Kiss an Angel(114)

“I can’t believe she hitchhiked,” Max said. “She could have been murdered.”

That terrifying possibility had kept Alex dry-mouthed with fear for three days until Jack had come rushing out of the red wagon one afternoon with the news that he’d just spoken with Daisy on the telephone. She had called to make certain the menagerie animals were all right. When Jack pressed her to tell him where she was, she’d hung up on him. She hadn’t asked about Alex.

He’d cursed the circumstances that had kept him from being in the red wagon when she called. Then he’d remembered the half dozen times he’d answered the telephone only to hear a click at the other end. It must have been her. She’d been waiting for someone else to answer so she didn’t have to talk to him.

Max had begun to pace. “I can’t understand why the police aren’t taking this more seriously.”

“Because she disappeared voluntarily.”

“But anything could have happened to her since then. She’s totally incapable of taking care of herself.”

“That’s not true. Daisy’s smart, and she’s not afraid of hard work.”

Max dismissed his comments. Despite the incident he’d witnessed with Sinjun, he still saw his daughter as incompetent and frivolous. “I have friends in the FBI, and it’s high time I contacted a few of them.”

“Hundreds of witnesses saw what happened in the ring that night. The police believe she had ample reason for disappearing.”

“That was an accident, and for all her faults, Daisy isn’t vindictive. She’d never hold it against you. No, Alex. There has to be foul play involved, and I’m not letting you talk me out of this any longer. I’m calling the FBI today.”

Alex had never told Max the entire truth, and now he understood why he’d felt compelled to come here today. By holding back the whole story, he was leaving out information that might give either Max or Amelia some additional idea about where Daisy could have gone. He hated the idea of revealing something so ugly about himself, but his pride wasn’t nearly as important as Daisy’s safety and the well-being of his child.

As he faced the older man, he saw how Max had aged in the past month. Some of the starch had left his diplomat’s spine. His movements seemed slower, his voice a bit less firm. In his own way, narrow and judgmental as Alex believed it to be, Max did love Daisy, and he was suffering.

Alex gazed for a moment at the silver samovar he’d located for Max in a Paris gallery. It had been designed by Peter Carl Fabergé for Czar Alexander III and was imprinted with the two-headed Russian imperial eagle. The dealer had told Alex it was made in 1886, but the detail in the work made Alex place it closer to 1890.

Contemplating the genius of Fabergé was easier than thinking about what he needed to tell Max. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks, then drew them out. He cleared his throat. “Daisy had more to be upset about than what I did to her with the whip.”

The older man grew instantly alert. “Oh?”

“She’s pregnant.”

“I told you so,” Amelia said from the couch.

Max and Amelia shared a conspiratorial look that made Alex instantly alert. Max regarded her fondly. “You did tell me, didn’t you, my dear.”

“And Alex behaved badly when he heard the news.”

Amelia was annoying, but she wasn’t stupid, and the old pain struck, strong and sharp. “I behaved badly,” he agreed.

Amelia regarded her husband smugly. “I told you that would happen, too.”

Alex swallowed hard before he forced out the ugly words. “I ordered her to have an abortion.”

Max’s lips pinched. “You didn’t.”

“You can’t say anything to me I haven’t already said to myself.”

“Do you still feel that way, about it?”

“Of course, he doesn’t,” Amelia said. “You only have to look at him to see that. Guilt’s hanging over him like a bad hairdo.” She rose from the couch. “I’m late for my facial. You two will have to sort this out for yourselves. Congratulations, Max.”

Alex noted both Amelia’s final words and the telling smile she gave Max. He stared at her as she left the room and knew that something important had passed between them.

“Is Amelia right?” Max demanded. “Have you changed your mind?”

“I didn’t mean it when I said it. She’d scared the hell out of me, and I was running on adrenaline.” He studied Max. “Amelia wasn’t surprised to hear about Daisy’s pregnancy, yet she knew she was taking birth control pills. Why is that?”

Max walked over to a walnut cabinet where he gazed through the glass doors at his porcelain collection. “We were both hoping, that’s all.”

“You’re lying, damn it! Daisy told me Amelia filled the prescription for her. Tell me the truth.”

“It was—we did what we thought was best.”

A great stillness fell over Alex. He thought of the small compartmentalized compacts that held Daisy’s pills. As if he were seeing them for the first time, he remembered that the pills had been unprotected. In an age when so many medications were in blister packs, these pills hadn’t been covered by anything more than the lid of the compact.

The ever-present constriction in his chest tightened. Once again he had failed to trust his wife, and once again he’d been wrong. “You planned this, didn’t you; just like you planned everything else. Somehow you substituted pills.”