went off. Cameras started rolling. There was a general jostling of bodies as reporters surged closer, jockeying for position, microphones swaying over their heads. Megan stepped to the microphone mounted on the railing and lifted both arms in a gesture of welcome.
“Thank you for coming.” Immediately she was bombarded with questions.
“Mrs. Maitland, have the baby’s parents been identified?”
“Who has been charged with the murder at the clinic?”
Chelsea Markum, cool and professionally commanding with her vibrant auburn hair and beauty-queen looks, elbowed her way to the front and demanded, “Is Jake Maitland involved with some terrorist organization? And who is this mystery woman he’s brought into your midst? Does it have anything to do with the murder?”
Jake muttered something best unheard and edged away from the lights. Megan laughed. “My goodness, Chelsea, what an active imagination you have.” She ignored Chelsea’s pout and waved down the remainder of the questions. “I’m here to announce that the parents of the infant child left on this very doorstep at our last meeting have, indeed, come forward.”
“Who’s the father?” someone called.
“The father is a distant relative who desires to remain nameless,” Megan went on calmly. “He and the child’s mother are working to put their lives back together and provide a loving home for their son. Surely you realize that this was an act of desperation on the mother’s part. Now that the father is aware of the child’s existence, the couple are working through their differences. Please, I beg you, allow them the privacy necessary to accomplish this.”
“Are you saying that none of your sons fathered this mystery child?” someone asked.
Megan seemed to pause, then said in a strong, clear voice, “None of the fine young men you see standing here with me today had anything to do with that child’s conception. Now, that’s all I’m going to say.”
“But what about the murder?” Chelsea Markum demanded, having recovered from her set down. “Can Maitland Maternity survive this new crisis?”
Beth stiffened, but Megan shook her head. “The tragedy that occurred here last night has nothing whatsoever to do with Maitland Maternity.”
“Isn’t it true that the dead woman caused the breakup of your daughter Beth’s engagement?”
Pointing to another reporter instead of acknowledging Chelsea Markum, Megan tried to ignore the question, but Beth knew it was hopeless. She stepped next to her mother and leaned toward the microphone.
“No, that isn’t true,” she said evenly.
“But the police suspect you, don’t they?”
“You’ll have to ask them that,” Beth said dismissively.
“In fact,” Megan said, once more taking control, “these questions really ought to be directed at the police. I believe the detectives working this case are one Ty Redstone and Paul Jester. Why don’t you ask them these things?”
Beth chuckled inwardly. Poor Redstone and Jester! Her mother had effectively sicced the press on them. She wondered if Ty Redstone would blame her for it, then purposefully pushed thoughts of the attractive detective from her mind. She had more important matters to address—and the perfect forum in which to do it. Once she’d made a public statement, her mother could not gainsay her, and Beth was utterly convinced that this was for the best.
“I have something else to say,” she announced over the buzz of questions flying at them. She shot her mother an apologetic glance. She hated to do this, but she knew that she must. The reporters grew surprisingly quiet. She could see pens poised over handheld notebooks, microphones straining forward to catch her every word. She didn’t make them wait. “For the record, I have no idea who killed Brianne Dumont or why. It certainly was not me. However, my family and I are grieved by this tragedy and want to see the person responsible brought to justice. Given the circumstances, I can understand that some might link me with the crime even though I had no part in it, and that being the case, I am taking a leave of absence from my position as head of Maitland Maternity day-care center until this mystery is solved and the guilty party is found.”
The murmurings this time came from behind her, from her family, but she’d made the decision, and she knew it was right. She knew what she had to do. Cooperating with the authorities was fine, as far as it went; trusting them to exonerate her was something else again. She was not going to sit idly by waiting for someone to rescue her. Her chin went up in a gesture so reminiscent of her mother that her siblings smiled.
Megan took firm control of the situation once more and brought the press conference to a swift conclusion. The final questions came, as usual, from Chelsea Markum, who shouted at Beth and Jake as the family returned to the relative privacy of the clinic. It was only as she prepared to break the news of her leave of absence to her staff that Beth realized life as she knew it had drastically changed, perhaps forever.
CHAPTER TWO
BETH QUICKLY DISCOVERED that the intention of proving her innocence and actually doing it were two different things. Where did one begin? After much thought—and she’d had lots of time for that these past two days—she was convinced that she was being framed for Brianne’s murder. The question was, why? Try as she might, she couldn’t imagine what anyone could have to gain from framing her, and yet she could find no other explanation. One other thing had become clear to her: Brandon Dumont was her strongest suspect.
She was saddened and angered by this. She had once had strong feelings for Brandon. At least, she had tried to make herself believe that she could have strong feelings for him. That belief had waned even before she’d discovered that he was sleeping with Brianne, and had been put to death by Brandon’s insinuation that his betrayal was somehow her—Beth’s—fault.
She had dismissed her anger, telling herself that his response smacked of jealousy and was beneath her, that it was best to put the whole relationship behind her. She had dismissed Brandon’s avowal that she would regret breaking their engagement and tried to lessen his anger by agreeing to tell everyone that he had instigated the breakup himself. Given the tales he was telling about her supposed harassment of Brianne, she had to wonder if that was part of the setup. Why else would he lie to the police? Or had Brianne, for some absurd reason, convinced him that the harassment was taking place?
She was brooding about it all in the mansion nursery, watching a sleeping Chase from the comfort of a well-placed rocking chair, when Megan entered and brushed a kiss on the top of her head before tiptoeing to the crib to worship little Chase with her eyes. Knowing her mother would want to talk, Beth got up and moved toward the door. Megan turned on the baby monitor and followed.
“I’m so glad you kept him at home with you today,” she said softly when the nursery door was closed behind them. “The press was all over the place.”
Beth sighed. “Truthfully, it was selfishness on my part. I needed something to do, and he’s such a sweet baby.”
“Won’t you come back to the day-care center?” Megan asked quickly, but Beth shook her head.
“I can’t, Mom, not now. It’s just not fair to the employees and patients, not to mention the children.”
“If this is about the twenty-fifth-anniversary celebration,” Megan argued, “we’re
