Читать книгу Flash Point - Metsy Hingle - Страница 13

“Please have a seat, Ms. Santos,” the receptionist at the law firm of Callaghan and Associates told Kelly as she was ushered into an office to wait for Peter Callaghan late Monday morning. “Can I offer you anything to drink?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Very well. Mr. Callaghan will be with you shortly,” the young woman said, and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Still unsettled by her encounter with Jack the previous day and the disturbing vision that had led to it, Kelly looked at her watch. She felt as though she’d been in New Orleans for weeks instead of just a few days. Eager to put those days behind her as quickly as possible so she could return to New York, she stared at her watch. And she waited. When several minutes ticked by and Peter Callaghan still hadn’t made an appearance, she tapped her foot, growing more restless by the second.

Patience was not one of her virtues, she admitted. The fact that she was being forced to wait in a lawyer’s office only added to her discomfort. One of those psychological hang-ups from her childhood, she guessed. All she knew was that Peter Callaghan’s office made her think about those countless offices she’d been in and out of as a kid. Social workers, child psychologists and various state agencies—all insisting on regular evaluations of her. Granted, Peter Callaghan’s office was a far cry from the cramped, dreary bureaucratic offices she’d been sent to as a child. But there was still something about the scent of all those law books, about seeing them lined up on the shelves along with the legal documents hanging on the walls, that triggered her old feelings of being trapped and helpless. Just as she’d felt trapped and helpless all those years ago as she’d been shuffled through the state and legal systems.

But you’re not a child anymore. They no longer have any power over you.

Kelly drew in a steadying breath, released it. She wasn’t a child anymore. Nor was she trapped in the system, she reminded herself, echoing the voice in her head. She was the one in control of her life now—not some judge who saw only another unwanted child dependent upon the juvenile system. She didn’t have to shift in and out of a string of foster homes and St. Ann’s any longer. She didn’t have to subject herself to any court-appointed psychologist. Nor did she have to allow anyone to poke around in her mind, asking her a bunch of stupid questions and then diagnosing her as a troubled girl who made up stories about visions to get attention.

What am I doing? Why am I even thinking about all of this stuff now?

Because she was back in New Orleans.

Coming back had triggered all those unpleasant memories that she’d left the city in order to escape. And just as soon as she finished her meeting with Peter Callaghan and collected the items that Sister Grace had left her, she’d escape again, she promised herself. She’d take the first flight back to New York and forget all about the past and the last few awful days.

Too restless to sit, Kelly stood and began to wander about the room. It really was a beautiful room, she realized, noting the expensive drapes, the plush rug with an inlaid pattern, the artwork. She paused to admire a group of Calder prints that adorned one wall and the marble sculpture that sat on a stand in the corner. Moving over to the credenza she found herself studying the array of framed photographs. There was one of Peter Callaghan with a beautiful brunette woman taken in a garden lush with spring blooms. Another shot featured the elder Mr. Callaghan with a smiling Peter dressed in his graduation cap and gown, holding up his law school diploma. She moved to the next photograph, which depicted the entire Callaghan family—Mr. and Mrs. Callaghan, Peter, his sister, Meredith, and Jack.

Given how young Meredith looked in the picture, Kelly suspected it had been taken more than a decade ago, probably back when she and Meredith were still in high school together. There was something warm and moving about the picture of them as a family unit, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to share such a family bond—to look at another person and see a resemblance of yourself in them, of them in you. To know that you belonged.

After hesitating a moment, she picked up the photograph for a closer look. There wasn’t an ugly one in the bunch. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, they had toothpaste perfect white smiles and elegant bone structure. Every one of them was gorgeous. But Jack, she mused as she traced her fingertip along his face, Jack seemed to have been blessed with an extra dollop of everything. An extra inch or so in height over his father’s and brother’s six-foot frames. His hair was a darker shade of blond, his eyes a deeper blue. Even his smile was a fraction wider, a touch brighter.

“Ms. Santos, please forgive me for keeping you waiting,” Peter Callaghan said as he hurried into the room. “I’m afraid I got tied up in court,” he told her as he dumped his briefcase next to his desk and strode over to her with his hand extended. “I’m Peter Callaghan.”

Kelly quickly returned the photograph to the credenza and shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Callaghan.”

Surprise flickered in his blue eyes. He arched his brow a fraction. “We’ve met before?”

“A long time ago and only briefly. I’m not surprised that you don’t remember,” she said, and already wished she had never mentioned it.

“Well, I am. I can’t imagine how I’d forget someone as lovely as you. Tell me, was I temporarily blind?”

“No,” she said with a chuckle. Another charmer. Just like his brother, she thought, and she couldn’t help wondering if it was part of the Callaghan’s genetic makeup, since even Meredith, whom she’d always considered a bit self-centered, could be charming when she chose to be. “It was more than ten years ago and I wasn’t all that memorable.”

“Now, that I don’t believe.”

“Trust me, it’s true.” While her looks had changed little over the years, her fashion sense had. And if she was at all memorable now it was due in large measure to her learning how to select the right clothes and making sure she wore the clothes instead of vice versa. That alone had been one of the nicer perks about the business of selling beauty, she thought.

“Now you’ve got me curious. Where was it that we met?”

“At your sister Meredith’s high school graduation. I was the scrawny girl with stringy blond hair who gave the valedictory address. Afterward, you were kind enough to compliment me on my speech and wished me good luck. As I said, I wasn’t particularly memorable.”

“But you were,” Peter insisted. “And I do remember you now, and the speech you gave. About ending one journey and beginning another, and about family and heritage. I especially remember you saying that genetics determined a person’s looks and even the number of brain cells, but it didn’t determine who a person was or who they would become. You challenged your classmates to become the person they wanted to be, to forge the future they wanted for themselves.”

Kelly flushed, both embarrassed and pleased that he could recall the heart of her speech. “You have a very good memory, Mr. Callaghan.”

“Please, it’s Peter,” he said with a smile. “And in order for me to be a good attorney, I have to have a good memory. But that’s not why I remembered your speech. I remembered it because I thought your remarks were quite profound for someone so young.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He nodded. “I assume from the fact that you’re working in New York that you followed your own advice. I understand from your conversation with my assistant that you’re a photographer now.”

“That’s right. Mostly magazine layouts, some print work and occasionally some portraits. I have to travel a lot and only returned from Europe a couple of days ago. It’s the reason you weren’t able to reach me,” she said, still regretting that she hadn’t been there for Sister Grace.

“It sounds like an exciting job.”

“I enjoy it and it pays the bills.” And it also kept her too busy to dwell on the fact that she had little in the way of a personal life. But then, after the disastrous mistake she’d made with Garrett, she hadn’t exactly opened herself to the possibility of a new relationship because she hadn’t trusted her judgment.

“I see you’ve been checking out my family’s rogues’ gallery.”

“A professional drawback,” she said, shoving thoughts about Garrett aside. “I find it hard to pass a photo without checking it out. This one of your family is very nice.”

“Thanks. It’s one of my favorites. And judging by how young we all look here, we’re long past due for another family portrait.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said, looking from him to the photograph and back again. “It doesn’t look to me like you or Jack have changed all that much.”

“You’ve seen my brother recently?”

“Yesterday,” she told him, then wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Deciding she should explain, she continued, “I was a witness in a police matter and he was the detective assigned to the case.”

“Jack’s a homicide detective,” Peter pointed out.

“Yes, I know. I saw a man get shot.”

Peter winced. “Talk about an unpleasant welcome home. I’m sorry, Kelly.”

He didn’t know the half of it, she thought. Eager to change the subject, she said, “This really is a nice picture. If you do decide to take another family portrait, I’d recommend using the same photographer.”

“All right, I can take a hint. I won’t pry.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, grateful that he hadn’t pressed her.

“Unfortunately, the photographer who took that relocated to L.A. about five years ago. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in the job?”

“I appreciate the offer, but besides not having my equipment, I don’t expect to be here very long. You shouldn’t have problems finding someone else though. Even an amateur photographer would have an easy time of it, since you and your family are so photogenic.”

Peter groaned. “Whatever you do, don’t let Meredith hear you say that,” he said, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “A few years ago, she was on this kick to become a model and nearly drove all of us crazy.”

Kelly saw no point in informing him that she already knew about his sister’s modeling aspirations since Meredith had paid her a visit in New York, positive that Kelly had some inside track. Meredith had been a female steamroller, she recalled. And despite the fact that the two of them had been acquaintances and not friends, she had made a few phone calls on Meredith’s behalf. But after Meredith had landed a few print ads, she’d disappeared almost as quickly as she’d appeared. “Is she still modeling?”

“Not at the moment. She’s all wrapped up in opening a boutique in the French Quarter. But with Meredith, one can never be sure. She’s my sister and I love her, but the woman has had nearly as many careers as I’ve had cases.”

“Now, that I don’t believe,” Kelly informed him.

“All right. Maybe I’m exaggerating. But my sister has a short attention span. I’ll let her know you’re in town though, because I’m sure she’ll want to see you. Where are you staying?”

“The Regent Hotel.” But Kelly didn’t really expect Meredith to come by to see her. Why should she? The two of them may have attended the same school, but that was the only thing they’d had in common. Meredith’s family had been able to afford the private school tuition. Whereas, she had been there by means of a scholarship. But even without the monetary differences, her living situation and her ability to see things that others couldn’t had set her apart from Meredith and the rest of her classmates. She remembered all too well that on those few occasions when she’d let something slip, the other girls had been freaked out.

“I’ll make myself a note to give Meredith a call and tell her you’re here.”

“Actually, Peter, it’s probably not worth mentioning. I mean, I don’t expect to be here long. In fact, once we’re finished our business, I’ll be heading back to New York.”

“And if I let you leave without telling Meredith you’re in town, she’ll kill me,” he said as he put down his pen and stuck a sticky note to his phone. “Besides, if I know my sister, she’ll convince you to extend your visit for a day or two.”

She wouldn’t count on it, Kelly thought silently.

“But be forewarned. Meredith’s like a puppy with a bone where this boutique of hers is concerned. She’ll probably drive you nuts talking about it. I know I’ve learned more than I ever wanted to know about women’s fashions and accessories and marketing.”

“You don’t approve of her opening a boutique?” Kelly asked.

“I’m all for it—if that’s what Meredith wants and it makes her happy. It would be nice to have her stick around this time,” he said. “But then, that’s enough about my sister. I’m sure you want to get this business with Sister Grace’s will out of the way. So if you’ll have a seat, I’ll get a copy and go over the particulars with you.”

As surreal as it seemed to be chatting with Peter Callaghan like he was an old friend, the reminder of why she was in his office in the first place was sobering. Kelly sat down in the chair across from his desk. “I was surprised to learn that Sister Grace even had a will. I just assumed whatever she had would go to her order or to the church.”

“Most of it did. But Sister Grace came to my father a few years ago and asked him to draw up a will with some specific bequests. As you probably know, my parents were very fond of her,” Peter began. “And although I didn’t know her as well as they did, l did like her. I’m sure she’ll be missed by a great many people.”

“Yes, she will,” Kelly murmured. And she already missed the nun more than she’d ever dreamed she would miss anyone.

“The terms of her will are pretty straightforward. Sister Grace had very little in the way of assets. She left directions that any personal savings she had at the time of her death be given to the Catholic church and earmarked for use in the education of children.”

Which is what she would have expected of Sister Grace, since the nun had put a great deal of stock in the importance of education. She’d called it the great equalizer.

“With the exception of a few items that she left to other nuns in her order, Sister Grace left the remainder of her personal possessions to you. I’m afraid their value is more of a sentimental nature than a monetary one.”

“I understand.”

Peter opened the file folder on his desk and pulled out an official-looking document. “I’ll dispense with reading the entire will and just skip to the part that pertains to your bequests, if that’s all right with you.”

“That’s fine,” she told him.

“To my former student and beloved friend, Kelly Santos, I leave my rosary given to me by my own mother when I took my vows. I also leave to her my watercolor titled Serenity, which has brought me much pleasure…”

As though in a daze, Kelly sat in silence while Peter read from the will. The pain and emptiness she’d felt upon learning of Sister Grace’s death washed over her anew. Only years of learning to discipline her emotions stopped her from blubbering like a baby in front of the attorney.

“…Finally, I leave to Kelly Santos all my correspondence and journals to do with as she wishes. It is my hope that she will remember me with fondness when she reads them and that through my words she will someday discover the bonds of family that she so richly deserves.” Peter put down the document and looked across the desk at her. “You were obviously very special to her.”

“She was very special to me, too,” Kelly told him.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Kelly.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Kelly nodded.

“We have the items she mentioned here and can turn them over to you now if you wish. Or if you’d prefer, I can arrange to have everything shipped to you in New York.”

Kelly swallowed past the lump of emotion in her throat. “I’d like to have the rosary now. And if it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate it if you would just ship the rest of the items to me in New York. I’ll reimburse you for any shipping charges involved.”

“I’ll see to it.” He buzzed his assistant, gave her instructions about the shipping and had the rosary brought to his office. “May I?” he asked, indicating the plain satin pouch that contained the rosary.

“Of course.”

Peter opened the pouch and emptied the prayer beads into his palm. The clear crystal beads and pewter crucifix glimmered beneath the light of the desk lamp. “Very pretty.”

Kelly thought of all the times she’d seen Sister Grace fingering the beads of that rosary. And when Peter started to return it to the pouch, she said, “Please, I’d like to see it.”

Peter dropped the rosary into her open palm.

Kelly closed her fingers around the beads. And without warning, the world seemed to spin out from beneath her. Suddenly she was no longer sitting in Peter’s law office. Instead, she was in an empty church—no, a chapel—she realized as she looked around at her surroundings.

And then she saw Sister Grace. Kelly’s heart stopped as she realized the rosary had connected her to the nun. And there was Sister Grace, kneeling in the pew, her head bowed and her rosary beads in her hands.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst all women, and blessed art—” Sister Grace stopped mid-prayer and started to turn around.

“No! Don’t turn around, Sister,” a woman’s voice said from behind her.

A flicker of anger raced through her blood. “What are you doing here?” the nun demanded.

“This is a church, Sister. I thought everyone was welcome.”

“This is a chapel and the evening services are over,” the nun countered. “What do you want?”

“Maybe I want to pray. Since God has seen fit to throw this nasty little surprise at me and mess up my life, I thought maybe if I prayed real hard, He’d make the problem go away. What do you think, Sister? Will God listen to my prayers?”

“God hears all of our prayers.”

“Ah, but the question is does He answer them?”

“He answers them. But the answer isn’t necessarily the one we want,” Sister Grace replied.

“I guess that means you haven’t changed your mind about giving me her name.”

“I’ve told you, your information is wrong. I can’t help you.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. And since I can’t risk having you warn her about me, I’m afraid I have no choice but to make sure that you keep quiet.”

And before Sister Grace could move, the woman plunged a needle into her neck.

“Kelly? Kelly, are you all right?”

Kelly dropped the rosary. She felt the world spinning beneath her once more. And then someone was gripping her by the shoulders, calling her name. She blinked, tried to regain her balance. Finally when she was able to focus, she saw Peter standing in front of her, a worried expression on his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she told him. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he informed her. He picked up the rosary, returned it to the pouch and handed it to her. “You want to tell me what happened just now?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, unsure of what she had said, what she had done.

“One minute you were holding that rosary and the next minute you seemed to…to zone out.

“I can’t explain it. And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” After stuffing the pouch with the rosary into her bag she stood, eager to leave. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Kelly, are you sure you’re all right? You’re as white as a ghost.”

“I’m okay. Really,” she assured him. “Thank you for everything, Peter,” she said, and after shaking his hand, she raced out of the office.

Once she stepped outside into the cool November air, Kelly attempted to hail a taxi while she digested what she had just learned.

Sister Grace hadn’t died of a heart attack. Someone had murdered her.

Anger churned in Kelly’s stomach as she recalled the nun’s last moments and her fear. Somehow, some way, she had to find out who was responsible. She owed Sister Grace that much.