He found it quickly, flipping through the pages once he had the scrapbook on a table. The birth certificate and its little footprints caught his eye. Bannon paused there, reading the information on the form more closely.
Slipping a finger under the plastic, he eased the form out, remembering that there were two copies when he saw an identical one beneath the first. He inspected the embossed official seal. It would be easy to find the hospital where she'd been born so he could compare hers to her brother's, see if it all matched.
If the addresses were different, he'd have more leads and other people to talk to. Shouldn't be a problem. Flashing tin at nervous clerks had netted him a lot of useful documents in the past.
Yes, sir. Happy to help. Bow and scrape.
He didn't mind taking advantage of minor bureaucrats.
Bannon flipped through more pages, looking intently at the photos, and then finding the handcrafted card. That he took over to the light. The handwriting was wobbly, with none of the polish of the calligraphy on the store-bought card. But there were those same damn words. His brows knitted as he stared at them.
The soft sound of the dog exhaling was enough to startle him. But Charlie was asleep.
Great. No witnesses, he thought wryly. But he hated to take even scraps of paper from her without asking. His gaze moved over the shelves and settled on a row of bulky shapes surrounding her widescreen monitor. Scanner. Backup hard drive. And a printer-slash-copier, exactly what he needed.
He pressed the power button on the printer-copier. A small green light came on. Then he checked the paper tray. Almost full, good to go. He slid the birth certificate onto the glass and pressed the start button, then took it out and photocopied the card.
Doing both took less than a minute, although it didn't entirely ease his conscience. He folded the copies and tucked them into his shirt pocket. Then Bannon stepped over Charlie, heading for the table where he'd left the scrapbook. He put both originals back exactly as he'd found them, trying to make no noise with the protective plastic, and closed the book. Once it was safely back in the box and that put away, he left, pulling the door shut behind him and locking it.
Bannon squatted down to replace the key under the mat. Then he took off, not pulling over until he reached a town that was big enough for him to pick up a decent wi-fi signal in the parking lot of a new-looking strip mall. He reached into his pocket and unfolded the copies he'd made, entering the name of the hospital on the birth certificate in the search bar.
A couple of hits appeared way down on page five of the search results.
Just as he'd thought. The hospital was no longer in existence. No biggie. He clicked on a bookmarked database for paramedics and first responders and keyed in a couple of useful codes, then spent about thirty minutes figuring out where the hospital's paper records had ended up.
At yet another hospital. Not at the same location. Farther away. Bannon pulled up a map, memorized it, then shut down the laptop and headed that way
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An hour later, he was walking through basement corridors that gleamed under narrow bars of fluorescent light, to the records department. He could see the door from where he wasâa half door with a section of counter built in to it. The bottom part was closed and the top part had been left open.
The sound of his footsteps got someone's attention in there. A balding man in a shirt that was too large for him reached the other side of the door just as Bannon was about to knock on the counter.
“May I help you?”
“I hope so.” Bannon reached for his badge and opened the flat leather case that held it, putting his thumb over the name on his ID. The clerk didn't seem to notice that little maneuver, even though his eyes widened at the sight of the badge.
“What do you need, Officer?”
Bannon gave him an amiable smile. “Nothing too difficult. I'm trying to track down a birth certificate for a baby boy.”
“What kind of case is it?” the clerk asked eagerly. “I watch all the police shows. True crime too.”
Bannon nodded. “It isn't anything exciting. Sorry.” He reached into his shirt pocket and unfolded the photocopy of Erin's birth certificate. “The boy was her brother. He died before she was born, and that was, oh, twenty-seven years ago.”
The clerk whipped a pad onto the counter and made notes as he read the information on Erin's certificate. “Male child's age at death?”
“Under two years,” Bannon answered.
The clerk did a little math. “Then that would be more than thirty years ago. Goodness. That block of files is a little disorganized, but I think I can help you. May I use this for reference?” He held up Erin's birth certificate.
Couldn't the guy remember a name like Randall? For some reason, Bannon was reluctant to let go of the copy. But all he said was, “Of course.”
The clerk folded it in half and pointed the pencil at him. “One more thing. Do you know the birth month of the male child?”
“No. This is just to confirm a couple of details. Like I said, nothing exciting.”
“Is that all you need? I could get you a death certificate,” the clerk offered. “That is, if the decedent had been admitted to the old hospital. If not, then he's not in the system. The female child will be, of course. But you have that certificate.”
Male child. Female child. Decedent. Not in the system. The clerk's officiousness annoyed Bannon, who tried not to show it. The guy couldn't be making much of a living at a job like this, so maybe he had to make what he did sound important.
“You could also obtain a copy from the county bureau of records,” the man was saying.
Something he hadn't thought of. It might be interesting. “Let's start with the birth certificate,” Bannon replied.
The clerk pushed a pen and several forms at him that asked questions about who he was and why he was requesting the certificates. For something to do while he waited for Bannon to fill in the blanks, the clerk got busy feeding pencils into a whining electric sharpener near the counter part of the door.
The noise made Bannon grit his teeth. And the forms made him reach for his wallet. Given that he hadn't been officially reinstated, he didn't feel like answering any questions. He took out a fifty, slapped it down on the forms, and pushed them back toward the clerk.
“Ahâcertainly. One copy or two?” the clerk asked, quickly scooping up the bill and putting away the forms.
“One oughta do it.”
The other man gave him a conspiratorial wink and walked away.
Bannon settled into an uncomfortable plastic chair and waited. The clerk returned in twenty minutes with a photocopied birth certificate. “Here you go. I added an official seal in case you need it. And ohâhere's the one you gave me.” He put both certificates side by side on the counter for Bannon's inspection.
The names and sex and dates were different, but one thing was not. Bannon drew in a sharp breath. The footprints were identical on both forms. He muttered a thank-you to stall the clerk and looked again, hard, to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
He wasn't. The footprints were exactly alike. Tiny toes in the same position. Every fine crease in the same place on the soles.
There was only one explanation for that. One of the certificates had to be a forgery. The footprints of one baby had served to legitimize another, born a few years later.
Bannon's intent gaze moved over both certificates and picked up another difference, more subtle than the first. The official seals were not identicalâthe emblem was, but not the Latin words of the state motto. He wasn't going to give the officious clerk a reason to remember him by pointing out the discrepancy. Bannon folded Erin's document and put it into his pocket. “And thanks for the gold seal,” he added offhandedly, picking up the certificate for Erin's brother and squinting at it. “What does it say? I never was too good at that state stuffâthe flower, the bird, and all that.”
“Do you mean the motto?”
“Yeah.”
The clerk's thin chest puffed up under his shirt. He looked like a kid who had the answer to everything and was about to spout off in front of a classroom. “The official motto of the state of Virginia is
Sic Semper Tyrannis
. I believe it means âThus Always To Tyrants.'”
“Oh. Interesting.” Bannon folded up the second photocopy and put it into his shirt pocket. He didn't know what the Latin words on Erin's seal meant, but they were different, that was for damn sure. And he was going to find a translation website the second he got home.
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He drove fast, stopping only once at a drive-through place for a bucket of chicken à la grease. That got left on the kitchen counter while he booted up his laptop and found a free Latin translation site.
Bannon typed in the words that circled the seal on Erin's birth certificate.
Veritas Temporis Filia
. The thin line of the cursor blinked in the blank space for the translation.
Preoccupied, he heard the bucket of chicken move on the counter a second before it hit the kitchen floor. “Babaloo! Damn it!” He jumped up and went in to deal with the cat, whose green eyes sparked as he crouched over a deep-fried thigh, prepared to defend it tooth and claw. The rest of the chicken was scattered on the floor. Bannon cursed a blue streak and picked the pieces up with paper towels, throwing them back in the bucket and stuffing the whole mess into the metal garbage can, then slamming down the lid.
He washed his hands under the sink tap as the cat slunk off to feast somewhere else; then he returned to the living room.
The translation was waiting for him. The cursor blinked at the end of the sentence. He read it aloud.
“Truth is the daughter of time.”
Bannon blew out a long, slow breath as he sat back. What the hell did that mean?
CHAPTER 12
T
he sunny room was too warm. Unsteadily, Montgomery sat down on the couch in his study, overwhelmed by dizziness. Attempting to summon up the strength to fight it, he told himself not to lean back and realized that he had. He tried to focus on the mantel clock when it chimed. Several seconds ticked away until the blur resolved itself into an antique face and slender hands at a right angle. Half past two.
Vaguely he thought that a man his age was allowed an afternoon nap. He stayed where he was. Cradled in soft cushions, his head seemed too heavy for him to lift. The sensation was disturbing.
Distantly, he heard Caroline's shrill voice calling him but he ignored it and let his eyes close.
The drapes were drawn when he awoke, feeling groggy. There were voices in the room and people behind him. Who? Montgomery focused on the clock's face. The slender hands had joined at six-thirty.
Silky hair brushed his cheek and a subtle fragrance stimulated his memory.
“Monty? Talk to me,” Caroline said anxiously. “Dr. Ehrlich is here.” She was bending over him, standing behind the couch. A middle-aged man moved into his field of vision, which seemed to have narrowed.
“Ms. Loudon asked me to stop in,” he said, almost apologetically. “She said she couldn't wake you.”
“I'm awake,” Montgomery said.
“That's good,” the doctor said. “Very good. But just to be on the safe side, I'd like to take your blood pressure.”
“No need.”
Caroline came around to where he could see her, with her arms folded across her chest. “Please cooperate, Monty.”
“Why?” he asked dully. “You probably tried to poison me.”
Her eyes widened with shock and she dropped the pose, turning to the doctor, whose gaze moved over the older man in quick assessment. Then he put a calming hand on her shoulder and guided her away from the couch.
Did they think he was deaf? He heard every word of the doctor's low reply. But the sense of it escaped him.
“Confusion is one symptom. . . . He's a little aggressive. . . . No telling what . . .”
Caroline answered the doctor in a whisper as Monty closed his eyes again. He stayed awake. He could feel their footsteps through the soles of his feet as they returned.
“It was a joke. Lunch was too heavy. There's nothing much the matter with me.”
Caroline eased onto the couch beside him. “I'll be the judge of that,” she said with feigned warmth. “Now that the doctor's here, I'm sure you don't want to go to the emergency room. You know how long it can take sometimes.”
He'd had his share of tumbles from riding, and the occasional broken bone. The thought of being parked on a gurney until some snot-nosed intern got around to examining him roused Montgomery out of his torpor. “I suppose you're right.”
Dr. Ehrlich went to the chair opposite, where he had set a large, multipocketed briefcase, its flap opened wide. He took a curled stethoscope out of one pocket and unfolded it, putting it around his neck. Then he removed a portable blood pressure monitor and came to where Montgomery was sitting.
With deft fingers, Caroline removed his cufflink and began to roll up his sleeve, stroking his bared skin as if she wanted to soothe him. He found her touch intensely irritating. Montgomery pulled his arm away and finished rolling up his sleeve himself.
A tiny frown settled between her perfect eyebrows as she gave up and moved aside. The doctor wrapped the cuff tightly around Montgomery's upper arm and held the cold disk of the stethoscope against the inside of his elbow, not saying anything as he listened and watched the readout.
Caroline was silent. Montgomery was grateful for that.
The doctor frowned when the display beeped. “I don't like that number.” He lifted the stethoscope disk and took the earpieces out. “I'm afraid we need to have a little talk, Mr. Montgomery.”
Montgomery ripped off the blood pressure cuff. “You're not my doctor.”
“Your pressure is sky-high. Caroline told me that your cardiologist recommended medication. Have you been taking it?”
He wouldn't answer. Caroline did it for him.
“No, he hasn't.”
Montgomery threw her a contemptuous look. “Did you count the pills, Caro?”
She lifted her beautiful head high. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Will you excuse me for a moment, Dr. Ehrlich?”
The doctor nodded and put away the tools of his trade, avoiding Montgomery's steady gaze. Both men heard her heels clicking and, far away, the faint sound of a cabinet door slamming. It wasn't long before she'd rejoined them. Her long fingers clutched several pill bottles. Visibly shaking, she tossed them onto the coffee table.
“I don't know what to do. He just won't take them.”
The doctor glanced down at the jumble of bottles, then gave her a puzzled look. “But these are mostly empty. Someone hasâ” He stopped when he caught her furious glare at Montgomery.
“You dumped them,” Caroline hissed.
Montgomery only shrugged.
The doctor studied his reluctant patient for a long moment. “You do know that you're flirting with disaster.”
Montgomery's response was cold. “Maybe I don't care.”
“You should.”
Caroline gave him a pleading look. “He's right, Monty.”
Making a fierce effort, Montgomery rose from the couch, refusing the helping hand the doctor extended to him.
“As you can see, I'm fine,” he said in a low voice.
The doctor shook his head and packed up his briefcase. “High blood pressure is nothing to fool around with. I suggest you call your cardiologist as soon as possible.”
Standing, Montgomery towered over him. “Thank you for coming.” His tone was anything but grateful. “Caroline will see you out.”
She pressed her lips together, saying nothing as she ushered Dr. Ehrlich into the hall. Montgomery stayed upright, bracing himself with one hand on the back of the couch. He wasn't sure he could get up again if he allowed himself the luxury of sitting back down.
In another few minutes, she stalked back in. “You made a fool out of me.”
He laughed harshly. “Did I ruin your dramatic scene? I'm not sorry. You should have looked at the bottles.”
“Is that my fault?” she cried. “Why did you throw the pills away? I know you did, there were lots of them yesterday!”
“To get you off my back. I knew you'd taken the bottles out of the cabinet. I had them arranged in alphabetical order. You didn't put them back right.”
“This is crazy. Monty, you could die if you don't take them!”
“I feel fine.” He didn't. It cost him to keep standing. His hands tightened on the back of the couch. She didn't seem to notice that his knuckles were white.
Caroline waved that away, then pointed her finger at him accusingly. “You are going to your cardiologist tomorrow if I have to drag you there!”
“You can't make me.”
A frustrated scream choked in her throat. “Damn it, Monty! Stop acting like a child!”
He gazed at her calmly and kept his voice calm. It was ridiculously easy to get Caroline mad. “I think you just described yourself.”
She began to pace the room, walking fast, working off her righteous anger.
“Something is the matter with you,” she said at last. “I apologize for caring.”
“I rather doubt you're all that interested in my health, Caroline.”
She whirled around, her hands on her hips. He liked her like thisâready to fight.
“What if I hadn't found you in time?”
His shoulders moved in an indifferent shrug. “Nothing happened. Why are you carrying on like this?”
“You heard Dr. Ehrlich. He's trying to help you, but you just won't listenâorâor let anyone help or get closeâ”
He almost swayed where he stood, but forced himself to be still. Blood pounded in his ears. “Closeness is overrated. Someone always gets hurt.”
“Monty, you can't keep pretending that you'll live forever.”
“I have no such illusions,” he replied grimly.
“Let me take care of you. Is that too much to ask after all this time?”
He held up a hand. “Stop it. I don't want anyone taking care of me, least of all you. We aren't going to marry. Get that through your head.”
“You're behaving irrationally,” she snapped. “Dr. Ehrlich said so.”
“A brilliant diagnosis, considering I never met the man before today.”
“He's aâa friend of a friend. And he was the only doctor who would come to the house!”
“Ah, yes. I was curious about that. Do you mind if I ask how you persuaded him? He's not your type. Not good-looking and too conscientious by half.” He smiled when she shot him a hateful look. “But he will send a bill. Are you going to pay it, Caro? Because I intend to rip it up.”
“Monty, you need help!”
His eyes glittered. “You can't grab the reins. Don't try.”
“I'm notâ”
He took a deep breath and shifted the position of his braced hands before he spoke again.
“I want you to leave, Caroline. Of your own accord.”
Her beautiful eyes glowed with angry fire at the blunt challenge. “I can't.”
“You mean you won't. Scared?”
She didn't answer.
“It's not that hard,” he taunted her. “Open a suitcase. Fill it up. Take whichever car you likeâyou can keep it.”
“I live here. With you.” The reply was issued through gritted teeth. “It's been years, Monty.”
He sighed. “Not very happy years, were they? Why did you stay?”
Tears shone in her eyes, and a few of them spilled over. She dashed at them, smearing her makeup, before she swallowed hard. “I stayed because I love you. And I still do.”
Monty's expression was bland. “No, you don't. You never did.”
Caroline turned her back on him and rushed out of the study.
He waited another minute, then staggered to the armchair and collapsed.
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Much later, waiting up, Caroline heard him go into his bedroom. He had been unwellâthey had been together long enough for her to know it for a certainty. She moved closer to his room from where she was standing at a turn in the upstairs hall, biding her time as he went through a pre-sleep ritual she couldn't see but that was as familiar to her as her own.
A brief shower, followed by a vigorous drying-off. Clothes and towels kicked to one side for the housemaid to deal with. The heavy door of his great-grandfather's mahogany wardrobe squeaked open. That was another piece of furniture she hatedâit reminded her of a huge coffin. She knew he was taking out a pair of monogrammed pajamas from a built-in drawer.
Caroline could imagine his tall, still-fit frame properly clad in striped, piped flannel. All buttoned up. Safe from her, she thought angrily. She couldn't hear him ease between the covers and lay his head on the pillow, but she knew that was next. He had a habit of staring at the ceiling before he fell asleep. She'd watched him do it often enough. But it had been a long time since her body had been next to his.
No matter what he insinuated, she had never cheated on him. She regretted being so noble. Listening and waiting in the dim light of the hall, Caroline happened to catch a glimpse of her worried expression in a mirror on the wall and scowled. So much for getting her beauty sleep tonight.
His attitude toward the doctor was no surprise. Monty hated to seem weak. No matter what, he had to be in charge.
Don't grab the reins.
Her lawyer would do that for her. Caroline's lips curved in a small but triumphant smile. It was high time Monty got taken down a peg. The Loudons were his social equals, but his fortune had tipped that balance.
She had waited too long, played her game carelessly. Beauty hadn't been enough. Unfortunately, her looks were fading fast and she was obviously replaceable. Caroline didn't believe one word he said about that girl he'd hired to do a painting of his stupid horse. Erin Randall was way too pretty.
It enraged Caroline that he had been so cynical about her last-ditch declaration of love. He could have let that slide, left her a little dignity, even if he was smart enough not to believe her.
To hell with him.
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Insomnia was his new best friend. Sleep, when it came, gave him troubled dreams. Lying awake was preferable. Montgomery waited until he heard Caroline head for her own bedroom and listened to her close the door with a sharp click. He turned his head and looked at the smooth, plump pillow next to his. Without emotion, he tried to remember how long it had been since Caroline's head had rested there. Quite a while.