Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's Son\The Brother's Wife\The Long-Lost Heir (18 page)

Valerie sat and stared at the screen. Fear jumbled the words before her eyes and it took her a moment to focus. But her terror turned to horror as she read what Austin Colter had written. It was a suicide note. Hers.

It stated that she couldn't go on because she'd found proof her father really had murdered Adam Kingsley. She was afraid that she was like him, that she had inherited a murderer's genes, and that eventually she, too, might kill.

“My God,” she whispered, thinking how closely the words matched the way she'd felt for thirty-one years. How had he known? she thought. How had Austin discovered her deepest, darkest fear?

Valerie felt the cold metal of the gun against her temple, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He was going to kill her. In a moment she would be dead.

But not without a fight, she decided. She wouldn't make it easy for him. She would not die and let Brant believe her a coward.

Her eyes fell on the letter opener on her desk, and she readied herself to spring for it. Then suddenly, she felt a draft of air on the back of her neck, heard a telltale creak as the front door slowly opened.

Austin heard it, too. She sensed more than felt his hand on the gun tense, and her heart nearly stopped.

“Drop it,” Brant said.

Slowly, Austin turned to face Brant, but he kept his arm around Valerie's throat. “This doesn't concern you,” he said.

“Like hell it doesn't.” Brant moved around the room, keeping his gun pointed at Austin.

“I'll shoot her,” Austin warned.

“No, you won't. It's all over.”

“Not if I kill you both.” Valerie felt his arm tighten around her neck.

“Two deaths won't be so easy to explain,” Brant said. “Let her go.”

“Do you know who she is?” Austin asked. “Do you know what the woman you're trying to protect has done to you?”

Valerie closed her eyes.
No,
she thought.
Please, no. Not like this.

“Her name is Violet Brown. Isn't that right?” Austin's arm tightened against her throat even more. “Isn't it?”

Valerie closed her eyes as pain ripped through her.

“Isn't it?”

She could only manage a weak nod. His arm was cutting off her wind, and she knew in a moment she would pass out.

But then, incredibly, Austin's grip eased. “She's Cletus Brown's daughter, Brant. Don't you see? She's been playing you for a fool all along, using you to destroy your own father. She's lied to you from the beginning.”

Valerie could feel Brant's eyes on her. She forced her gaze to meet his.

“Is that true?” he asked.

“Answer him,” Austin commanded, the muscles in his arm tensing.

Valerie nodded. “It's true,” she said painfully. “My real name is Violet Brown.”

In the soft glow of the computer screen, she saw something in Brant's dark eyes she couldn't bear. Hate. Disgust. Betrayal. Then his gaze returned to Austin.
“That doesn't justify what you were about to do. Let her go,” he said again.

“She'll ruin us all,” Austin replied. She could hear the desperation and fear in his voice, and knew that he could easily be pushed into doing something stupid.

Brant knew it, too. He lowered his gun to his side. “Let's both put down the guns. Let's talk about this for a moment. There's got to be some other way.”

Valerie felt Austin hesitate. “What other way?”

“We're Colters,” Brant said. “I'm a cop and you're a D.A. We can figure this thing out. Discredit her somehow. Use who she is against her. Look at the resources we have between us. By the time we get finished with her, it won't matter what she writes. No one will believe a word she says. Hell, we can probably even get her thrown in jail, right alongside her old man.”

Valerie wanted to believe that Brant was just trying to buy them both some time; that he was, in actuality, trying to save her life. But the cold, empty look he gave her made her shudder with dread. Made her wonder if she'd pushed him too far.

“I don't believe you,” Austin said. “You've never been that kind of cop.”

“I've never been made a fool of by a woman out to destroy my family,” Brant returned. “I don't much care for the feeling.”

Again Austin hesitated, as if he wanted badly to believe what Brant was saying. Hiring someone to kill her was one thing. Doing it himself, in cold blood, was quite another. “What do you have in mind?”

“The fact that she's Cletus Brown's daughter should do, for starters,” Brant said. He turned and started to pace, the gun hanging at his side. “And I'm sure once
we start digging, we'll find all sorts of interesting things we can use.”

“It won't work,” Austin said. “Even if I believed you'd really help me, she knows too much. She'd make someone listen to her.”

His grip eased from Valerie's throat as he turned to watch Brant pace. The gun slipped from her temple just long enough for Valerie to lunge to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Austin raise the gun toward her as she rolled for cover.

A shot rang out, barely missing her.

Another shot rang out, and Austin stumbled backward, crashing into her computer as he fell to the floor.

Valerie knew immediately that he was dead. She lifted her gaze to where Brant stood with his weapon still raised. Their eyes met briefly, and then, as if in slow motion, the gun slipped from his hand to the floor.

Without a word, he turned and strode from the room.

* * *

A
T POLICE HEADQUARTERS
, when Valerie was called in to give her statement, Brant avoided her. She saw him in Hugh Rawlins's office, but he barely acknowledged her presence. Instead he got up and strode from the room, leaving an aching silence in his wake.

So that was that, Valerie thought, trying to tell herself it didn't matter. She'd accomplished what she'd set out to do. Her father would soon be a free man. The end justified the means, didn't it?

Apparently not to Brant. His actions made it plain that he would never forgive her for deceiving him.

If he would just give her a chance to explain, she could somehow make him understand.

But he was hurt and embittered by her deception, and Valerie couldn't blame him.

And you put such stock in the truth,
he'd once taunted her.

Yes, but only when the truth suited her. Only when the truth didn't complicate her plans.

After she'd given her statement, Captain Rawlins asked her to remain in his office while everyone else left. When they were alone, he said, “I realize what I'm about to ask you is a little unusual, and you can refuse if you want. God knows, you have every right.” He closed his eyes briefly, and Valerie realized suddenly how the night's events had affected him, too. He wasn't a Colter, but he was a close family friend. That friendship had been used and betrayed for over thirty years. “Raymond Colter is in custody downstairs. He wants to see you.”

Valerie's heart thudded against her chest. “Why?”

Hugh shrugged. “Will you talk to him?”

Talk to the man who had framed her father thirty-one years ago?

Why not?
Valerie thought. As a matter of fact, she had a few things she would like to say to him.

* * *

V
ALERIE HAD NEVER MET
Raymond Colter, but she would have known him anywhere. He had the same dark hair—sprinkled with gray—and the same dark eyes she'd seen in all the other Colters. But Raymond's eyes were no longer cold with arrogance. His were the eyes of a defeated old man.

He sat at a small wooden table as Valerie was led into
the holding room. He rose when she entered, and for a moment, they gazed at each other silently.

Valerie's throat constricted painfully. Confronting the man who had framed her father wasn't as easy as she'd once thought it would be. Raymond Colter seemed almost pitiful to her now. Almost.

He glanced down at his hands. “I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't expect your father to forgive me, either, but I wanted you to know that it was nothing personal.”

Valerie blinked. “Nothing personal?”

“I didn't have anything against Cletus Brown. I didn't even know him. I'd heard about him, though, through his brother-in-law. The two of us got acquainted when I used to moonlight for the Kingsleys. I knew Odell hated Cletus. He would have done anything to get him away from his sister.”

Valerie moistened her suddenly dry lips. “You paid him to lie for you.”

“I gave him part of the ransom money. Not a lot, but enough to satisfy him.”

“Did he help you kidnap Adam?”

Raymond shook his head. “No. It wasn't him. There was this woman named Sally Hoffeinz. She was a widow. Had lost her husband and kid, a little boy, in a car crash. It did something to her. She wasn't right somehow. I dated her a few times—nothing serious on my part—but she got…attached to me. I think she somehow got it twisted in her mind that I was her husband. She would have done anything for me.”

“Even help you kidnap a child?” Valerie asked.

“Yeah,” Raymond said. “Even that. Only, she went off the deep end when I took the kid. After the ransom
drop, I was going to take the boy out into the country somewhere and dump him, you know, where he'd be found in a day or two. But then Sally up and disappeared with him.”

Valerie stared at him in shock. “You mean you didn't kill Adam Kingsley?” She wasn't sure if she believed him or not. He was a man fighting for his life, after all.

“As it happened, we were looking for the Tyler kid, too. I had a pretty good idea the stepfather was responsible for the kid's disappearance, so I paid him a little visit. After hours. Convinced him to show me where the body was. I'd taken Adam's pajamas and the blanket from Sally, because I thought the Kingsleys might have to be convinced I had the boy. I put the pajamas on the Tyler kid's body, reasonably certain the Kingsleys would be satisfied the body was Adam's.” There was a strange glint in his eyes. Valerie wondered if it was madness. “I knew Iris Kingsley would put pressure on the department to get the body released as quickly as possible, so they could bury the boy and start putting the tragedy behind them. Her son had a political campaign to focus on, and I knew she wouldn't want the distractions prolonged. That was the way she was.”

“So you're saying you not only kidnapped a child and framed an innocent man,” Valerie said in horror, “but you let a murderer go free.”

Raymond's eyes were beginning to glaze over. Valerie wasn't sure how much longer he would remain coherent. “I had to. I knew if Adam's body wasn't found, they'd never stop looking for him. And even if the Kingsleys gave up, Judd wouldn't have. He would have searched
the four corners of the earth for that boy. He was the best, after all,” Raymond said bitterly.

In that instant, Valerie began to see Judd Colter in a new light. She thought about the night her father had been arrested, the way Judd Colter had treated him. Valerie understood now. Judd Colter had truly believed her father was a kidnapper, a man who had murdered an innocent child; and Judd's rage had been so great, he hadn't been able to contain it.

Given the same evidence, would she have behaved any differently?

Valerie took a deep breath. She let her eyes meet Raymond Colter's for the last time. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“It'll all come out at the trial,” he said, then shrugged. “Like I said, I don't expect you to forgive me. But I figured I owed you something.”

H
E'D BEEN IN PRISON
for a long time. So long he sometimes lost count of the years. The only thing he knew for sure was that he would never get out. He'd known it the day he'd been convicted. The witness that might have come forward on his behalf had disappeared soon after he'd been arrested, and the evidence that would have cleared him had long since been destroyed.

Cletus Brown was past sixty now, an old man. He'd been locked up for half his life. He could barely remember what his life had been like on the outside; or what his wife and young daughter had looked like.

Grace would be nearly as old as he if she'd lived, and little Violet would be in her thirties. Thirty-six, to be exact. Sometimes it was still hard to believe they were both gone from his life. There was no one on the outside who cared about him anymore. No one who even remembered him. He would die in here, the state would bury him, and that would be that.

No one would ever know the truth about the night little Adam Kingsley was kidnapped. Cletus would take his secrets to the grave with him, not because he wanted it that way, but because there was no one left who would listen to him.

He stared out the sealed window of his prison cell and watched the sunrise—as much of it as he could see. He
closed his eyes and tried to remember what it felt like to have the hot Tennessee sun beating down on his face. But it was no use. His memories had died long ago.

A guard named Tyrell, who had been at the prison almost as long as Cletus, stopped in front of his cell. “You've got a visitor, Cletus. A real looker, they tell me.”

Cletus hadn't had a visitor in over fifteen years. Slowly he turned and faced the guard.

“Well, come on,” Tyrell urged. “I don't have all day.”

Cletus shuffled over to the door and allowed himself to be handcuffed and his ankles shackled. Then the cell door opened and the guard led him to the visitors' area, where he took a seat behind a Plexiglas partition fitted with a small speaker. A young woman in a red suit sat on the other side.

For a moment, Cletus stared at her, speechless. He couldn't believe his eyes. He pressed his shaking hand to the cool glass and tried to blink back the tears that sprang to his eyes.

“Grace?” he whispered, fearing the vision would vanish if he spoke too loudly.

The woman smiled. An angel's smile. Grace's smile. She put her hand up to the glass and pressed it to his. “It's Violet,” she said through the speaker. “I've come to take you home, Daddy.”

* * *

V
ALERIE SHADED HER EYES
against the glaring sun as she walked outside the building and headed across the prison parking lot, toward her car. She wasn't sure if her eyes were stinging from the sun or from unshed tears.

Her father wouldn't be released immediately, she'd
discovered. There was red tape involved, certain procedures that had to be followed, but it was only a formality. In a few days—weeks at the most—he would be a free man, and he and Valerie could start a new life together. Just the two of them.

The tears started again, and Valerie wiped an impatient hand across her face, telling herself it didn't matter that Brant hadn't called her; hadn't tried to get in touch with her. He had a lot on his mind. His family was going through a nightmare right now, and Valerie was a part of their torment. If she'd never come to town, never started asking questions—

Her father would have died in prison, she reminded herself.

She took a deep breath. Maybe it was for the best that she and Brant go their separate ways. Maybe it was for the best that they put all this behind them—

She came to an abrupt halt when she looked up and saw Brant leaning against her car. Then slowly she started toward him.

“I thought I might find you here.” He glanced at the prison behind her. “Did you see him?”

Valerie nodded, unable to speak.

“I take it the meeting went well.”

She struggled with her emotions for a moment, then said, “He didn't believe me when I told him everything that had happened. Brant, you should have seen his face—” She broke off, pressing her fingertips to her lips. “I'm sorry. I know this is a difficult time for your family. For you.”

She saw the anguish in his eyes and wanted to reach out to him, but how could she? She was a part of that anguish.

“You saved my life,” she said softly. “He would have killed me.”

“I know.” Brant gazed down at her. “I'd do the same thing again. Without hesitation. But it doesn't make it any easier to sleep at night.”

Valerie nodded in understanding. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about who I really am. But I couldn't. I didn't think I could—”

“Trust me?”

“You're a Colter,” she said miserably.

“Yeah. I'm a Colter.” There was something in his voice, something in his eyes, that made Valerie feel so sad for him.

Before she could stop herself, she reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “I was wrong about your father. He was just doing his job. I know that now. He was a good cop, Brant. He cared so much about that little boy.”

For the first time, Brant's mood seemed to lighten. “There'll never be another like him. Or so I've been told.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Valerie said. “I can think of one cop who is at least his equal.”

His eyes met hers, and this time, the emotion in those dark depths made her heart melt. She bit her lip. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“The question is,” he said softly, “can you ever forgive my family? Can you ever forget that I'm a Colter?”

“I don't want to forget,” Valerie said. “I like you for who you are. I might even love you,” she added, surprising them both.

“Might?”
He smiled, and Valerie wanted to shout for joy. It was as if a dark cloud had been lifted from her
world. He took her hand and pulled her against him. She went without the slightest bit of resistance. “That's very interesting,” he said. “Because as it happens, I might love you, too.”

He kissed her then, in a deep, slow exploration of their growing feelings. After a while, he pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “So, tell me something. Do you think a Yankee girl like you could get used to living in all this heat?”

She smiled. “You're forgetting something. I was born in Memphis. I'm a true Southerner at heart. This is my home, Brant. Now and forever.”

“I like the sound of that,” he said, before he dipped his head and kissed her again.