A routine report, she thought. There were no surprises, no warnings of the disaster to come. But at the bottom of the first page she stopped, her gaze focusing on a single statement: “Because of maternal family history of spina bifida, amniocentesis was performed at eighteen weeks of pregnancy and revealed no abnormalities.”
Amniocentesis. Early in her pregnancy, fluid had been withdrawn from Jenny Brook’s womb for analysis. This would have identified any fetal malformations. It also would have identified the baby’s sex.
The amniocentesis report was not included in the hospital chart. That didn’t surprise her; the report had probably been filed away in Jenny Brook’s outpatient record.
Which had conveniently vanished from Dr. Tanaka’s office, she realized with a start.
Kate closed the chart. Suddenly feverish, she rose and returned to the file clerk. “I need another record,” she said.
“Not another deceased patient, I hope.”
“No, this one’s still alive.”
“Name?”
“William Santini.”
It took only a minute for the clerk to find it. When Kate finally held it in her hands, she was almost afraid to open it, afraid to see what she already knew lay inside. She stood there beside the clerk’s desk, wondering if she really wanted to know.
She opened the cover.
A copy of the birth certificate stared up at her.
Name: William Santini.
Date of Birth: August 17.
Time: 03:00.
August 17, the same day. But not quite the same time. Exactly one hour after Baby Girl Brook had left the world, William Santini had entered it.
Two infants; one living, one dead. Had there ever been a better motive for murder?
“Don’t tell me you still have charts to finish,” remarked a shockingly familiar voice.
Kate’s head whipped around. Guy Santini had just walked in the door. She slapped the chart closed but instantly realized the name was scrawled in bold black ink across the cover. In a panic, she hugged the chart to her chest as an automatic smile congealed on her face.
“I’m just…cleaning up some last paperwork.” She swallowed and managed to add, conversationally, “You’re here late.”
“Stranded again. Car’s back in the shop so Susan’s picking me up.” He glanced across the counter, searching for the clerk, who’d temporarily vanished. “Where’s the help around here, anyway?”
“She was, uh, here just a minute ago,” said Kate, inching toward the exit.
“I guess you heard the news. About Avery’s wife. A blessing, really, considering her—” He looked at her and she froze, just two feet from the door.
He frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I’ve just— Look, I’ve really got to go.” She turned and was about to flee out the door when the file clerk yelled: “Dr. Chesne!”
“What?” Kate spun around to see the woman peering at her reproachfully from behind a shelf.
“The chart. You can’t take it out of the department.”
Kate looked down at the folder she was still holding to her chest and frantically debated her next move. She didn’t dare return the chart while Guy was standing right beside the counter; he’d see the name. But she couldn’t stand here like a half-wit, either.
They were both frowning at her, waiting for her to say something.
“Look, if you’re not finished with it, I can hold it right here,” the clerk offered, moving to the counter.
“No. I mean…”
Guy laughed. “What’s in that thing, anyway? State secrets?”
Kate realized she was clutching the chart as though terrified it would be forcibly pried from her grasp. With her heart hammering, she willed her feet to move forward. Her hand was barely steady as she placed the chart facedown on the counter. “I’m not finished with it.”
“Then I’ll hold it for you.” The clerk reached over and for one terrifying second seemed poised to expose the patient’s name. Instead she merely scooped up the request list that Guy had just laid on the counter. “Why don’t you sit down, Dr. Santini?” she suggested. “I’ll bring your records over to you.” Then she turned and vanished into the file room.
Time to get the hell out of here, thought Kate.
It took all her self-control not to bolt out the door. She felt Guy’s eyes on her back as she moved slowly and deliberately toward the exit. Only when she’d actually made it into the hall, only when she heard the door thud shut behind her, did the impact of what she’d discovered hit her full force. Guy Santini was her colleague. Her friend.
He was also a murderer. And she was the only one who knew.
* * *
GUY STARED AT the door through which Kate had just retreated. He’d known Kate Chesne for almost a year now and he’d never seen her so jittery. Puzzled, he turned and headed to the corner table to wait. It was his favorite spot, this little nook; it gave him a sense of privacy in this vast, impersonal room. Someone else obviously favored it, as well. There were two charts still lying there, waiting to be refiled. He grabbed a chair and was about to nudge the folders aside when his gaze suddenly froze on the top cover. He felt his legs give away. Slowly he sank into the chair and stared at the name.
Brook, Baby Girl. Deceased.
Dear God, he thought. It can’t be the same Brook.
He flipped it open and hunted for the mother’s name on the death certificate. What he saw sent panic knifing through him.
Mother: Brook, Jennifer.
The same woman. The same baby. He had to think; he had to stay calm. Yes, he would stay calm. There was nothing to worry about. No one could connect him to Jenny Brook or the child. The four people involved with that tragedy of five years ago were now dead. There was no reason for anyone to be curious.
Or was there?
He shot to his feet and hurried back to the counter. The chart that Kate had so reluctantly parted with was still lying there, face down. He flipped it over. His own son’s name stared up at him.
Kate Chesne knew. She had to know. And she had to be stopped.
“Here you are,” said the file clerk, emerging from the shelves with an armload of charts. “I think I’ve got all—” She halted in amazement. “Where are you going? Dr. Santini!”
Guy didn’t answer; he was too busy running out the door.
* * *
THE HOSPITAL LOBBY was reassuringly bright when Kate stepped off the elevator. A few visitors still lingered by the lobby doors, staring out at the storm. A security guard lounged at the information desk, chatting with a pretty volunteer. Kate hurried over to the public telephones. An out-of-order sign was taped to the first phone; a man was feeding a quarter into the other. She planted herself right behind him and waited. Wind rattled the lobby windows; outside, the parking lot was obscured by a heavy curtain of rain. She prayed that Lieutenant Ah Ching would be at his desk.
But at that moment it wasn’t Ah Ching’s voice she longed to hear most of all; it was David’s.
The man was still talking on the phone. Glancing around, she was alarmed to see the security guard had vanished. The volunteer was already closing down the information desk. The place was emptying out too fast. She didn’t want to be left alone—not here, not with what she knew.
She fled the hospital and headed out into the downpour.
She’d parked Jinx’s car at the far end of the lot. The storm had become a fierce, tropical battering of wind and rain. By the time she’d dashed across to the car, her clothes were soaked. It took a few seconds to fumble through the unfamiliar set of keys, another few seconds to unlock the door. She was so intent on escaping the storm that she scarcely noticed the shadow moving toward her through the gloom. Just as she slid onto the driver’s seat, the shadow closed in. A hand seized her arm.
She stared up to see Guy Santini towering over her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“MOVE OVER,” HE SAID.
“Guy, my arm—??
?
“I said move over.”
Desperate, she glanced around for some passerby who might hear her screams. But the lot was deserted and the only sound was the thudding of rain on the car’s roof.
Escape was impossible. Guy was blocking the driver’s exit and she’d never be able to scramble out the passenger door in time.
Before she could even plan her next move, Guy shoved her aside and slid onto the driver’s seat. The door slammed shut. Through the window, the gray light of evening cast a watery glow on his face.
“Your keys, Kate,” he demanded.
The keys had dropped beside her on the seat; she made no move to retrieve them.
“Give me the damn keys!” He suddenly spotted them in the dim light. Snatching them up, he shoved the key into the ignition. The second he did, she lashed out. Like a trapped animal, she clawed at his face but at the last instant, some inner revulsion at the viciousness of her attack made her hesitate. It was only a split second, but it was enough time for him to react.
Flinching aside, he seized her wrist and wrenched her sideways so hard she was thrown back against the seat.
“If I have to,” he said in a deadly quiet voice, “I swear I’ll break your arm.” He threw the gear in reverse and the car jerked backward. Then, hitting the gas, he spun the car out of the parking lot and into the street.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Somewhere. Anywhere. I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.”
“About—about what?”
“You know what the hell about!”
Her chin snapped up expectantly as they approached an intersection. If she could throw herself out—
But he’d already anticipated her move. Seizing her arm, he yanked her toward him and sped through the intersection just as the signal turned red.
That was the last stoplight before the freeway. The car accelerated. She watched in despair as the speedometer climbed to sixty. She’d missed her chance. If she tried to leap out now, she’d almost certainly break her neck.
He knew as well as she did that she’d never be so reckless. He released her arm. “It was none of your business, Kate,” he said, his eyes shifting back to the road. “You had no right to pry. No right at all.”
“Ellen was my patient—our patient—”
“That doesn’t mean you can tear my life apart!”
“What about her life? And Ann’s? They’re dead, Guy!”
“And the past died with them! I say let it stay dead.”
“My God, I thought I knew you. I thought we were friends—”
“I have to protect my son. And Susan. You think I’d stand back and let them be destroyed?”
“They’d never take the boy away from you! Not after five years! The courts are bound to give you custody—”
“You think all I’m worried about is custody? Oh, we’d keep William all right. There’s no judge on earth who’d be able to take him away from me! Who’d hand him over to some lunatic like Decker! No. It’s Susan I’m thinking of.”
The highway was slick with rain, the road treacherous. Both his hands were fully occupied on the steering wheel. If she lunged at him now, the car would surely spin out of control, killing them both. She had to wait for another time, another chance to escape.
“I don’t understand,” she persisted, scanning the road ahead for a stalled car, a traffic jam, anything to slow them down. “What do you mean, it’s Susan you’re worried about?”
“She doesn’t know.” At Kate’s incredulous look, he nodded. “She thinks William is hers.”
“How can she not know?”
“I’ve kept it from her. For five years, it’s been my little secret. She was under anesthesia when our baby was born. It was a nightmare, all that rush, all that panic to do an emergency C-section. That was our third baby, Kate. Our last chance. And she was born dead….” He paused and cleared his throat; when he spoke again, his voice was still thick with pain. “I didn’t know what to do. What to tell Susan. There she was, sleeping. So peaceful, so happy. And there I was, holding our dead baby girl.”
“You took Jenny Brook’s baby as your own.”
He hastily scraped the back of his hand across his face. “It was—it was an act of God. Can’t you see that? An act of God. That’s how it seemed to me at the time. The woman had just died. And there was her baby boy, this absolutely perfect baby boy, crying in the next room. No one to hold him. Or love him. No one knew a thing about the child’s father. There didn’t seem to be any relatives, anyone who cared. And there was Susan, already starting to wake up. Can’t you understand? It would have killed her to find out. God gave us that boy! It was as if—as if He had planned it that way. We all felt it. Ann. Ellen. Only Tanaka—”
“He didn’t agree?”
“Not at first. I argued with him. I practically begged him. It was only when Susan opened her eyes and asked for her baby that he finally gave in. So Ellen brought the boy to the room. She put him in Susan’s arms. And my Susan—she just looked at him and then she—she started to cry….” Guy wiped his sleeve across his face. “That’s when we knew we’d done the right thing.”
Yes, Kate could see the perfection of that moment. A decision as wise as Solomon’s. What better proof of its rightness than the sight of a newborn baby curled up in his mother’s arms?
But that same decision had led to the murder of four people.
Soon it would be five.
The car suddenly slowed; with a new burst of hope, she looked up. Traffic was growing heavier. Far ahead lay the Pali tunnel, curtained off by rain. She knew there was an emergency telephone somewhere near the entrance. If he would just slow down a little more, if she could shove the car door open, she might be able to fling herself out before he could stop her.
The chance never came. Instead of heading into the tunnel, Guy veered off onto a thickly wooded side road and roared past a sign labeled: Pali Lookout. The last stop, she thought. Set on a cliff high above the valley, this was the overhang where suicidal lovers sealed their pacts, where ancient warriors once were flung to their deaths. It was the perfect spot for murder.
A last flood of desperation made her claw for the door. Before she could get it open, he yanked her back. She turned and flew at him with both fists. Guy struggled to fight her off and lost control of the wheel. The car swerved off the road. By the erratic beams of their headlights, she caught glimpses of trees looming ahead. Branches thudded against the windshield but she was beyond caring whether they crashed; her only goal was escape.
It was Guy’s overwhelming strength that decided the battle. He threw all his weight into shoving her back. Then, cursing, he grabbed the wheel and spun it wildly to the left. The right fender scraped trees as the car veered back onto the road. Kate, sprawled against the seat, could only watch in defeat as they weaved up the last hundred yards to the lookout.
Guy stopped the car and killed the engine. For a long time he sat in silence, as though summoning up the courage to get the job done. Outside, the rain had slowed to a drizzle and beyond the cliff’s edge, mist swirled past, shrouding the fatal plunge from view.
“That was a damned crazy stunt you pulled,” he said quietly. “Why the hell did you do it?”
Slowly she bowed her head; she felt a profound sense of weariness. Of inevitability. “Because you’re going to kill me,” she whispered. “The way you killed the others.”
“I’m going to what?”
She looked up, searching his eyes for some trace of remorse. If only she could reach inside him and drag out some last scrap of humanity! “Was it easy?” she asked softly. “Cutting Ann’s throat? Watching her bleed to death?”
“You mean— You really think I— Dear God!” He dropped his head in his hands. Suddenly he began to laugh. It was soft at first, then it grew louder and wilder until his whole body was racked by what sounded more like sobs than laughter. He didn’t notice the new set of headlights, flickering like a
beacon through the mist. She glanced around and saw that another car had wandered up the road. This was her chance to throw open the door, to run for help. But she didn’t. In that instant she knew that Guy had never really meant to hurt her. That he was incapable of murder.
Without warning, he shoved his door open and stumbled out into the fog. At the edge of the lookout, he halted, his head and shoulders bowed as if in prayer.
Kate got out of the car and followed him. She didn’t say a thing. She simply reached out and touched his arm. She could almost feel the pain, the confusion, coursing through his body.
“Then you didn’t kill them,” she said.
He looked up and slowly took in a deep breath of air. “I’d do almost anything to keep my son. But murder?” He shook his head. “No. God, no. Oh, I thought about killing Decker. Who would have missed him? He was nothing, just a—a scrap of human garbage. And it seemed like such an easy way out. Maybe the only way out. He wouldn’t give up. He kept hounding people for answers. Demanding to know where the baby was.”
“How did he know the baby was alive?”
“There was another doctor in the delivery room that night—”
“You mean Dr. Vaughn?”
“Decker talked to him. Learned just enough.”
“And then Vaughn died in a car accident.”
Guy nodded. “I thought it’d all be okay, then. I thought it was over. But then Decker got out of the state hospital. Sooner or later, someone would’ve talked. Tanaka was ready to. And Ann was scared out of her mind. I gave her some money, to leave the islands. But she never made it. Decker got to her first.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Guy. Why would he kill the only people who could give him the answers?”
“He was psychotic.”
“Even psychotics have some sort of logic.”
“He must have done it. There was no one else who—”
From somewhere in the mist came the hard click of metal. Kate and Guy froze as footsteps rapped slowly across the pavement. Out of the gathering darkness, a figure emerged, like vapor taking on substance until it stood before them. Even in the somber light of dusk, Susan Santini’s red hair seemed to sparkle with fire. But it was the dull gray of the gun that held Kate’s gaze.