The Last Time I Saw You

There had been a few times before Annabelle was born that Kate wondered if she’d made the right decision. On the day of her wedding, Blaire’s angry words had echoed in her mind, and she wondered if she was just marrying Simon on the rebound. But Jake was gone. She allowed herself a fleeting moment to wish it was him waiting for her on the altar, and then pushed him out of her mind. After all, she did love Simon.

A loud horn made her look up as the five of them walked across Pratt Street to the offices of Barton and Rothman, a downtown Baltimore landmark of steel and glass that resembled a pyramid made from Lego blocks. Barton and Rothman went back to the days when Kate’s great-great-grandfather Evans founded his real estate firm, which had grown into an empire, and Gordon’s great-great-grandfather had invested and managed the money. From that day to this, their families had been intertwined, and her family’s money had been in his family’s capable hands. Gordon, who was a partner now, was an astute and shrewd investor, but unfortunately he had failed to inherit the charm or appeal of his forebears.

She shivered as the wind kicked up, pulling Annabelle closer to her as she adjusted her daughter’s wool hat. The sidewalks were crowded with people—office workers, the men in suits and heavy overcoats, the women in stylish hooded parkas. There were sightseers in bulky down jackets strolling around the Inner Harbor, where Christmas decorations blazed from every store window. Kate found herself searching faces again, looking for anyone who seemed suspicious, someone who might be watching her. The muscles in her face were tight, her whole body on full alert.

As soon as they entered the building, Annabelle skipped to the elevator bank. “Can I push the button?” she asked, hopping up and down.

“Of course,” Kate said.

On the twenty-fourth floor, the elevator doors opened to the reception area of Barton and Rothman, the financial planning and advising firm. Sylvia, who’d been with the firm for as long as Kate could remember, rose from her chair behind the reception desk to greet them.

“Dr. Michaels, Kate, Simon,” she said. “Gordon is waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Harrison said.

Kate hung back a moment. “Sylvia, do you have an empty conference room or office where my daughter and our nanny might sit while we meet?”

“Certainly. I’ll settle them in. You know the way to Gordon’s office,” she said and led Hilda and Annabelle down the hall in the other direction.

Gordon stood at his office door. “Good morning. Come in,” he said, shaking Harrison’s hand, giving Simon a curt nod, and then reaching out to Kate. His hand felt puffy and moist as it wrapped over hers, but as she attempted to pull it away, his fingers closed more tightly around hers, and he leaned forward to try and give her a hug. She took a breath, pulling away from him, and seated herself in one of the three leather chairs in front of his desk.

“Would you like coffee or tea?” Gordon asked, not taking his eyes off Kate.

Harrison cleared his throat. “No, thank you. Let’s get this over with quickly.”

Gordon walked back to his desk, bowed slightly, and pulled at the bottom of his vest before sitting down. Simon had always said that Gordon was pompous, but Kate knew he also grudgingly respected his brilliance at financial management.

“It is a very sad task we have before us today,” Gordon began, and Kate sighed, waiting for him to get on with it. He always managed to sound like he’d fallen straight off the pages of Bleak House.

“As I’m sure you know, Harrison, your wife’s will states very clearly that half of her estate goes to your daughter, and a portion of that in trust for your granddaughter.”

Harrison nodded. “Yes, of course. I was here with Lily when she made that provision.”

Kate looked at her father. “I don’t think it’s right,” she objected. “It should just be the trust for Annabelle. The rest should go to you.” Kate didn’t think she and Simon needed the money. They had plenty of income between their salaries and Kate’s trust, and her parents had given them a very generous check that allowed them to buy the land and build their own home.

“No, Kate. This is what your mother wanted. Her parents’ estate was handled the same way. I don’t care about the money. I just wish she were still here …” His voice broke.

“Still—” she began, but Simon interrupted her.

“I agree with your father. If that’s what she wanted, we need to respect that.”

A look crossed Harrison’s face, and Kate thought she read annoyance in his eyes. Simon’s interjection irritated her too. It wasn’t his place to say anything, really.

“I must agree with Simon on this,” Gordon said, and Kate cocked her head, knowing how much he must have hated to agree with Simon on anything. “The estate is quite sizable. Thirty million to Harrison and thirty million to you, Kate, with ten of that put aside in a trust for Annabelle.” Kate had known the number would be considerable, but she was still surprised by it. This new inheritance would be in addition to the millions that her grandmother had left her when she’d died. A good portion of that money had been used to create the Children’s Heart Foundation, which provided free cardiac care to children who didn’t have insurance. The foundation took care of all of the kids’ medical expenses, along with housing for the parents while the children were in the hospital. Kate and Harrison, also a pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon, saw patients from all over the country, and the foundation allowed them to dedicate a significant amount of their practice to pro bono work.

Kate leaned forward in her chair. “I want to put some of the money into the trust for the foundation,” she said to Gordon. “Will you set up a meeting with Charles Hammersmith at the trust and our attorney to discuss it?”

“Of course. I’ll get right on it,” Gordon said.

Simon cleared his throat. “Maybe we should take some time to think about how much should go into the foundation before we meet with them.”

Gordon looked from Kate to Simon and back to Kate again, his eyes resting on her for an answer.

“Why don’t you go ahead and set up the meeting, Gordon?” She turned to Simon and gave him a tight smile. “We have time to discuss it later,” she said.

Gordon clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “I’m not sure how to bring this up, except to just tell you.” He took a dramatic pause as they all looked at him expectantly.

“What is it?” Harrison asked.

“I received a phone call from Lily.” Again he paused. “It was the day before she … ahem … anyway, she asked me to keep it confidential, but now that she’s gone … well, she wanted to come in and make changes to her will.”

“What?” both Harrison and Kate said at the same time.

Gordon nodded somberly. “I’m assuming, then, that you knew nothing about this?”

Kate looked at her father. His face had paled.

“No, nothing. Are you sure that’s what she wanted to meet with you about?”

“Quite sure. She specified that she wanted a notary available. I had to mention this to the police, of course. I wanted you to know.”

Harrison stood up, moving closer to where Gordon was sitting. “What exactly did my wife say?”

Color rose to Gordon’s cheeks. “I told you. That she wanted to change her will. The last thing she said before we hung up was, ‘I’d appreciate your keeping this between us.’”

Kate looked at her father again, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression was inscrutable.

“Is there anything else, or can we go?” Harrison asked, his voice tight.

“Just a few more things to sign,” Gordon answered.

After the papers were signed, the meeting ended, and Gordon came around from behind his desk, once again taking Kate’s hands in his.

“If there is anything, anything at all, I can do for you, please call me.” He let go of her hands and pulled her to him in a stiff hug. There had always been such awkwardness to Gordon, from the time they’d been children together.

As a child, he’d had few friends, and that continued throughout his teen years. Kate wasn’t sure that he’d ever had a girlfriend, certainly not when they were young. He had always been odd, eschewing jeans for checkered or printed golf pants along with starched shirts and bow ties when he wasn’t in his school uniform. Although she never felt completely comfortable around him, she also never failed to defend Gordon when others made fun of him, so while she had never thought of Gordon as one of her friends, because of their parents’ long-standing relationship, they’d been thrown together frequently growing up.

Once, at the Bartons’ annual New Year’s Day open house, when Gordon had just turned fourteen and Kate was almost thirteen, he’d cornered her.

The party was well under way when Gordon said, “This is boring. Come on. I’ll show you something interesting.”

“I don’t think so. Maybe another time.” As she edged away, he moved closer to her.

“Come on. You’ll like this. I promise.”

“I’ll like what?”

“My new art project. I’ve been working on it for months. Follow me.” He reached for her hand, but Kate clasped her hands together as he led the way out of the room.

She followed him to a wing of the large house where she’d never been before. After leading her down a long corridor, he stopped in front of a closed door and turned to her. “Mother gave this room to me for Christmas,” he said. “For my art projects.”

He pulled a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. Kate ran her tongue across her upper lip and tasted salty perspiration. The door opened, and Gordon flipped the switch. Soft light filled the room, making the small space look warm and cozy. The walls were painted dark red and covered in large black-and-white photographs of old downtown row houses.

“Did you take these?” Kate asked, moving closer to one of the framed images.

“Yeah, a while ago. But I want to show you what I’m working on now.”

He pushed a button on the wall and then went to stand behind a metal desk where a computer and projector sat. Kate turned to look as a film screen rolled down.

“I’m going to dim the light,” he said, turning on the projector.

Black-and-white images of houses appeared on the screen as the film opened, and then the camera focused on one house alone, slowly moving in closer until she could see the occupants. A thin blond woman sat on a sofa watching TV while two young children sat on the floor playing some kind of game. The camera then withdrew, and another house came into focus. The camera again moved in for a closer look at two women sitting at a kitchen table, while another one stood at the sink washing dishes. The film went on moving from house to house, recording the activities of the occupants. When at last it finished, Gordon switched off the projector and turned the light on.

Kate was stunned.

“Well, how do you like it? I’ve been working on it for months. I’m calling it ‘Contemporary Mundanity,’” Gordon said. He’d been positively beaming.

“Gordon. You’re spying on people!”

“I’m not spying. It’s what anyone would see if they walked by and looked in.”

“No, it’s not. It’s like being a Peeping Tom.”

His face had fallen. “I thought you’d be the one person who would like it.”

“You’re a really good photographer, but I think you should find a different subject next time. Let’s go back.”

They left the room in silence. As crazy as it was, she’d felt sorry for him. He’d seemed genuinely excited about his project, and he wasn’t without talent—but he also seemed to have no idea how violating the project was, and that had bothered her. It still bothered her, but he’d never shown anything but discretion in their business dealings, and he’d never crossed a line with her after that, so she’d kept with the family tradition of having a Barton handle her money. She’d tried to put it out of her mind, and the only person she’d ever told about the incident was Blaire.

Simon put his hand on her back as they all exited Gordon’s office.

“We’re all through, Sylvia,” Kate said.

“Annabelle and Hilda are right down the hall. I’ll take you to them,” she said, and the three of them fell in behind her.

She opened the door, and when Kate stepped inside, her heart stopped. The room was empty. A box of crayons lay on the table, and a half-colored picture had fallen to the floor.

Kate’s heart started pounding, and she felt as if she might faint. “Where is she?” She could barely get the words out. “Where is my daughter?”

“I, I …,” Sylvia stuttered.

Kate felt the room begin to spin, and then she felt her father’s hand on her arm.

“Kate, honey, I’m sure they just went to the bathroom.”

Without a second thought, Kate ran from the room, down the hallway, and pushed open the door to the ladies’ room.

“Annabelle? Hilda?” she yelled, her voice rising hysterically. But there was no answer. A toilet flushed, the stall opened, and a young woman in a suit stepped out, looking confused.

Where were they? Running back out to the hall, she saw Gordon, who was now with the others.

“Kate—,” Gordon began, but before he could finish, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened.

“Mommy, look what Miss Hilda got me.”

Kate spun around and saw Annabelle standing in the elevator, grinning and holding an apple and a juice box.

Kate ran to her, stooped, and picked her up, burying her head in her daughter’s shoulder and shaking with relief.

“Mommy, my juice is spilling,” Annabelle scolded.

Kate brushed the curls back from her forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Daddy, look what I have,” Annabelle said, and Simon took her from Kate’s arms. She squealed with delight as he twirled her around.

Kate turned to Hilda. “You scared me to death. Why on earth did you leave like that?” Her tone was sharp.

Hilda shrank back as if she’d been struck. “I’m sorry, Kate. She was hungry, and I remembered there was a store on the ground level of the building. You know I would never let anything happen to her. I watched her like a hawk.” She looked as if she were about to cry.

Kate was furious. Hilda had been told how serious it was that they all be on guard. Kate’s face was still hot, but she held her tongue. She knew too well that spitting out angry words in a tense situation only upped the ante—calmness was an essential element in the operating room. They were all under enough stress as it was, but she was going to have a long talk with Hilda out of Annabelle’s earshot when they got home.

“Everyone’s nerves are a little fragile. Everything’s fine. Now let’s go,” Simon said, giving Kate a reassuring look.

When they reached the parking lot, Kate whispered to Simon and then pulled her father aside.

“What was that all about? Why would Mother want to change her will?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Maybe it had something to do with the foundation.”

That made no sense to her. “But why would she ask Gordon to keep it a secret?”

She saw a flicker of anger in his eyes. “I told you, Kate, I don’t know.”

“Mommy, I’m tired,” Annabelle called over.

“Coming,” Kate answered, this revelation about her mother’s wishes still weighing heavily on her mind.

They walked over to where Simon, Hilda, and Annabelle stood waiting. Harrison leaned down to give Annabelle a kiss on the cheek. “See you later, alligator.”

Annabelle giggled. “After while, crocodile.”

Kate put a hand on her father’s arm. “I wish you’d stay with us. I hate thinking of you all alone at the condo.”

“I’ll be okay. I need to be among her things.” He was quiet a moment, then spoke again. “I’m going back to the office tomorrow.”

Kate had joined her father’s cardiology practice after she’d finished her residency and fellowship. There was no way she could concentrate on her patients right now.

She was surprised. “So soon? Are you sure?” She wasn’t sure when she’d be ready to go back, but it didn’t feel like it would be any time soon. There was no way she would be separated from Annabelle while the killer was out there.

“What else am I going to do, Kate? I need to keep busy or I’ll go crazy. And my patients need me.”

Kate nodded. “I understand, I guess. But I can’t. I need some time. I’ve let Cathy know to reschedule my patients for the next few weeks.”

“That’s fine. You take all the time you need. Herb and Claire have offered to take your surgeries until you’re ready to come back.”

“Please thank them for me,” she said, giving him a kiss and going to the car.

As Simon pulled out of the parking lot, Kate listened to Hilda’s gentle voice as she read to Annabelle in the back seat. Before they’d gone more than a few miles, passing Oriole Park at Camden Yards, Annabelle had fallen asleep. The three adults were silent the rest of the trip home, lost in their own thoughts. Kate was glad Blaire was coming over this afternoon. She needed to talk to someone. There had to be some kind of connection or clue she was overlooking, something that she was missing.

6

The first thing Blaire saw when she pulled into Kate’s driveway was two men in dark suits and coats standing in front of the door. As soon as she parked and stepped out of the convertible, one of them walked over. “Are you expected, ma’am?”

He looked young. Too young to realize that women her age hated being called ma’am.

“Yes. I’m Kate’s friend, Blaire Barrington.”

He held up a finger and opened a notebook. “Your name is here, but I do need to see some ID, please.”

He obviously didn’t read her books. Though the truth was, despite her fame, few people recognized her face. Occasionally, usually at a restaurant, she’d get a request for an autograph. But for the most part, she lived her life in anonymity. Book signings were a different story. She and Daniel were used to long lines and throngs of people, leaving both of them exhausted and with aching hands by the end. Blaire thrived on it.

She pulled out her driver’s license and handed it over, watching as he snapped a picture with his phone, then motioned for her to go ahead. The door opened before she knocked, and Kate stood in the frame, looking pale and drawn.

“What’s with all the guys in black?” Blaire asked.

Kate started to say something, but then shook her head. “Simon hired them. Just in case …”

After Kate shut the door and engaged the dead bolt, she led Blaire from the hallway into the kitchen. Turning to her, she said, “Selby’s here. She came by earlier to check on me.”

Blaire groaned inwardly. The last person she was in the mood for was Selby. They’d barely acknowledged each other at the funeral luncheon; Selby had sat with her husband, Carter, and not with the women. Now she’d have no choice but to talk to her.

When they walked into the kitchen, Blaire looked around in appreciation. It was fabulous, like something you would expect to see in a grand Tuscan villa of old. Beautiful terra-cotta flooring that looked so authentic she wondered if it had been brought over from Italy tile by tile. A skylighted cathedral ceiling with its rough-hewn wood beams cast a golden glow over the polished wooden counters and floor-to-ceiling cabinets. The room had the same refined and antique feel as the rest of the house, but with the added flavor of a bit of old Europe.

Selby was seated at a table that appeared to be a thick slab of wood carved from a single tree, coarse on the edges and elegantly simple. Annabelle was on her lap, and Selby was reading to her. Selby looked up, her expression turning sour.

“Oh. Hello, Blaire.” Selby scrutinized her with the same disdain she always had, but Blaire didn’t care anymore. She knew she looked good. If she wasn’t quite as thin as she’d been in high school, her time at the gym and careful diet assured she could still rock a pair of jeans. And the hair that had been impossible to tame back then was straight and shiny thanks to the modern miracle known as keratin. Selby’s eyes rested on the round eight-carat diamond ring on Blaire’s left hand.

Blaire coolly returned the favor, grudgingly acknowledging that the years had been good to Selby. If anything, she was more attractive now than she had been in high school, the soft waves around her face streaked with subtle highlights that softened her features. Selby’s jewelry was exquisite—large pearl earrings, a gold bangle, and a sapphire-and-diamond ring on her hand, which Blaire knew was an heirloom. Carter had shown it to Blaire a million years ago—before he’d acquiesced to his parents’ insistence that he find a “suitable” prospect to settle down with.

“Hi, Selby. How are you?” Blaire said, turning away from her and pulling a stuffed purple unicorn out of her tote. She held it out to Annabelle. “Annabelle, I’m your mommy’s old friend, Blaire. I thought you might like to meet Sunny.”

Annabelle flew from Selby’s lap, her arms outstretched, and hugged the stuffed animal to her chest. “Can I keep her?” she asked.

“Of course. I found her especially for you.”

Breaking into a wide grin, the little girl squeezed it tighter. Blaire was pleased to see that it was a hit.

“Where are your manners, Annabelle?” Kate gently scolded. “Say thank you.”

Annabelle regarded Blaire solemnly for a moment, then murmured a shy “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Annabelle. Auntie Blaire loves to give presents.”

Selby looked annoyed. “I didn’t realize you were already on ‘auntie’ terms, Blaire.”

Couldn’t Selby put aside her pettiness for one day? Blaire thought. Not about to engage, she instead turned to Kate. “You don’t mind if she calls me that, do you?”

Kate grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Of course not. We were like sisters—are like sisters,” she corrected herself.

“Remember how we used to pretend that we were sisters when we’d go clubbing in college?” Blaire asked her. “And the fake names. Anastasia and …”

“Cordelia!” Kate finished, laughing.

Selby rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it was hilarious.”

Blaire thought back to those years. Despite their completely different coloring, people believed them. They’d spent so much time together that they had begun to sound alike. They’d picked up the cadence and tempo of each other’s speech and even had similar laughs.

Before she’d met Kate, Blaire had always wondered what it would be like to grow up in a normal family, to have a mother who cooked breakfast for you, made sure you had a healthy lunch for school, was waiting when you got home to help with homework or just ask how your day had gone. Blaire had been only eight when her mother had left, and she had quickly become the center of her father’s universe. By the time she was in fifth grade, she’d learned how to cook better than her mother ever had, and relished making gourmet meals for her father. After a while, Blaire even liked taking care of herself and of him—it made her feel grown-up and in control. And then it all changed when Enid Turner came along.

Enid was a sales rep in her father’s company who suddenly started coming to their house for weekly dinners. Six months later, her father sat Blaire down with a goofy smile on his face and asked, “How would you like to have a new mother?”

It had taken her only a moment to understand. “If you’re talking about Enid, no, thank you.”

He had taken her hand in his. “You know that I’ve grown quite fond of her.”

“I guess.”

He’d gone on, that stupid smile still on his face. “Well, I’ve asked her to marry me.”

Blaire had shot off the sofa and stood in front of him, tears of fury blurring her vision. “You can’t do this!”

“I thought you’d be happy. You’ll have a mother.”

“Happy? Why would I be happy? She’ll never be my mother!” Blaire’s mother, Shaina, had been beautiful and glamorous, with long red hair and sparkling eyes. Sometimes the two of them would play dress-up. Her mother would pretend to be a big star and Blaire her assistant. She’d promised her that one day they would go to Hollywood together, and even though she’d gone on her own, Blaire believed her mother would come back for her once she got settled.