“And Officer Brian Hutchinson,” the taller one added, bending down to Keera’s peephole so she’d get a good wide-angle view of his face then his badge. “Would you please open the door?”
“Is it medical business?” she shouted at them, as she unlatched the first of three safety chains then finally pulled back the dead bolt. A little extra precaution as a result of living alone.
“No, ma’am, it’s not,” Officer Hutchinson said, stepping forward as soon as the door opened to him. He held out his leather wallet for her to match his photo with his face. Then tucked it away when she’d nodded her satisfaction. “I’m sorry to say it’s personal.”
That’s when the first grain of relief shot through her. Keera Murphy didn’t have a personal life. Everything about her was medicine. “How? I mean, what?”
Officer James chose that moment to step out from behind Hutchinson, and the only thing Keera saw was the bundle in her arms. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” Were they bringing her a patient? A child? No. This was a mistake. Didn’t make sense. They were at the wrong house, or had the wrong person. That had to be it. They wanted the Keera Murphy who was a pediatrician, if there was such a person, and she was the Keera Murphy who did cardiac surgery.
“I’m sorry to say, there’s no easy way to do this,” Officer Hutchinson continued. “But earlier this evening your husband and a yet unidentified passenger were killed in a single vehicle crash off Mountain Canyon Road. Your daughter was thrown free, and escaped without injury. We did have her checked at a clinic near there, and except for some scrapes and bruises she’s fine. In shock, I think, because she’s not talking, maybe a little lethargic due to the trauma. But the doc who looked at her said she was basically good.”
“I’m glad, but this is a mistake because I’m not married.” Keera took a step backwards, braced herself against the wall. “Divorced. No children.”
“Kevin Murphy,” Hutchinson continued. “Kevin Joseph Murphy, ma’am. Your husband, according to some legal papers we found at the scene. House deed, this address.”
“But we’re not... Haven’t been...” She shut her eyes, trying to focus. Kevin was dead? Their marriage had been a real stinker and their divorce nasty in epic proportions, but she wouldn’t have wished this on him. “You’re sure?” she finally managed.
“Yes, ma’am. We have a full identification on your husband but not his passenger. We were hoping...”
Keera glanced at the officer holding the child, wondering why they’d brought her here. Wondering if this was the child who... It had to be. Who else could she be but the child he’d fathered while they had still been married? “Maybe the passenger is his second wife. Melanie, Melodie, something like that.” Or the one after her, if there’d already been another as Kevin seemed to have his women in fast succession. “Melania, that’s her name. Melania.” Keera’s head was spinning now the information was finally beginning to sink in. Kevin was dead, most likely along with his second wife. And their child... “She’s not mine,” she said.
“But you were listed as Mr. Murphy’s wife and next of kin, so we assumed—”
“Wrong assumption,” she said, cutting him off. “Old information. My husband and I divorced a few months ago, the papers you found were probably from part of the agreement.” Or, in their case, disagreement. “He called several days ago, said he had some final papers for me to sign, and that child...” She shook her head. “Part of his second marriage.” Kevin’s secret to keep, along with his mistress.
“Then we have a problem,” Carla James said, “because we have nowhere to take the child for the night.”
A little girl, she’d been told. Keera had never actually seen her. Hadn’t ever wanted to see her. Didn’t want to see her now, even though that was about to change. “Surely, there’s a foster-home with an opening. Or some kind of contingency in place for situations like this one?”
Both police officers shook their heads.
“Social services?” Hopeful question with an answer she’d already guessed.
“That would be me,” a perky young woman said from behind Officer James. “My name is Consuela Martinez, and I’m the temporary case manager assigned to Megan. And right now I don’t have a contingency plan that would be in the child’s best interests. We were hoping her family—”
“But I’m not her family,” Keera interrupted.
Consuela stepped out in plain sight, the yellow of the porch light giving her more of a jaundiced look than it should. And just like that Keera switched to doctor mode, her mind ticking off various conditions that came with a yellow tinge...one of the reasons Kevin had strayed, he claimed. Too much doctor too much of the time. Sadly, she hadn’t had an argument to counter his because, in the end, she had loved her medicine more than she’d loved her husband or their marriage.
“Look, I know there’s a contingency plan,” Keera said. “When a child is involved there’s always a contingency plan.” It was said without conviction because she really didn’t know that to be the case. But she hoped it was, or else...
“You’re right. Usually there is. Except right now. Every spot we have for someone Megan’s age and developmental stage is filled,” the case worker continued. “But I can have a callout to other agencies in other areas by morning, or we might be able to shift a few children to other situations, and after that—”
“Are you taking flucloxacillin, by any chance, Consuela?” Keera interrupted, so totally not wanting to hear that Megan had no place to go tonight.
Consuela looked confused. For that matter, so did both police officers. “Um, yes. I am. For an outer ear infection. Why?”
“You might want to call your doctor first thing in the morning and mention that you’re having an adverse reaction to the drug. Nothing serious, so don’t be alarmed. But it’s worth noting.” And that didn’t change the problem at hand, as there was still a child bundled in Officer James’s arms who needed a place to stay. “Sorry,” she said. “Force of habit. Part of my job is paying attention to the details, and I’ve been told I can go overboard about it.”
“It’s good to know you’re conscientious, Doctor,” Officer Hutchinson said, “but it’s two-thirty, and we’re not getting any closer to figuring out what to do with—”
“With my ex-husband’s child.” It was an irony coming back to slap her hard. This was his secret child, the one he’d told her he’d fathered but had only told her on the child’s first birthday. His first devastating confession, followed by how much he loved the baby’s mother, how he wanted a divorce, wanted to keep their house for his new family... But none of that was Megan’s fault, was it? “You’re sure there’s really no place for her to go tonight?”
“The county home,” Consuela said, “which I try to avoid when I can, especially for children so young. It’s a large facility, too many children. The younger ones get...overlooked.”
“It’s an—”
“An institution, ma’am,” Officer James volunteered. “In the traditional sense. But if you’re rejecting the child, it’s our only recourse, because I can’t stand on your doorstep all night, holding her.”
“No, of course you can’t,” Keera said, taking a step backwards as she felt her resolve start to melt. Another step, pause...taking a moment to gird her resolve. Then another backwards step, and finally the gesture to enter her home. And as Officer James passed her, Keera took her first good look at Megan, and if it weren’t for the fact that the room was filled with people...strangers, she would have fallen to her knees. Would have cried. The lump in her throat started to choke her, and the light feeling in her head caused the room to spin. “Please, lay her on the sofa. I can sit up in