“You killed another child.”
“No, Rachel.”
“Someone was murdered that night.”
“That was part of the delay. I waited. I gave that child a spectacular life.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It’s not important.”
“It is to me.”
“No, Rachel, all that concerns you is the little boy whom I rescued that night. My son.”
“You set David up for the murder.”
“Not really. When that old woman testified at the trial about seeing him with the baseball bat, I confess that I was shocked. Do you know what I thought?”
“Tell me.”
“That he started to believe he had done it, so he buried the bat himself. Later I learned there was some grudge against his father. But no, I didn’t intend to send David to prison for life. None of this was his fault. He had done his best in raising my son. I didn’t want to hurt him more than necessary.”
“Why such extreme measures?”
“What else could I do, Rachel? I couldn’t admit I had made my clinic use my sample.” He held up his hand. “And before you get all high and mighty, let’s remember who started all this. You and your sister. Your lies.”
There was, Rachel knew, some truth to that. “So who knows?”
“Pixie, of course. Stephano. That’s about it. I brought my son here when I made the switch. I confess I was in a panic. I worried I had made a terrible mistake. Pixie ran a paternity test. It came back that the boy was mine. We stayed at the Payne estate for almost six months. I never left the property. The boy was upset at first. He cried a lot. He didn’t sleep. He missed his mother and…and David. But kids adapt. We named him Theo. We came up with the cover story about the Italian actress. Eventually I took him overseas. I put him in the most exclusive boarding school in Switzerland. And I waited for that damn birthmark to fade away. The doctor said it would. But it didn’t. It stayed there, stubbornly. And yes, no one was looking for Matthew. He was dead, not missing. But the resemblance between him now and the boy taken…”
“Hayden?”
“What?”
“We can still make this work.”
“How?”
“Give Matthew back.”
“Just like that?”
“No one has to know where he was or who had him.”
“Oh, come on. Of course they will. And you can’t prove any of this, Rachel. You know that. You’ll never get your hands on the boy, and if you do, do you really think you’ll be able to compel a Payne to take a DNA test? Besides, the DNA test will show what? That I’m the father and Cheryl is the mother. I’ll say Cheryl and I had an affair.”
It was then that David stepped out from behind the shrub. The two men just stared at one another.
Then David said, “Where’s my son?”
Chapter
38
Where’s my son?” I say.
I stare at this man who destroyed my life. My whole body is quaking.
Rachel says, “David.”
“Call the police, Rachel.”
“She can’t,” Hayden says. “I have her phone. It wouldn’t matter anyway. The police wouldn’t be allowed on this property without a warrant.” He steps toward me. “But David, I think we can make this work.”
I glance at Rachel, then back at him. “Where is Matthew?”
“There is no Matthew. You killed him. If you mean Theo—”
I don’t need to hear this. I start toward the house. I’ll tear it apart if I have to. I don’t care anymore. I’m going to see my son again.
They both follow me. “Don’t you want to hear my proposal?” Hayden asks.
I make a fist. He’s too far away for me to hit him with it. “No.”
“He’s not your son. I’m sure you know that by now. But you were wronged. I always felt bad about that—about you taking the fall, about you ending up in prison. So let me help. Listen to me, David. The Paynes have means. We can get you out of the country, set you up with a new identity—”
“You’re a lunatic.”
“No, listen to me.”
And that’s it. We are about twenty yards from the front door now. I turn and rush him and grab him by the throat with one hand.
I hear Rachel again say, “David.”
But I don’t care. I am about to throw Hayden Payne to the ground when I hear another voice, a man’s, calmly say, “Okay, that’s enough.”
The man is heavyset with dark hair. He wears a black suit.
He also has a gun in his hand.
“Let him go, David,” the man says.
The man speaks casually, softly even, but there is something in the tone that makes you pull up and listen closely. His eyes are cold and dead in a way I’ve seen too often in prison.
And right there and then, I have an epiphany.
I don’t know if that’s the right word, but it’s close enough. It all happens in less than a second. I know men like him. I know the situation. I know that he is armed and on a private residence. I know that he is here to kill me. I know in the end I have to protect Rachel and Matthew and that for me, there are no consequences.
With all that in mind, I move very fast.
I still have my hand around Hayden’s throat. I pull him in front of me, using him for the briefest of moments as a shield.
With my free hand, I pull out my gun.
This isn’t the first time I’ve handled a gun. My father was a police officer. He was big on gun safety. He and Uncle Philip used to take Adam and me to the range with them in Everett on Saturday afternoons. I became a pretty good shot, not so much with stationary targets, but the simulation exercises where cardboard cutouts pop up at random times. Sometimes it would be a bad guy. Sometimes it would be an innocent civilian. I wasn’t the best at differentiating the two, but I remember what my father taught me.
No head shots. No aiming for the legs or trying to wound. Aim for the center mass of the torso and leave yourself the most room for error.
The man quickly sees what I am doing.
He raises his weapon. But my boldness, the suddenness of my actions, plus using Hayden Payne as a temporary shield, gives me the advantage.
I fire three times.
And the man goes down.
Hayden screams and runs toward the front door. I turn to follow him, but then I spot another man pulling out a gun.
No hesitation.
I fire three more times.
This guy goes down too.
I don’t know whether the two men are dead or injured. I don’t care. Hayden is inside the door.
I run toward the first fallen man. His eyes are closed, but I think he’s still breathing. I don’t have time to check. I bend down and pry the gun from his hand. Then I turn back toward Rachel.
“Come on!” I shout.
Rachel does. We hurry toward the front door. I worry that it may be locked, but it’s not. Who needs to lock a front door when you live in a place like this? We enter the foyer. I close the door behind me and hand her one of the guns.
“David?”
“For protection. In case anyone tries to get in.”
“Where are you going?”
But she knows. I’m already heading up the stairs where I hear running footsteps. I don’t know how many armed men they have. I have already shot two men. I don’t care how many more I’ll need to shoot. I just worry about the bullet count.