Nine and a half! That jibed with the background sheet. Jill had been born six months after Kara left New York!

Six months!

That meant—!

Rob's hand shook as he reached for the phone.

▼

12:30 P.M.

Kara waited for Rob's knock on the door. He'd called a short while ago asking if they could get together and talk—alone. He had insisted on alone. The doorman had buzzed up to say that he was here.

Alone. Kara wondered at that. And his voice had sounded funny. Thick, and hesitant. As if he'd had too much to drink. She hoped he wasn't drinking so early in the day. But if he was, she guessed it was understandable. After all, he'd killed somebody yesterday.

What a shock that seven A.M. call Tuesday morning. Rob on the phone, very subdued, telling her that Dr. Gates was dead. Killed by a bullet from his gun. He'd given her most of the details, and she'd culled more from the eyewitness accounts in the morning paper.

Her shock hadn't lasted long. It quickly turned to joy, to overwhelming relief. She knew that shouldn't be.

She shouldn't want to dance and sing because her psychiatrist was dead, but the news triggered something deep within her that wanted to pop champagne and shout for joy. She felt like a lifer in Sing Sing who'd just been let free.

The feeling had lasted all day. She'd wanted to see Rob last night but he had been up for thirty-six grueling hours by then, with most of the last twelve spent answering questions and filling out reports. He had wanted only to sleep. Sleep was something that Kara found elusive for most of the night. She'd felt too up, too buoyant. The feeling was still with her. It was unsettling to feel so good about a man's death.

She opened the door as soon as Rob knocked. He'd chosen a good day for a private tete-a-tete. The cook was off and Ellen had taken Jill out to lunch at Rumplemeyer's.

She went to hug him, figuring he'd need a hug after what he'd been through yesterday, but Rob brushed past her without saying a word. A couple of sheets of paper were rolled up in his hand.

"It's good to see you, too, Rob," she said, wondering why he was acting this way.

"We alone?" he said, wandering in a circle around the living room.

"Yes. I told you—"

"Good. Read this."

He handed her the sheets of typed paper. It was all about her.

"What's this?"

"It's about someone who was never married. Who's daughter was born a year earlier than she told me."

Kara felt her mouth dry up. She stared at him.

"Then you know."

His stood flatfooted with his shoulders slumped, his face a stricken mask, his brown eyes wide.

"She's mine?"

"Ours."

Kara took a step toward him and stopped. She'd had this planned for years, how she'd explain all the reasons, good ones, that had compelled her to leave him in the job he loved while she raised their child far from the city she could not bear to live in. How she was going to tell him immediately after the child was born. And how "immediately" had dragged on and on as she put off telling him that he was a father indefinitely. Eventually the delay stretched to an unconscionable length and she became too ashamed to tell him.

And even now, as he stood before her, already aware that Jill was his child, the words threatened to fail her again.

"You've got to understand, Rob. I—"

He began to sob. His chest heaved, tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Kara was shocked speechless. She had never seen Rob cry, had never thought he could. She stepped to his side and touched his arm. She never thought in a million years he would react this way.

"Rob, I'm so sorry I never told you, but—"

"She's mine?" he said. "She's really mine?"

"Yes."

He smiled then. With tears streaming down his cheeks he smiled and began laughing between the sobs. It was an awful sound, and made him look insane.

"All the way over I was praying it was true. Ever since that night when you two had dinner at my apartment she's been popping into my mind. I keep thinking if I ever had a kid I'd want her to be like Jill, I'd want her to be Jill! And when I'd think about the two of us getting back together I'd think of maybe even adopting her. But I don't have to adopt her! I'm already her father!"

Kara too felt like laughing and crying.

"But what about all that bullshit about your husband being killed on the Penn Turnpike? It was so convincing."

"Years of practice. And I wanted to see how you'd react." She paused. "Then you don't hate me?"

"No! I'm madder'n hell, but I don't hate you. You did such a great job with her! I think this is the happiest day of my life!"

He hugged her and Kara began to cry with him.

"I'm so glad you found out. I've been looking for a way to tell you but the time was never right. But I knew I had to tell you before we went back to Pennsylvania."

She felt him stiffen. He pushed her back to arm's length.

"Pennsylvania? You're not taking her back to Pennsylvania! Not now! Not when I've just learned about her!"

"Rob, that!s where her home is, that's where she goes to school—"

"No way! You've kept me out of her life for nine and a half years. No more. That little girl needs a father and I'm going to be it. I don't know how we're going to tell her, and maybe we won't be able to tell her till she's older, but god damn it, even if she doesn't call me 'Daddy,' I'm going to function as her daddy! Am I making myself clear?"

"But Rob—!"

The phone cut her off. She went to answer it.

"Tilsdale residence."

"Is Miss Kara Wade there?" said a woman's voice.

"Speaking."

"One moment please for Mr. Wheatley."

Mr. Wheatley? Who on earth was—?

"Hello? Miss Kara Wade? This is Gordon Wheatley, attorney for the estate of Dr. Lawrence Gates. Can you come over to my office immediately?"

Kara could feel sudden tension coiling within her.

"What for?"

"This has to do with Dr. Gates' estate. It's quite important."

"I want nothing to do with you or his estate."

"I assure you, it's quite to your advantage to—"

"I'm too busy!"

There was a pause, then Mr. Wheatley sighed.

"Then may I come over? It is extremely important."

Kara was taken aback by the request. She didn't know lawyers made house calls.

"How… how long will it take you?"

"Only a few minutes. I'm just a few blocks away on Park Avenue. And I'll only take a moment of your time."

"Okay. I guess—so. But don't be long."

▼

It wasn't long. Kara knew that Rob was about to lay a guilt trip on her—one she richly deserved—but she managed to forestall that by telling him about the mystifying call from Dr. Gates' attorney. It seemed only minutes later that Gordon Wheatley showed up with his secretary.

"This is most irregular," he said as he trooped into the living room. He was a thin, waspish man in his late fifties with wire rimmed glasses and an unruly shock of white hair. "But Dr. Gates' wishes for his estate have been most irregular since the day he made out his first will with us twenty years ago."

"How so?" Kara said.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that, as I'm sure you'll understand. But let me say that I would not have been unhappy if Dr. Gates had taken his legal matters elsewhere long ago."

Rob stepped forward.

"What's this all about, Mr. Wheatley?"

"This." Mr. Wheatley stuck his hand out, palm up, toward his secretary. "Miss Capwell?"

She placed a small manila envelope on his palm. Mr. Wheatley in turn handed the envelope to Kara. The envelope was heavy and it jingled. She didn't like the idea of receiving anything from Gates, especially after he was dead.

"What's this?"

"A list of the assets in his estate and the keys to his home on Twenty-first Street."

"But why?"