“Yes,” Carrie said, hoping the pillow would keep the box from sliding.
She opened the back door, indicated where Faraday could put the carrier on the rug, thanked him, and shut the door.
“We did it!” she told the cat as she let her out and gave her a pat. “Special treats for you when I can go to the store.” Then she lifted the metal box into her arms.
When the box was sitting safely on her kitchen table, Carrie stared at it in dismay. She hadn’t thought about a key. The box was obviously locked, and a lock obviously needed a key. JoAnne had never mentioned a key, and the thing was probably somewhere in her house, possibly on the key board by the back door, probably right next to where Carrie had found the key to the tool shed!
She considered. The lock didn’t look too sturdy. Maybe she could break it.
One screwdriver and two minutes later she had easily popped the lock open. So much for security. But then, JoAnne had only needed protection from gnawing critters.
Carrie looked at the plastic-wrapped parcels inside the box, concentrating so intently she didn’t notice that FatCat was up on the table staring into the box with her. When she started to lay out the contents, she bumped into a cat.
Her reaction was immediate. She flailed her arms, sweeping the cat off and catching the box just in time. FatCat yowled, but obviously only her dignity was hurt, and she stared at Carrie malevolently from the floor.
“Boy, I’ve got to break you of a lot of bad habits,” Carrie told the cat, then turned back to the box, leaving FatCat to nurse her wounded pride.
She pulled open the seal on the first bag and lifted out the contents. Baby things! A pair of pink booties. A delicate gown with lace. A hospital bracelet that said, in pink letters on tiny white beads, “Harrington.”
“Oh, dear God.”
A second package was flatter. Papers. Legal looking. A birth certificate for Susan Elizabeth. Mother: JoAnne Elizabeth Harrington. Father: Henry Jensen King.
It was several minutes before Carrie set the birth certificate aside and picked up the next document. At first it looked almost like a will, but it only took a glance at the words to tell Carrie it was anything but.
There were the “whereas” prefixes and stiff wording—a lawyer document. As she read, Carrie’s heart twisted at the implications of what was being set forth in this paper. Henry Jensen King was renouncing any right or claim to the child, Susan Elizabeth Harrington, as his issue. He, under penalty of law, was forbidden to make any contact with this person as child or adult, or to in any way reveal his identity to her.
Furthermore, Henry Jensen King would have no legal responsibility for this Susan Elizabeth Harrington, either financially or as a parent or guardian. Nor was he to have any future contact with the child’s actual mother, JoAnne Elizabeth Harrington, or with parents who would adopt the child.
Would such a document hold up in court? Surely not, but to Henry, it wouldn’t matter. There was obviously a lot she didn’t know about Henry King, but she knew him well enough to realize he’d never break this compact. He was honorable to a fault. But, then, then... Wouldn’t he hate JoAnne? She, not Irena, must have been the one he was talking about, the one who had caused him so much pain.
Forgiving the earlier indignity, FatCat jumped into Carrie’s lap, leaned against her warm body, and looked up. Absently, Carrie’s hand rubbed down the cat’s back, over and over.
There was one more thing in the box. A small envelope.
“The contents of this box must never be revealed unless there is an absolute medical necessity. Susan Elizabeth has no right to know and, I hope, will never need to know who her birth parents are.”
Carrie understood instantly. One evening last summer when she had been at JoAnne’s house, they watched a special nature program on public television. After the show, a teaser for the next program had been run. It was about adopted children who were trying to locate their natural parents. Carrie was surprised when JoAnne left the program on and intently watched it all.
One of the reasons for seeking birth parents that had been covered during the program was in the instance when family medical history, or even organ donations, were needed. JoAnne hadn’t commented, but it was so unlike her to care about anything on television other than the nature programs that Carrie clearly remembered the evening. And it was only a few days later when JoAnne told her about the hidden box.
As she sat staring out the window, Carrie said aloud, “Dear God, JoAnne, dear God. This is too much for me. Why did you do it? I don’t want to know this! I don’t want to carry this secret. Not now. Especially not now.”
FatCat trod a few careful steps on the soft lap, then curled up in cinnamon-roll fashion and shut her eyes, filling the room with a loud purr. Carrie didn’t notice. She folded her arms on the table and put her head down on them. Like the cat, she shut her eyes, but Carrie made no sound.
She didn’t cry, but if the pain inside had formed into tears, there would have been a lot of them.
Chapter X
“Amos never turned against you, never lied, never wanted to make you suffer.”
Carrie could still hear the anguish in Henry’s voice.
She had supposed his emotion was the result of something Irena had done. Now she was sure it was not Irena, but JoAnne, who had been the cause.
Henry was alone, and Susan’s adoptive parents were dead. It would be natural for him to want to be united with his daughter, but JoAnne and the document she and her family had him sign, as well as Henry’s own stiff integrity, stood in the way.
Carrie tried to picture his thoughts and actions. He must have moved to the area for one of two reasons. Either he was still in love with JoAnne, which she just could not believe, or he hoped that being close to JoAnne would give him a chance to convince her Susan should now be told who her natural parents were.
The strength of JoAnne’s dislike for Henry was puzzling. It had been too intense, even for someone who didn’t like men in general, and cops in particular. He was, after all, father of the child she adored. And, at one time, she surely must have loved him!
Henry’s attitude toward JoAnne was easier to figure out. He must have been unhappy with her because of the forced separation from Susan. Carrie thought back over the few times she had seen Henry and JoAnne together—always as part of a larger group. He had been cool, polite, stiffly proper. But, was there fire behind that ice? She squirmed, thinking about Saturday night at the tourist center. Until now, those few moments had seemed very special, a caring closeness she wanted to treasure, even if she and Henry could never be more than good friends. Irena made no difference to that friendship, nor did Amos; they were in the past. But, JoAnne and Susan—especially Susan and what her existence proved—did make a difference.
What Carrie really wanted to do was phone Henry and say, “I know all about Susan, so tell me the whole story. Just exactly what happened?”
But that was childish and would probably turn Henry against her, shutting him away, burying him deeper inside his own thoughts.
Or would it simply infuriate him? Was there a temper buried there?
She needed to think clearly, more clearly than she ever had in her life! She needed the wisdom of Solomon if she was to help Henry... help everyone.
“Please, God, I don’t know what to do.”
She just didn’t know enough yet. Was it possible Henry didn’t really care about Susan?
If he didn’t care, why did he move here? Thirty years could have given him enough time to wipe Susan out of his memories. How much did he care today?
And did he care enough to kill? What would JoAnne’s murder gain for him? Carrie couldn’t see any gain, unless...
Think, oh think!
Henry must have asked JoAnne to tell Susan about her past.
JoAnne would have refused. Now, JoAnne was dead.
There were the fingerprints in JoAnne’s house. Henry must be involved. Was he angry, and had he...
Carrie rubbed her forehead with two fingers and tried to picture what could have happened. He’d shown no signs of an uncontrollable temper but, under the circumstances, maybe he would have, could have... NO!
If she’d only known about Susan earlier. She’d have convinced JoAnne. JoAnne was a proud women, but Carrie would have convinced her to acknowledge Susan as a daughter.
But wait. JoAnne already
had
Susan. As niece and aunt, the two women were very close, especially now that JoAnne’s sister was dead. So JoAnne really had nothing to gain if her secret was revealed. And, keeping the secret meant she didn’t have to share Susan with Henry!
So just Henry was left out. There would be no way to bring father and daughter together unless the role of the birth mother was revealed. And that, Carrie saw now, was something as unlikely as Ozarks snow in July.
JoAnne was proud of being an example of strong womanhood for Susan, she’d said that often enough. She disdained sexual attraction and believed in a strong moral code. She never would have admitted she was Susan’s unwed mother.
Henry probably thought he could eventually win JoAnne over. Without JoAnne, did he have any proof he was Susan’s father? Was the only proof right here in the box?
There would be records in Kansas City... no, the birth certificate was from some maternity home in New York State.
The records could have been traced, especially if Henry had any idea where Susan was born. But why would he know? It was unlikely JoAnne or her parents had told him.
And, even if Susan knew she was adopted, there was still no guarantee she’d want anything to do with a father who, she might assume—or perhaps had been told—abandoned both child and mother. Only JoAnne could tell her the truth about that.
JoAnne wouldn’t. And now, JoAnne couldn’t.
JoAnne’s death, as Henry must see it, had put an impassable barrier between him and his daughter. No wonder he had shed tears!
And naturally, he couldn’t have killed JoAnne.
Carrie realized with a start that he must have searched JoAnne’s house to look for the very papers she had in front of her. It would have been like JoAnne to taunt him by telling him she had the papers here in Arkansas, using them as her own personal form of punishment for what had happened long ago, but was, until Saturday, very fresh in the minds of at least two people. And now only one of those people was left.
Carrie’s thoughts were leaping wildly.
If he’d searched the house looking for the papers, then he’d been upset enough to forget completely about leaving fingerprints, though, if she was reasoning correctly, he’d known JoAnne was dead by then. Otherwise, he surely wouldn’t have chosen Sunday to search the house.
Stupid, stupid! And he’d been a law officer for thirty years, he should have known better! Everyone knew you wore gloves for committing crimes. Oh! Oh, dear.
Carrie sat up stiffly, and FatCat stirred, then settled. The purring began again.
His crime was... what? Breaking and entering? To some people, it might look like Henry had reasons to kill JoAnne, especially if he had lost his temper, if they had quarreled.
What would the sheriff think? He didn’t know the events or the people who were involved.
Leave it alone, she thought. Let the sheriff and his men do their work.
No, she couldn’t leave it alone. Not now.
Henry really was a good person inside. He had hugged her, comforted her. He’d understood. And he had shed tears. Even the kisses Saturday night meant nothing next to what was revealed in that hug, or those tears. He just could not be a killer. Why, he didn’t even hunt! He probably didn’t even own a gun.
Law enforcement officers dealt only with facts. And cold facts had nothing at all to do with the truth in this case, or with Henry’s fingerprints in JoAnne’s house.
But, what would the sheriff think? She wished she knew just what the sheriff was thinking right now.
And what was she going to do? Well, for one thing, she’d better re-hide the contents of the box.
After going over options inside her house, she decided to put the few important documents she kept at home in the box on top of JoAnne’s papers. She could take Susan’s birth certificate to her own safe deposit box later, if she hadn’t figured out some way to get Henry and his daughter together in the meantime.
When she added her papers to JoAnne’s, there wasn’t enough space left for the baby things. She put the box in a cabinet in her office, then roamed the house, carrying the plastic bag with its tiny reminders of a baby girl who had undoubtedly been loved, but not welcomed, by the parents who conceived and bore her.
After rejecting a number of hiding places, Carrie decided she’d put the bag inside FatCat’s mattress. No one would ever look there. She removed the mattress and down pillow, tucked the plastic bag under the flap in the bottom of the mattress cover, tied it closed again, then fluffed up the down pillow and put it on top. There, that would do, and FatCat, who had been prowling the house with her, would never talk. JoAnne’s cat could guard JoAnne’s secret.
She looked at her watch. Time to get ready to go to the Booths’, but first she’d pick out a book to take to Shirley. She was standing in front of the bookshelves when the phone rang.
“Hi. Dinner’s to be at 6:30, after Roger finishes with milking. Shall I pick you up about 6:15?
Carrie made an instant decision. “Can you come a little early, Henry? We need to talk.”
* * *
She was stepping out of the shower when the phone rang again. Grabbing her towel, she went to the bedroom to answer.
“Carrie, I just saw a bit in the Tulsa paper about your friend JoAnne Harrington being shot! It doesn’t say much. What happened? Um, are you all right?”
“Oh, hello, Evan. There isn’t much to tell, really. She was killed sometime on Saturday and put in the woods behind here, near where... well, you know the area. I found her when I was out for a walk and now all the manpower in the county sheriff’s department is roaming the hills. I don’t know much more than that.”
“How awful for you. I guess it was a hunting accident? Didn’t you tell me she liked to walk in the woods?”