F Paul Wilson - Secret History 02 (51 page)

           
Kara waited for Rob's knock on the
door. He'd called a short while ago asking if they could get together and talk—alone.
He had insisted on alone. The doorman had buzzed up to say that he was here.

           
Alone. Kara wondered at that. And
his voice had sounded funny. Thick, and hesitant. As if he'd had too much to
drink. She hoped he wasn't drinking so early in the day. But if he was, she
guessed it was understandable. After all, he'd killed somebody yesterday.

           
What a shock that seven A.M. call
Tuesday morning. Rob on the phone, very subdued, telling her that Dr. Gates was
dead. Killed by a bullet from his gun. He'd given her most of the details, and
she'd culled more from the eyewitness accounts in the morning paper.

           
Her shock hadn't lasted long. It
quickly turned to joy, to overwhelming relief. She knew that shouldn't be.

           
She shouldn't want to dance and sing
because her psychiatrist was dead, but the news triggered something deep within
her that wanted to pop champagne and shout for joy. She felt like a lifer in
Sing Sing who'd just been let free.

           
The feeling had lasted all day.
She'd wanted to see Rob last night but he had been up for thirty-six grueling
hours by then, with most of the last twelve spent answering questions and
filling out reports. He had wanted only to sleep. Sleep was something that Kara
found elusive for most of the night. She'd felt too up, too buoyant. The
feeling was still with her. It was unsettling to feel so
good
about a man's death.

           
She opened the door as soon as Rob
knocked. He'd chosen a good day for a private tete-a-tete. The cook was off and
Ellen had taken Jill out to lunch at Rumplemeyer's.

           
She went to hug him, figuring he'd
need a hug after what he'd been through yesterday, but Rob brushed past her
without saying a word. A couple of sheets of paper were rolled up in his hand.

           
"It's good to see you, too,
Rob," she said, wondering why he was acting this way.

           
"We alone?" he said,
wandering in a circle around the living room.

           
"Yes. I told you—"

           
"Good. Read this."

           
He handed her the sheets of typed
paper. It was all about her.

           
"What's this?"

           
"It's about someone who was
never married. Who's daughter was born a year earlier than she told me."

           
Kara felt her mouth dry up. She
stared at him.

           
"Then you know."

           
His stood flatfooted with his
shoulders slumped, his face a stricken mask, his brown eyes wide.

           
"She's mine?"

           
"Ours."

           
Kara took a step toward him and
stopped. She'd had this planned for years, how she'd explain all the reasons,
good ones, that had compelled her to leave him in the job he loved while she
raised their child far from the city she could not bear to live in. How she was
going to tell him immediately after the child was born. And how
"immediately" had dragged on and on as she put off telling him that
he was a father indefinitely. Eventually the delay stretched to an unconscionable
length and she became too ashamed to tell him.

           
And even now, as he stood before
her, already aware that Jill was his child, the words threatened to fail her
again.

           
"You've got to understand, Rob.
I—"

           
He began to sob. His chest heaved,
tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Kara was shocked speechless. She
had never seen Rob cry, had never thought he could. She stepped to his side and
touched his arm. She never thought in a million years he would react this way.

           
"Rob, I'm so sorry I never told
you, but—"

           
"She's mine?" he said.
"She's really mine?"

           
"Yes."

           
He smiled then. With tears streaming
down his cheeks he smiled and began laughing between the sobs. It was an awful
sound, and made him look insane.

           
"All the way over I was praying
it was true. Ever since that night when you two had dinner at my apartment
she's been popping into my mind. I keep thinking if I ever had a kid I'd want
her to be like Jill, I'd want her to
be
Jill! And when I'd think about the two of us getting back together I'd think of
maybe even adopting her. But I don't have to adopt her! I'm already her
father!"

           
Kara too felt like laughing and
crying.

           
"But what about all that
bullshit about your husband being killed on the Penn Turnpike? It was so
convincing."

           
"Years of practice. And I
wanted to see how you'd react." She paused. "Then you don't hate
me?"

           
"No! I'm madder'n hell, but I
don't hate you. You did such a great job with her! I think this is the happiest
day of my life!"

           
He hugged her and Kara began to cry
with him.

           
"I'm so glad you found out.
I've been looking for a way to tell you but the time was never right. But I
knew I had to tell you before we went back to Pennsylvania."

           
She felt him stiffen. He pushed her
back to arm's length.

           
"Pennsylvania? You're not
taking her back to Pennsylvania! Not now! Not when I've just learned about
her!"

           
"Rob, that!s where her home is,
that's where she goes to school—"

           
"No way! You've kept me out of
her life for nine and a half years. No more. That little girl needs a father
and I'm going to be it. I don't know how we're going to tell her, and maybe we
won't be able to tell her till she's older, but god damn it, even if she
doesn't call me 'Daddy,' I'm going to
function
as her daddy! Am I making myself clear?"

           
"But Rob—!"

           
The phone cut her off. She went to
answer it.

           
"Tilsdale residence."

           
"Is Miss Kara Wade there?"
said a woman's voice.

           
"Speaking."

           
"One moment please for Mr.
Wheatley."

           
Mr.
Wheatley? Who on earth was
—?

           
"Hello? Miss Kara Wade? This is
Gordon Wheatley, attorney for the estate of Dr. Lawrence Gates. Can you come
over to my office immediately?"

           
Kara could feel sudden tension
coiling within her.

           
"What for?"

           
"This has to do with Dr. Gates'
estate. It's quite important."

           
"I want nothing to do with you
or his estate."

           
"I assure you, it's quite to
your advantage to—"

           
"I'm too busy!"

           
There was a pause, then Mr. Wheatley
sighed.

           
"Then may I come over? It is
extremely important."

           
Kara was taken aback by the request.
She didn't know lawyers made house calls.

           
"How… how long will it take
you?"

           
"Only a few minutes. I'm just a
few blocks away on Park Avenue. And I'll only take a moment of your time."

           
"Okay. I guess—so. But don't be
long."

           
It wasn't long. Kara knew that Rob
was about to lay a guilt trip on her—one she richly deserved—but she managed to
forestall that by telling him about the mystifying call from Dr. Gates'
attorney. It seemed only minutes later that Gordon Wheatley showed up with his
secretary.

           
"This is most irregular,"
he said as he trooped into the living room. He was a thin, waspish man in his
late fifties with wire rimmed glasses and an unruly shock of white hair.
"But Dr. Gates' wishes for his estate have been most irregular since the
day he made out his first will with us twenty years ago."

           
"How so?" Kara said.

           
"I'm not at liberty to discuss
that, as I'm sure you'll understand. But let me say that I would not have been
unhappy if Dr. Gates had taken his legal matters elsewhere long ago."

           
Rob stepped forward.

           
"What's this all about, Mr.
Wheatley?"

           
"This." Mr. Wheatley stuck
his hand out, palm up, toward his secretary. "Miss Capwell?"

           
She placed a small manila envelope
on his palm. Mr. Wheatley in turn handed the envelope to Kara. The envelope was
heavy and it jingled. She didn't like the idea of receiving anything from
Gates, especially after he was dead.

           
"What's this?"

           
"A list of the assets in his
estate and the keys to his home on Twenty-first Street."

           
"But why?"

           
"You own it now."

           
Kara was aghast. She had to sit
down.

           
"I
own
it?"

           
"Yes. You are his sole heir. He
left everything he owned to you. Counting the mines in West Virginia, that
increases your net worth by approximately thirty-two million dollars."