Page 52 of Fate and Fortune

He took the photograph out of his inside pocket and set it on the desk facing Walter. Leigh in the hospital bed, the newborn against her chest, and flanking her, thirty years younger, Margaret and the man now sitting across the desk.

Walter looked at it.

The color went out of his face. It was not a figure of speech. Sam watched it happen, watched the blood drop out of a man’s skin in real time, watched his hand come up off the desk blotter and stop halfway as if he’d meant to cover the picture and thought better of it.

“Where did you get that?” Walter said, his voice barely audible.

“We were packing Leigh’s condo. It was in a book.” Sam kept his voice level, his tone completely neutral. “Mr. Powell. We found a hospital bill in the same box. July of 1996. Leigh’s name in the patient line. We also found baby booties, and a hospital bracelet that was clearly newborn size.”

Walter said nothing. His eyes had not left the photograph.

“We know Leigh had a baby,” Sam said, leaning forward. “I have to tell you why I’m asking, and I’m not going to dress it up. I have reason to believe that my dad could be that baby’s biological father. Sadly, Joel Winslow was not the faithful kind to my mother. If my father is the reason Leigh went away in 1996, and if that baby is alive, then she is a Winslow. We want desperately to find her. She’s our family.”

“Get out.”

Walter was on his feet. The tiredness was gone, burned off in an instant, and what stood in its place was a fury so complete and so sudden that Sam actually reflexively stepped in front of Alli.

“You come into my house,” Walter said, and his voice was shaking and hoarse, full of anger. But low enough not to be heard in the home’s main area. “On this day. You have no idea what you are talking about, and it’s none of your business. None of this is any of your business, and I don’t want you spreading lies and gossip about a good woman.”

He stopped. His whole body was rigid with the effort of not shouting.

“You will leave,” he said. “Both of you. Now.”

“Mr. Powell.” Alli tried. “We just wanted⁠—”

He cut through it before she got any further.

“I don’t care what you want. Now.”

There was nothing to do but go. Sam reached for the photograph, and Walter’s hand almost came down on top of it, but then decided against it. Sam slipped the photo back into his pocket before the man could change his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said.

He meant it. He hadn’t wanted to upset anyone today.

They saw themselves out through the beautiful house, past the photographs, past the ham, past Hannah by the window who lifted a hand to them in a small confused wave as they went, not understanding why they were leaving so fast, and Sam made himself smile at her and lift a hand back.

Outside, the cold was a relief. They got in the rental car, but Sam didn’t start the engine yet.

“Well,” Alli said finally, staring straight ahead. “He knows something.”

“He does,” Sam agreed. “But is it that the baby is alive or deceased? I couldn’t tell.”

“I couldn’t either. I was shocked by how quickly he blew up. Whatever the secret is, he isn’t ready to talk about it.”

That was the thing about secrets. More often than not, they were painful…to someone.

That’s what made them so dangerous.

“That was weird, right?” Sam asked Alli as they drove back to the hotel. “It’s not just me who thinks that?”

“It was weird,” she agreed. “One second he was fine, and the next he was furious. I think it’s clear that he didn’t want to talk about that photo.”

“Which, of course, only makes me more curious about it.”

“He must have thought that we were overstepping,” she offered. “It’s personal, and from his reaction, I’m thinking that the baby didn’t make it. Grief often turns to anger. As a reporter, I saw a lot of that.”

“I’m kind of sorry that I even brought it up. I didn’t mean to make today worse for him than it already was.”