.”

“Where do you hear all this?” Blair demanded.

“Around town. Friends. Please don't get angry, Blair. I love you and I'm just trying to keep you out of a bad scene.”

“I understand, but I don't believe all this stuff. We're great together. He's got a sensational body, and we have great sex. He's attentive and sweet, and we're going to get married.”

“Married?” Donna asked, incredulous.

“Yes, and I want you to be my maid of honor.”

Once Donna saw there was no dissuading Blair, she helped plan the wedding, and later proudly stood to be named godmother at Kirsten's christening.

When faced with divorce from Giorgio, it was Donna to whom Blair turned, and it was Donna who warned her about the difficult Bruckheimer clan. Donna had comforted Blair when her mother had a fatal heart attack, just as she had been at Blair's side earlier, through her father's last illness.

The thought of her father eased Blair's conscience as she contemplated her scheme to influence Donna. Some of the photos had been taken in his library—she recognized the bookshelves in the background. Others were of Donna in a variety of erotic poses in hotel and motel rooms. There were also three pictures of Donna and her father taken by surprise in the middle of a sex act. Blair assumed her mother had hired a private detective to provide her with unequivocal evidence of the affair.

Also in her mother's safety deposit box, Blair had found a document that transferred her father's property to her mother on condition that they never divorce and that she would never make the photos public. Each photo was numbered and listed on the agreement, which had been signed by both of her parents.

The document and photos told the whole story of the relationship between Donna and her father, and the way her mother had dealt with him.

Blair had put the photos in her mother's chest and never mentioned them to Donna—until this week. She had called Donna on Wednesday night, feeling her heart race as she dialed. For the first time in their relationship, the upper hand was hers.

After an exchange of greetings, Donna had said, “You know, we may do a story on the sale of the diamond. If I tape any interviews at your apartment, maybe afterwards we can have a glass of wine and a good chat.”

“That's why I'm calling,” Blair had replied. “I hope you will agree not to do that story.”

Blair heard hostility in Donna's reply. “Why? Why on earth would you ask that? You know very well that I have to be free to make all decisions about what stories I cover. I can't be influenced by anyone's personal request. Your father was a famous journalist. You should know news standards.”

Blair exploded. “I know my father's standards—and I know yours. I have the pictures to prove it.”

Donna sputtered, “What … what … do you … how could you mention that?”

That had answered Blair's last question: Did Donna know about the pictures and the agreement? She clearly did. Blair had smiled to herself as she continued, “I mean this: either you cancel this story, or you will see some of those pictures in a tabloid. They'll probably put a black bar over the important parts, but no one could fail to recognize the great Donna Fuller.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Donna had cried out. By then, Blair had begun to shake from the power of her emotions. She had hung up before Donna could convince her to change her mind.

How things had changed in the three days since that call, Blair thought. After causing such anguish for them both, here she was—resting in Donna's bedroom, being pampered.

And now she was about to reverse herself and ask Donna to do the story. She'll think I've gone crazy, was Blair's last thought as she drifted off.

She was awakened by Donna gently shaking her. “Blair, you said you wanted to go back to the hospital as soon as visiting hours began. Get dressed, have something to eat, and my driver will take us over.”

Still half asleep, Blair stood up and slipped into her jeans and a clean blouse. Donna was seated at a small table nearby.

“Here,” Donna said, gesturing at the chair opposite her, “sit down and have some coffee to help you wake up. And I brought sandwiches—you should try to eat. Are you feeling better?”

Blair was able to reply with genuine feeling. “Oh, yes, much. Thanks for the TLC.” She sat down and sipped her coffee. Without looking at Donna, Blair continued, “I need another favor from you, Donna. I know this will be a strange request under the circumstances…” She paused and looked up, meeting her friend's gaze. Donna's face was expressionless but Blair had the sense that she was bracing herself. “I want you to do the story on the Braganza after all.”

Whatever she had expected Blair to say, it obviously wasn't that. Blair saw Donna's eyes widen very slightly and the woman took a deep breath before answering. “And if I don't? What else do you have to threaten me with? How do you plan to punish me for what I did when I was young and ambitious?”

Blair reached across the table and took her friend's hand. “Donna, I am so sorry. Forgive me.”

“I do forgive you,” Donna replied. “But I must tell you that I could never compromise my principles and give in to blackmail. I had already decided to go ahead with the story.” Blair saw determination in her eyes and realized that she hadn't won after all. Donna always got her way.

Donna continued, “It's time we went to the hospital. If Kirsten isn't awake, I won't stay. We can stay in touch by cell.”

Blair grabbed her coat and bag. Just before they got into the car, Donna paused where no one could overhear them and said, “Blair, I would like to have those pictures. I promise I'll destroy them. They're too dangerous to leave around.”

“Of course. I'll give them to you later,” Blair answered. But she knew she was lying. As long as she lived, Donna Fuller would never get her hands on those photographs. Blair owed that to her mother.

 

Chapter
25

S
ATURDAY, 11:30 A.M.

Sonya's office

As she hastily gathered her notes, Sonya glanced at her watch. Almost eleven thirty, and she was running late. Usually she was passionate about being on time, but she and Keith had been up most of the night before and though Sonya had eventually fallen asleep, she had slept only fitfully. Keith had slept soundly, but had kept his arm around her the whole night. Each time she had awakened, the warmth of his naked body pressed against her had reassured Sonya and she had quickly drifted back to sleep.

Still, she would have liked to have stayed in bed even longer that morning. She had a difficult day ahead and would need all her energy.

When they'd been awakened by her alarm, Keith had held her close for a long moment. “I'm afraid for you to be alone,” he'd whispered in her ear. “I'm going with you to the interview.”

She had replied, “Thank you, Keith, but I'll be fine. And I won't be alone—Perry will be with me.” Sonya had meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but Keith didn't laugh.

“This isn't funny,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Somebody tried to kill you last night. They got the wrong person, but that doesn't mean they've given up. Besides, your interview is in that rat's warren of apartments where there's already been a murder this week.”

“Keith, you can't go with me. Your presence will kill the interview. I promise to stay in touch by cell and we can meet after I visit Kirsten. Why don't you shower while I call the hospital?” He had grumbled but complied.

Sonya had shivered nervously while she waited for the call to be transferred to the nurses' desk on Kirsten's floor. A sympathetic voice eased her fear. “She's doing great, Ms. Iverson,” the duty nurse assured her. “She has a couple of tests this morning, but she'll be ready for visitors by early afternoon.” Sonya thanked her and hung up.

“Good news, Keith. Kirsten is doing well,” she shouted through the bathroom door.

“Great,” he shouted back.

The thought that she was the one who should be in the hospital clung to Sonya as she prepared for her day. When Keith joined her at the kitchen table, he watched her closely. Sonya could tell he was about to speak. Wanting to forestall him, she sighed heavily and put her hand on his.

“I hope you can understand that I need you to give me space today.” He frowned, but she kept talking. “Honey, it's not just that I have work to do and that some of the people I need to talk to will clam up if there's a cop around. I feel guilty about Kirsten and I would like to see her alone so that I can talk to her about what happened. I promise not to go down any dark alleys.” She smiled. “Please…”

He shook his head. “I don't like it, but I get it. Okay. Just keep your promise to stay in touch.”

Sonya took a last long drink of coffee and went to dress. She had scheduled an interview with Blair at noon, but given everything that was happening, she wasn't surprised that she hadn't gotten a message confirming that. She had tried Blair's cell as well as the apartment, but all she had gotten was voice mail. She was planning to just go to the Bruckheimer apartments and see what happened.

But nothing would happen if she didn't get over there and fast.

Perry had texted her several times; he'd been waiting for her since ten o'clock. She met him at the van, grateful he had parked in the parking lot rather than the indoor garage. She was not ready to face that.

“How are you?” Perry asked. “I've heard the whole story, and was worrying about you.”