man who valued his privacy.
“I believe we can assist you, Mr. Browning,” Futrelle said. “What’s the young lady’s name?”
“Pamela,” Conrad said.
Futrelle raised his eyebrows again. He was surprised, and though he tried to control the reaction, he didn’t quite succeed.
“Pamela Tarleton,” Conrad went on.
There was a flash of genuine fear in Futrelle’seyes, and Conrad knew he had come to the right place.
Anger replaced the fear as Futrelle snapped, “This isn’t amusing, Mr. Browning. I know very well that Miss Tarleton was your fiancée at one time. I also know that she’s dead. If she ever was a patient here, and I’m not saying she was, I’d be honor bound not to reveal anything about her stay with us.”
“You don’t have to reveal anything, Doctor,” Conrad said in a tone as sharp as Futrelle’s. He played the rest of his cards. “I already know she came here to give birth, and that’s exactly what she did. She bore two children, twins. What I want to know is what happened to those children.”
Futrelle reached for a bell push on the desk. “This is none of your business, sir—”
In a motion almost too swift for the eye to follow, Conrad was on his feet. His hand shot out and closed around Futrelle’s wrist, stopping the doctor from reaching the bell.
“It is every bit my business,” Conrad said in a low, dangerous voice. “Those were my children, Doctor. You’re going to tell me what happened to them and where they are now.”
Futrelle’s eyes looked wild and panicky behind the thick lenses of his spectacles. “You’re insane! I don’t know what you’re talking about. None of this ever happened—”
“Show me the records, Doctor,” Conrad grated. If he found out what he needed to know at the sanitarium, he wouldn’t have to go to Serrano’s. “Showme the records, or my lawyers will be in court first thing tomorrow morning filing motions.”
“You can’t force me to do such a thing! It’s not legal.”
“Maybe not, but it certainly wouldn’t be a good thing for your business to be dragged into the light of a courtroom, would it?”
“But … but … I can’t show you the records! There
aren’t
any records!”
Conrad’s grip on the doctor’s arm tightened. “Are you trying to tell me that Pamela wasn’t here?”
Futrelle shook his head. “No … No, she was here … but she took all the records with her. When she left with … with the children … there were some men with her. I don’t know who they were, but they were very … threatening.”
Conrad drew in a deep breath. He didn’t doubt that Pamela had hired some thugs to make Futrelle turn over all the records. She had hired gunmen to kidnap and murder Rebel and then later to try to kill him. He wondered suddenly if Eddie Murtagh had been working for her even back then.
The main thing filling his mind at the moment was Futrelle’s admission that Pamela had left with the children. It was the first direct evidence Conrad had found that the children even existed.
“The twins,” he said softly. “They were twins?”
Futrelle jerked his head in a nod. “That’s right.”
“Boys? Girls?”
“One of each,” the doctor said.
A powerful sensation, almost like a physicalblow, coursed through Conrad. He was a father. He had a son and a daughter. Even though he had read Pamela’s hateful letter dozens of times, even though he’d heard Mallory’s report about a patient at the sanitarium who might have been Pamela and who might have given birth to twins, he finally had proof. It was a world-changing revelation that went right to his very core.
He let go of Futrelle’s arm and stepped back. His hands covered his face for a moment. He felt stunned. But he was alert enough to realize he’d made a mistake.
Futrelle lunged forward and slapped his hand down on the bell push. “You won’t get away with coming in here and threatening me like this,” Futrelle gloated. “Now you’ll