Well, that wasn’t exactly true at the moment.
They were in the same room together. On the same side, so to speak. With a huge shared concern.
Their baby.
Even though she couldn’t recall the sex that had created the child, the pregnancy itself created a new sort of intimacy between them. An intimacy that she was certain neither of them was prepared to deal with.
“What are the odds?” Rick asked. He didn’t wait for her to ask what he meant. “That we’d have drugged sex at the very time you’d be ovulating?”
Natalie had already been through this during her frantic pregnancy tests and trips to the doctor. Unfortunately, that little detail only made all of this seem more sinister. Had someone planned that, too? Other than herself, there weren’t a lot of people who knew about the timing of her menstrual cycle. Kitt, maybe.
Perhaps even Macy.
Rick opened his mouth. Closed it. And it seemed as if he changed his mind a dozen times about what he wanted to say. “Will you, uh, keep the baby?”
“Yes.” Natalie answered so quickly that he probably believed she’d given it no thought. She had. Plenty of it. “Call it my personal beliefs, whatever, but this child is mine… Ours,” she corrected. “I’ll definitely keep it.”
Though that ours had not come easily.
It might take her a lifetime to begin to feel comfortable including Rick in any part of her life. Still, that discomfort didn’t extend to the baby. Now that she was beginning to come to terms with the fact that she was indeed pregnant, she had also come to realize that she would love this child no matter how it had been conceived.
Rick nodded, but she couldn’t tell if that was a nod of approval or if he simply didn’t know how else to react. She didn’t have time to ask because Natalie heard footsteps. Macy’s footsteps, no doubt. Caused by a pair of ridiculously high spike heels coming down the staircase.
Natalie set her water glass aside and watched her mother make her way from the foyer and into the room. Macy didn’t seem too steady on her feet, perhaps because of the heels. The footwear complimented her outfit: a short, slim lipstick-red dress that would have been more appropriate for a college student on a date than for a fifty-two-year-old woman. Not that Macy looked her age. Far from it. Of course, at least a half dozen cosmetic surgeries and a pampered lifestyle were responsible for that.
“Rick. Natalie,” Macy greeted. But it wasn’t much of a greeting. As Macy walked closer, Natalie could see that her mother’s eyes were red, and her mascara was smeared as if she’d been crying. The extra proof of that was the wadded-up handkerchief she held in her right hand.
“I know why you’re here,” Macy said. “I know that you’re pregnant.” She slowly walked to the chair. Sighing deeply, she sank down on the cushion, and she made eye contact with Natalie. “Your sister dropped by about an hour ago and let me know what was going on.”
Natalie should have anticipated that her sister would do that. Kitt was looking out for her. And Kitt was also probably trying to prepare her mother for the shocking news. Judging from her mother’s teary eyes and shaken demeanor, Macy was already on her way to coping. Which was good. Because unfortunately, Rick and she were going to have to press Macy for information.
Macy leaned back against the chair, and Natalie could see that her mother’s perfectly manicured fingers were trembling. “Kitt said you believe you were drugged the night of your birthday party?”
“We were,” Rick verified, his tone tense but somehow still respectful. “I had lab tests done so I have proof of that.”
“So it’s true.” Macy shook her head and swiped at another tear. “I’d prayed it wasn’t true.”
Rick reached over and gently put his hand over hers. “Macy, what do you know about the caterer you hired for Natalie’s party?”
Macy reacted with a sharp gasp, and her eyes widened. “Oh, God. You don’t think…” But she didn’t finish it. She ended with another “Oh, God.”
“We don’t know what to think at this point, but we need the name of the caterer,” Rick pressed. “It’s important that we ask him or her some questions.”
“Of course.” Macy nodded. “It’s Antoine Dupree, but I don’t think he did the work himself. I remember him saying he was going to have to subcontract because he was busy with a wedding.”
That was not what Natalie wanted to hear. If the caterer had indeed hired out the work, then it would be another level to dig through to come up with names of possible suspects. It also wouldn’t help if there’d been a huge staff. She couldn’t remember a lot about her own party, but Natalie figured there were at least a half-dozen people working.
Any one of them could have been responsible.
“We know the caterer or someone on his staff would have had the opportunity to put a drug into the food or drinks,” Rick continued. “But what we don’t know is why someone would do this. There have been no blackmail attempts. And judging from the surveillance tapes, no one entered Natalie’s bedroom to take incriminating photos of us. That leaves us with no motive for this crime.”
“Did the surveillance tapes show you leaving Natalie’s bedroom?” Macy asked. “Or the better question would be—did it show anyone taking you out of there?”
Rick shook his head. “Someone or something jammed the surveillance feed.”
“Kitt said it wouldn’t be that hard to do,” Natalie added. “But that means the person would have known in advance about the security system. In other words, they would have had to bring the jamming equipment with them. Coupled with the drugging, that makes it premeditated.”
When Macy didn’t respond, Natalie asked what both Rick and she needed to know. “Can you think of any reason why the caterer or someone on his staff would want to do this to us?”
“I can think of a reason. A bad reason.” Her voice broke, and Macy stood slowly and made her way to the window. “God help me. I should have told you sooner.”
Natalie froze. She’d wanted to hear her mother’s denial. Any denial. However, this didn’t sound like the start of something like that.
“I’m not really sure if this is all connected. But maybe it is…” Macy turned and faced them. “Your father and I and Rick’s parents were all friends at university together, and we became involved in eugenics research. Specifically, we became involved with the Cyrene Project.”
Natalie repeated those last two words under her breath. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard them. No. As a child, she’d heard her parents say them.
In whispers, sometimes.
Other times, the words had been parts of rather loud arguments.
In fact, Natalie had heard her father mention the Cyrene Project the day he walked out and left his family when she was barely six years old. His leaving had preceded a very bitter divorce. It’d continued to be bitter until her father’s accidental death when she was seventeen.
“The
