Chapter Fourteen #2
Hal sat in the seat Greta had vacated. “Greta’s on the phone with her daughter explaining why she won’t be going to her granddaughter’s basketball game.
By dinnertime everyone in Tolerance will know what you found out here.
Just be ready for it. Everyone’s going to have a theory until Doc Steele and the state investigator figure out who that baby belonged to—if it’s even possible to know—and what happened to it. ”
“Won’t the doctor have to take the remains—” She leaned a hand on the back of her chair and shook her head slowly. “I hate referring to that baby as ‘remains,’ but I hate saying baby even though that’s what it is. Or was, before whatever happened.”
“Why don’t you sit?” Hal got up. “I can make my own tea.”
“I’m sorry.” Kit sat. “I feel like I almost don’t even know how to react.
It’s horrible. But I can’t help but wonder, did Maxine know that was in there?
Did she put it there? If she did, why in God’s name did she have the remains of a baby in her bedroom?
Was it hers?” The thought occurred to her then that it might have been .
. . “Oh, God, could it have been my mother’s?
My grandmother’s? No, that wouldn’t make sense, would it? Could it be that old?”
“There’s no point in speculating. We’ll do our best to figure it out. It might not have been anyone who’s related to you.” Hal turned on the burner under the kettle to reheat the water.
“What, like some stranger sneaked into the house and left the remains of their child? Wrapped it in a quilt and put it in the chest and walked out?”
“Right now, no one knows how that bundle came to be in this house or how long it’s been here. Certainly, there are a lot of unanswered questions, but we’ll take it step by step.”
“I guess you can use Maxine’s DNA to see if there’s a match,” Kit offered. “You can tell if someone’s related and to what degree, right?”
“Assuming we can find something with her DNA on it.”
“My kids gave my sister and me DNA tests for Christmas a couple of years ago. It was right after our mother died. I remember we sent our spit off in tubes, but I never really looked at the account, and I doubt my sister did, either. She was diagnosed with cancer very shortly after and I guess we both sort of forgot about it. But I have read how they can match you with first, second, third, even fourth cousins. Maybe someone—a cousin—came to visit Maxine and had a baby with her and—” Kit threw up her hands. “And . . . I don’t know what.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There may come a time when we ask you to look into that, but let’s not jump to conclusions.
” The kettle hadn’t whistled but Hal apparently thought the water was hot enough because he searched the cupboard for a mug and took a tea bag from the box on the counter.
“I’m sure the state investigator is going to want her toothbrush or her hairbrush, or—”
“No toothbrush, no hairbrush,” Greta announced as she came back into the room.
“Did you look in her bathroom?” Kit asked.
“Yes, I did. Right after she died. I thought I’d clean up a bit, you know, thinking her family would be along, so I tossed them when I cleaned the bathroom.” Greta looked apologetically at Hal. “Sorry. It never occurred to me that we’d need Maxine’s DNA.”
“The evidence response team will see if they can find something they can use. They’re going to want to do whatever is necessary to identify the child,” Hal said.
“Or they could swab Kit.” Greta sat at the table.
“She’s Maxine’s closest relative. She and the baby would have some common DNA markers, right?
” She turned to Kit. “If the baby was Maxine’s, he or she would have been your cousin.
And since your mother didn’t have any other siblings, if it comes back as a cousin, it would have to have been Maxine’s child.
” She shook her head. “Poor thing to have ended up wrapped up like that—”
Kit cut her off. “Greta’s right, Chief. It’s probably faster to test me than it would be to comb through this house looking for something that might have Maxine’s DNA.”
“Good point. I’ll let the state police know.” Hal stood. “I hear Doc Steele coming down the steps. Let me see what’s what.”
Kit followed Hal into the front hall while Greta made herself another cup of tea.
“No, there’s no way of telling right now,” the doctor was saying.
“From a preliminary examination, I can say I didn’t see any signs of abuse—no broken bones, the hyoid bone wasn’t broken as you’d expect to see if a baby was severely shaken or strangled.
No other bones broken, no nicks on the bones that would indicate a knife wound, but I’ll know more after I take a better look back at the hospital.
It’s tough to make a call when we’re only looking at bones, no soft tissue.
Hal, I’ll make sure you get a copy of the report. ”
Kit grimaced at the thought. “So it could have been disease or SIDS or it could have been a stillbirth.”
“Who are you?” the doctor asked.
“I’m Kit Porterfield, Maxine Meadows’s niece.”
He smiled. “My dad still talks about a girl he had the biggest crush on back in school. Barbie Meadows. Could she have been your mother?”
“She was, yes. She passed away two years ago,” Kit told him.
“I’m sorry to hear that. My dad’s still with us, bless his heart. He doesn’t remember a whole lot these days, but he remembered your mother for years.”
“She was quite memorable. Thanks.”
“To answer your question, yes, it could have been any one of those things. Frankly, we may never know, since like I just said, we’re left with skeletal remains and not much else.
Right now, I’m guessing this case will be treated as a suspicious death by the state, but only because there’s no obvious cause of death. ”
“So you think this could have been a homicide?” Kit asked.
“I didn’t say that, though there is no way to tell without running some tests on the remains.
However, judging by its small size, if I had to make a guess, I’d say it was more likely a late-term miscarriage or a stillbirth.
If the death had been deliberate, it’s unlikely the remains would have been kept all these years. ”
The sound of a car door slamming drew their attention to the front yard.
“Looks like the detective’s here,” the doctor said. “I’ll just have a word with her.” He turned. “Hal?”
The doctor walked out, leaving the door open for the police officer to follow.
“You’re in luck,” Hal told Kit as he passed her. “They sent Detective Stevens. She’s one of the best.”
Greta peered out the front door. “Looks awful young to me.”
“Greta, everyone looks young to you.” Hal closed the door behind him.
“What do you suppose they’re talking about out there?” Greta continued to stare.
“Probably what you’d expect them to talk about.” Kit glanced at her watch. She really needed to talk to Russ. “I need to make a phone call. I’ll be back.”
Kit went into the alcove and sat at the table where she and Greta had had lunch. It seemed like days ago that they’d chatted about Maxine, no indication of what the rest of the day would hold.
Russ’s number rang and rang. She disconnected the call without leaving a voicemail. She was just about to call Beth when Russ called back.
“So what’s this serious emergency that’s going to keep you from coming home tonight?” he asked.
She decided to ignore his attempt to bait her and cut right to the chase.
“Earlier today, I found the remains of a baby in Maxine’s room. The state police detective just arrived.”
He laughed out loud. “Good one. No one’s ever accused you of lacking imagination. Why don’t you just come out and say you don’t want to be here and you had no intention of coming back?”
“I don’t have a choice, Russ. I own the property where the remains were found. I tried to get a flight tomorrow, but so far I haven’t found one that would get to Philly on time.”
“I have to hand it to you, Kit. When you don’t want to do something, you dig your heels in.”
“Why do you think I don’t want to go? I planned on going all along.”
“I don’t recall having seen any real interest. For your Maine adventure, yes. My retirement party? Ho-hum. I almost expected you to make up an excuse not to be here.”
“I’m not making this up, Russ. I was looking through a blanket chest that belonged to Maxine, and we—Greta, my aunt’s friend was here—and we found the skeleton of a baby wrapped in a—”
Hal came into the front hallway along with the doctor and the state trooper. “Ms. Porterfield?”
“I’m in here.” She walked through the living room into the hall, the phone still in her hand.
“This is Detective Stevens. She’s going to be handling the investigation. Detective, this is Kit Porterfield. She owns the house and found the remains.”
“I was there, too,” Greta reminded him.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Kit said to the small group. “Russ, I have to go. Believe what you want.”
“Kit, wait—” she heard him say as she disconnected the call. She turned back to the detective. “I guess you want to see what we found . . .”
“Dr. Steele can show me, thanks.” The detective’s pleasant smile was meant to assure Kit, but there was no mistaking her intent: Stay downstairs, away from the scene.
Kit watched her and the two men climb the steps to the second floor.
“She acts like she thinks you had something to do with it,” Greta whispered.
“Thanks, Greta. I needed to hear that.”
“Sorry. Sorry,” Greta mumbled. “I just meant . . .”
“I know. They want to keep everyone out of that room for now. I get it. I’m not offended.
” Kit walked to the side window and looked out.
The sun was lower in the sky than it had been even an hour ago.
She began to worry about driving back down the road in the dark.
“I wonder how much longer they’re going to be up there. ”
“Could be hours. On the TV shows, they bring in all kinds of investigators,” Greta noted.