The Other Daughter

  Jamie tried to call out for her, but he was too far away. Harper had spotted her from his own car. He was out. He was wielding a gun. He was plunging into the woods.

  No sign of life from Riggs yet, and no time to check. His first thought, his only thought, was always Melanie.

  And this is how it all comes down, Jamie thought fatalistically.

  He started moving. He had a weapon, he had experience, he had training on his side. And yet as he plunged into the woods, he was thinking of his daughter, and he had never been so afraid.

  You don't know enough yet, lass. You don't know . . .

  Ah, Jesus God, you may take my silly life, just keep my little girl safe. Just protect my little girl from Harper.

  FOUR-YEAR-OLD MEAGAN was running. Running, running, running. Branches caught at her hair, cut her cheek. Low, scraggly bushes tore at her favorite blue dress, trying to hold her back.

  She kept slogging forward, little legs pumping. Had to run. Had to run fast. Had to run fast, fast, fast.

  She wanted to go home to her mommy. Time to go home.

  Meagan pushed faster, but behind her, she could still hear the footsteps pounding closer.

  Dada Jamie was going to get her. Dada Jamie was going to force her back to the shack. No, no, she wanted her mommy. She wanted Brian!

  You can't go home, Meagan. They don't want you anymore. Want to go home! It's going to be okay, lass, I'll take care of you, we'll get you out of here and to someplace much much nicer. Why, you'll get to live like a princess in a faraway kingdom called London. Want to go home! I know, love, but you can't. Harper . . . your da, he's not safe for you right now. He's not even your real da, love, and I'm afraid all he really wants these days is money. WANT TO GO HOME! Love, no!

  Footsteps, closer. Crashing underbrush, crackling branches.

  Run, Meagan, run. Faster, faster.

  Footsteps closer . . .

  Run, run.

  Breathing closer . . .

  RUN, MEAGAN, RUN!

  The hand whipped out and caught her hard around the middle. Melanie tried to scream. A second hand slapped over her mouth while she was yanked against a big, burly body.

  “Shh, lass,” Jamie O'Donnell whispered in her ear, dragging her deeper into the thick underbrush. “Don't make a noise.”

  And for the first time, Melanie became aware of more sounds of crackling in the underbrush. Harper suddenly appeared twenty feet in front of them, making his way through the trees and holding a very large gun.

  DAVID WOKE UP to ringing in his ears. He blinked his eyes, wondering what he was doing in the shooting range. Then he wondered why it was so bright inside the shooting range. Then he wondered why his face was so wet.

  He raised a hand. Brought it back down. He had blood all over his face.

  He reached for Melanie, then saw that she wasn't there. The car door was wide open, seat belt dragged out into the dirt. A second car sandwiched behind them, the driver's door also flung open into the breeze.

  David shoved against his door. Nothing. Shit. His hands were shaking, a first-class lump burgeoning on his temple. For once in his life he felt pain somewhere other than his back. Jesus Christ, he had to get to Melanie.

  He finally got his seat belt off. Scrambled across the passenger seat, tried to get his feet beneath him, and fell down into the dirt. The world was turning, then spinning.

  He forced himself to stand up, using the car for balance. He had his gun, so he was not helpless. Melanie was still out there, no doubt dazed and confused and vulnerable.

  Time to focus, David. Time to get control.

  He ripped the tie from his neck and wrapped it around his forehead. That cleared the blood from his gaze. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. The sharp sensation made the world stop spinning.

  David took the safety off his souped-up Beretta, thanked his father for the first time in years, and plunged into the forest.

  MELANIE WAS STANDING stock-still, her heart thundering in her chest. The world had gone so quiet around them, every move, every sound exaggerated. Her godfather pinned her against his body until she could barely breathe. Her father, so close, stalked through the underbrush as if he were hunting small prey. The gun held in Harper's hands. The gun carried beneath Jamie's jacket, the bulge pressing against her ribs.

  A single scene floated up in her mind.

  She tripped over a tree root, sprawling to the ground. The air whooshing from her lungs. No more running. She was caught. Blood on her knees, twigs in her hair. Not even enough air left to cry.

  Dada Jamie kneeling beside her, looking tired too. Funny that Dada Jamie should be the one with tears in his eyes. Brushing back her hair slowly, checking her for broken bones, examining her bloody knee.

  Dada Jamie gently, so gently, picking all those nasty little rocks from her knees. Dada Jamie murmuring over and over again that it would be all right. She just needed time to adjust, then she'd realize he would never do anything to hurt her. Dada Jamie calling her his little girl.

  Hating him anyway because he was keeping her from her family and she wanted to go home!

  Something crashed in the underbrush right behind him. Jamie swiveled, Harper's head came up. Melanie saw both of them staring off at the sound, and then she moved.

  She drove her elbow into her godfather's gut. He grimaced, tried to recover, and she stomped the inside of his foot. He was shocked enough to loosen his grip, and she pushed back with all her might. He tried to grab her arm. She ducked and burst free, making a beeline for the right, away from both men.

  “Dammit!” Jamie swore.

  “Melanie!” Harper cried.

  Melanie lowered her head and ran harder.

  And then it all happened at once. Sounds of crashing twigs and crackling branches. She thought she was moving quickly, but her godfather was already there, reaching for her shoulder. And then Harper was there, to her left, bringing up his gun.

  She burst into the clearing just as gunfire erupted from the side.

  She watched the bullet come right at her. And then she saw her godfather leap up. Jamie flying through the air, stretching out his whole body, staring right into her eyes, so earnest, so determined, so sad.

  The bullet ripped into his back, bowing his body and sending him crashing to the ground.

  Harper came into view, standing right in front of her with smoke still pouring from his gun.

  “Goddammit,” he said, “that man was always in the way.”

  And then he leveled his gun at his adopted daughter.

  DAVID WAS CAREENING through the underbrush. Leaves tangled in his hair. Roots clawed at his feet. His vision was starting to clear, but now he found he was lost and disoriented in the woods, not sure where he'd come from or where he was going.

  He found himself back at the roadside, right where he'd started, except now he was aware of banging coming from the trunk of the other car.

  “Hey,” a male voice was calling. “Somebody let me out!”

  David found the keys still dangling from the ignition and popped the trunk. Brian Stokes sat up.

  “Are you okay?” David asked, lending him an arm to help him climb out.

  Brian was fingering the bridge of his nose, which looked as if it had been attacked with a hammer. “Harper,” he mumbled. “Got a gun. Hit me.”

  “He hit you? Why?”

  “Didn't want me to . . . help Melanie. Gotta help Melanie.”

  He tried to lurch forward, but he collapsed on the asphalt. “You don't understand,” he said. “Harper has to cover his tracks. Harper . . . has to . . . kill her.”

  “Why? She's his daughter.”

  “No, not his daughter. Jamie's daughter. Don't you see? She's Jamie's . . .”

  The last few pieces clicked into place in David's mind, and then right on the heels of that came the thought that Harper really could be driven to kill Melanie. Shit!

  As if reading his mind, a gun blast suddenly ripped through the ai
r.

  “Help Melanie,” Brian cried. “Run!”

  David ran.

  MELANIE WENT DOWN on her knees in the grass, ignoring Harper and his gun. Jamie's blue eyes were locked onto hers, his hand fluttering at his side, his lips searching for air. She heard a sucking sound and realized that he'd been shot in the lung. The air was literally leaking out of him.

  Oh, God. Though she didn't know why, she looked at her father for help. Harper didn't move. He seemed to be in a state of shock. Maybe he hadn't meant to pull the trigger. Maybe he hadn't meant to harm any of them.

  “Please,” she whispered. “You're a doctor. Dad . . .”

  He didn't reply.

  Melanie gave up on him and turned her attention back to her godfather.

  “I'm . . . s-s-sorry,” Jamie gasped.

  “Shh . . . it's all right. You just rest, you can explain everything later.”

  “You . . . w-w-w-wouldn't remember. I w-w-wanted you . . . to . . . r-r-r-emember . . .”

  Blood was foaming on his lips. His eyes started to roll back, and Melanie gripped his hand more tightly.

  “No, dammit. You won't die on me, Jamie. I won't let you. . . .”

  He looked at her sadly, and she knew it was too late. He whispered, “Selfish . . . like Harper. Annie right. I am no better. Meagan . . .”

  “Jamie.”

  “I love you, lass . . . my little girl.”

  “No, Jamie, no—”

  His body convulsed. She tried to hold him still, tried to plug the bullet hole with her shaking fingers. Blood, so much blood, leaking from his ribs, from his lips. She could feel him shudder again and again.

  “God damn you,” she cried. “Don't you dare die on me. Don't you do this to me now!”

  You will always be my little girl, he had said. And no place you go will you ever be alone.

  I forgot, I forgot. I never remembered a thing. Oh, Jamie, I am so sorry.

  “M-M-Meagan,” he whispered.

  “What, Jamie? What is it?”

  “Say it . . . once . . .”

  “Say what?”

  “Call me . . . Dad.”

  “Dad,” she wept. “Dad.”

  The last breath escaped him as a soft sigh and finally the struggle was over. Jamie O'Donnell lay perfectly still. He was gone.

  Crashing emitted from the underbrush. Patricia Stokes and Ann Margaret suddenly burst forward, their hair filled with brambles. Another sound of scattering birds from the right. David Riggs burst onto the scene, his gun out.

  Everyone stared. Jamie O'Donnell's bloody body on the ground. Melanie leaning over him with tears staining her cheeks. Harper Stokes standing there—

  David pointed his gun at the same moment Harper recovered and leveled his 9mm at Melanie.

  “Back away,” David said. “FBI.”

  “Harper, for God's sake,” Patricia cried.

  “Shut up!” Harper snapped. “Anybody move, and I'm going to open fire!”

  How strange, Melanie thought. She felt as if she were seeing her adoptive father for the first time. The features she'd always found golden were faded and lined by strain. The square chin was really weak, the bright blue eyes uncertain.

  This was the man she'd loved as a father for most of her life. A spineless, self-centered, insecure man who'd traded her away for a million bucks, and had single-handedly destroyed his own family.

  She said savagely, “Say it, goddammit. Stand right there and tell everyone once and for all what you did.”

  “You don't know anything!” Harper spat out. “I did what had to be done. I did what was in the best interest of my family.”

  “You took away our daughter!” Patricia shouted. “How was that in our best interest?”

  “She wasn't our daughter. She was your brat. Yours and O'Donnell's, and you foisted her on me as if I'd never know. Did you think I was stupid? God, Pat, you of all people. I loved you.”

  “Did you, Harper? It was so hard to tell, when you were always at work.”

  “I was trying to build something for both of us. Or didn't you ever think about where the money was coming from when you went out shopping?”

  “I went out shopping because there was nothing else to do! For heaven's sake, if you'd only said something. You stupid man, I would've lived like a pauper for you. I even gave up Jamie for you. I really did love you, and I owed it to you to make it work. I really did want—oh, God, I was planning on how to save our marriage and you were kidnapping our daughter! Did you tie her up? Did you drag her screaming from the nanny's car?”

  “It wasn't anything like that! I didn't even do it. Jamie did.”

  “Because he had to,” Ann Margaret interrupted. “Because you went so far as to imply that if he didn't help you fake Meagan's murder for the insurance money, you might commit the crime for real.”

  “I was hurt, I was angry—”

  “You were greedy,” David stated flatly. Melanie could see him appraising the scene, moving slightly to the side so he'd have a better line of fire. He nodded toward her slightly. She realized he was trying to tell her that he was more in control than anyone thought, and it would be all right.

  She didn't care. Her real father was dead at her feet. Her adoptive father had a gun pointed at her. She was feeling betrayed and angry. And then she remembered that Jamie's gun was still tucked beneath his jacket.

  “How did you do it?” David was asking Harper, sidling a bit more to the left, where he could take his best aim. “You were angry, you were broke. You decided you would have to make the situation work to your advantage. Get rid of Meagan and gain a million dollars. Very clever.”

  “Brains have always been my strong suit,” Harper said. “Don't bother, Agent. I'm not going to confess it all to you.”

  “You don't have to,” Ann Margaret responded contemptuously. “I know it all. I was there too. As Russell Lee Holmes's wife.”

  She gave David a brittle smile. “Let me start at the beginning for you. Harper hatches his horrible plan. He knew Meagan wasn't his daughter—no matter that she'd adored him for four years—and he wanted her out of the house. Jamie would do anything for the girl, so he agreed. He'd fake a kidnapping of Meagan, take her someplace safe—”

  “A goddamn shack!” Harper exclaimed. “That's how he treated his child.”

  “Well, what was he supposed to do, Harper? As a friend of the family he'd be expected to help out with the search and recovery. Plus, he couldn't very well magically have a new little girl traveling with him. If he left her with a friend, that person could blackmail you later. If he put her in a hotel, someone would surely notice a weeping girl all alone every day. You were the one insisting it be so perfect. So, yes, he locked her in a shack in the middle of the woods, where no one could find her. It was hardly ideal, and it tore him up. But it also worked.

  “She was tucked away, you could fake the ransom demand, and Jamie could cough up another hundred thousand dollars to help you out.”

  “The ransom money that Brian knew Harper had never delivered,” David stated. “God, Harper, even when you're greedy, you're greedy.”

  Harper wasn't looking so steady with the gun. Every time someone spoke up, he'd jerk a little in that direction. David had noticed it. Melanie too. She was sinking toward the ground, edging closer to the front of Jamie's jacket.

  “The police,” Ann Margaret continued, “started investigating immediately, just as Harper and Jamie figured. Harper was smart, however, and no one could trace the ransom note back to him. On the other hand, you immediately realized you had overlooked a few details, right, Harper? You'd gotten yourself a quick hundred thousand, but you couldn't exactly start spending it—the police would notice. No, you needed money you could account for. The life insurance. Of course, for that you needed a body, and none was appearing the way you hoped. So once again you went to Jamie. To pull this off, he had to find a body for you. A body of a four-year-old girl who roughly matched the description of Meagan.”
r />   Her hand already on Jamie's jacket, Melanie froze. “He didn't . . . he didn't kill anyone, did he?”

  “Of course not. Identifying bodies was his job, remember? He waited until he saw one that was close enough. It took four months, four nail-biting months while the police turned on your whole family. Then he stole the body from the Mississippi morgue. He mutilated the fingertips. He cut off the head so the body couldn't be ID'd from dental records. And then he wrapped the body in a blanket. He told me about it years later. Alone in the woods with that little body. Digging the shallow grave, making sure he covered his tracks. Feeling lower than low, as if he really were a child murderer. He felt so bad, he almost couldn't do it. She was so small, some beautiful little girl who would never go home. He wept. Then he placed her in the grave for the cadaver dogs to find. She was so close in height and size to Meagan, so the police simply accepted it when Harper confirmed her ID as Meagan. God, that was a sad day.”

  Patricia nodded gloomily. Even Harper looked pained. Then he swore.

  “But the damn police wouldn't go away,” he said. “We had done everything as planned and then they went and caught Russell Lee Holmes and realized he had nothing in his little shack that belonged to Meagan. Jesus Christ, how were we supposed to know they'd actually catch the bastard the next week?” He looked at Ann Margaret mutinously. “Your husband was certainly nowhere near as smart as me.”

  She replied dryly, “Thank heavens.”

  “And then what?” David said conversationally. He had gotten three feet closer to Harper. With so many people around, it was best to shorten the distance to the target. Then David realized that Melanie had moved as well. She was almost sitting on top of Jamie's body now, her hand beneath the jacket. What the hell was she doing?

  “Harper sold his soul to the devil, that's what,” Ann Margaret stated. “Sent Jamie into prison to deal with Russell Lee himself. And what a deal it was. All Russell Lee had to do was confess to yet another kid's death, and in return Harper Stokes and Jamie O'Donnell would personally guarantee that our child was raised in style. Everything we could never give him, he would magically have. And while Russell Lee was surely the devil himself, he was damn proud of that boy. What is it about men and their sons?”