Chapter 38

Her heart skipped a beat. “So he did die.”

She shook her head. “No. Commander Archer was a good leader, but cold.”

Madison nodded her agreement, having reached that conclusion just by what Tiernan had revealed about his childhood. “I can imagine.”

“She didn’t want the Federation torn apart by two heirs, and she said there was no room for co-leaders. A commander had to make the final decision with no one having the authority to question him.”

Madison grimaced. “She was thinking all this as she held her babies?”

Joan scowled. “No, dear. She found out in her second trimester she was having twins, so she had time to think and plan. When the babies were born, she never held the younger one. Instead, she had me take him to his father, and troops escorted them from Seattle-Archer, along with instructions never to return.” Looking disgusted, she shook her head. “The woman just sent away her infant without looking back, as though he was no concern to her at all.”

Madison’s heart stuttered at the thought of giving up one of her babies. She’d barely begun to adjust to the idea of two, but she couldn’t imagine getting rid of one, especially for the so-called good of the Federation. “What a horrible woman. Still, perhaps that baby was the lucky one.” She frowned. “Being so cold, I’m surprised she didn’t just have the baby killed or something, to permanently remove proof.”

Joan sighed. “I suppose it was in the back of her mind that he might be a spare, in case something happened to Tiernan. Child mortality is a lot higher than it used to be before The End, so it was conceivable he wouldn’t survive, even with the best medical care available.”

A shiver of disgust shot through her. “She was a piece of work.”

“Assuredly.” Joan blinked. “She threatened my family if I ever said a word, and I believed she would kill them without hesitation after seeing how she treated her own flesh and blood.”

Madison squeezed her hand. “At least she’s gone now.”

Joan nodded, squeezing in return.

“Would you mind waiting here? I want to go get Tiernan. He deserves to know what you’ve told me, and you can answer his questions better than I can.” Seeing Joan’s reluctance, she said, “He has a right to know his brother, if he can find him, and you have nothing to fear. Catherine Archer is dead, and Tiernan will have no reason to protect her secret.”

Finally, Joan nodded. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. My husband died years ago, and I lost both my children, and my only grandchild, in a cholera outbreak about ten years after the twins’ birth.”

“I’m so sorry.” Madison got to her feet, casting one more reassuring glance at the older woman. “I’ll be back shortly.”

She hurried as fast as her bigger bulk would allow, taking the stairs with speed and caution as she made her way to Tiernan’s office. Aidan was busy at his desk in the outer office, and she nodded to him, but didn’t stop to speak. It still smarted that he had been so cold to her when he’d arrested her. She could understand he had been feeling protective of his friend, but it rankled to this day.

He didn’t try to stop her, and she wouldn’t have let him. Madison knocked and entered Tiernan’s office at the same time, relieved to find him alone. Rushing to the desk, she took the pen from his hand. “Come with me.”

He frowned. “I’m in the middle of—”

She put a finger to his lips. “Trust me, nothing can be as important as this. Joan needs to talk to you.”

“Joan?” He blinked.

Madison sighed. “My midwife. She was your mother’s midwife too—well, doctor at the time—and she was present at your birth. She has something very important to tell you.”

Concern crinkled his forehead. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

Temporarily sidetracked, Madison shook her head, grasping his hand tightly between hers. “They are fine. Both are just fine.”

His eyes widened, and he looked at her stomach as if he could see two babies from the outside. “Twins?” At her nod, he grinned. “One’s a girl, and one’s a boy.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.” There was no way to be sure unless she went to the hospital for something Susan called an ultrasound, which she might do if Oritz wasn’t her doctor, but she had a feeling he was right. Tugging on his hand, she said, “That’s very important, but not what Joan needs to tell you.”

He didn’t resist any longer and walked beside her, still grasping her hand as they exited the office and made their way up the stairs. He insisted on going at such a slow pace she was gnashing her teeth by the time they reached the third floor. It was all she could do not to vibrate with excitement as she led him into the suite and over to Joan.

For just a second, she thought the older woman had fallen asleep. As she bent closer, she realized Joan wasn’t breathing, and her head was at an odd angle. Hand trembling, she reached out to touch her neck for a pulse. “She’s dead.”

He frowned. “Do you think she had a stroke or something?”

Madison had very little medical training, but she had two good eyes, and as she moved Joan’s head to try checking a different spot for a pulse, it lulled forward with a cracking sound. Crying out, she jerked back. “Someone killed her, Tiernan. They strangled her or broke her neck.” Turning away from the kindly old woman, she buried her head in his chest. Who would do such a thing, and why? What was there to gain by an old woman’s death?

Tiernan put his arm around her, turning her gaze from Joan’s dead body. “Come with me.”

She followed willingly, her mind awhirl with questions, the predominant being, who would kill Joan? She voiced the question as he led her from the suite and down the hall, to another room she hadn’t entered before. “What is this?” she asked inanely as he took her a wingback chair, easing her into it before standing.

“My private study. Wait here while I summon soldiers to deal with…everything.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

She nodded, still wrapped in the hazy cocoon of shock that insulated her. Squeezing his fingers brought her a little strength, and she was able to let go when he stepped back. It took will power not to implore him to hurry up. Joan deserved to have her body moved with dignity, followed by a thorough investigation.

After Tiernan had left her, she stared at the unlit fireplace for a while, still trying to piece it all together. The only thing that made any sort of sense was someone knew what Joan had told her and wanted to keep Tiernan from learning anything else. But who would have known, and who could have slipped in to kill her in just the few minutes she’d been gone to fetch Tiernan?

She leaned her head back, taking a deep breath. As she did so, Madison noticed the portraits on the wall. The oldest was a real photograph that looked faded from age behind the ornate glass frame. She guessed it must be Celia Archer. The next picture was a portrait someone had painted of a stern-looking older man. He looked a bit like Tiernan, but more like Celia, complete with the same bright green eyes. Since he strongly resembled the pretentious statue in the courtyard of the hospital, she knew he was Joseph F. Archer.

Looking at the last picture hanging above the fireplace, Madison shivered. Perhaps she was imagining the coldness in those green eyes, based on what she had learned, but she didn’t think so. It seemed unlikely the third portrait was anyone but Catherine Archer. She had the same features, though more feminine, and slightly too-full lips as Tiernan. Her haughty gaze was frigid, though the brilliance of her emerald-green eyes should have lent some warmth by virtue of the normally warm shade.

“You were a horrible person,” whispered Madison, unable to look away from those eyes. They were compelling and arresting. Chilling…and familiar? Where had she seen them before? Was she allowing her imagination to conjure facts that weren’t real? Had she incorporated Joan’s description of the infant with the green eyes into her thoughts to produce such certainty? Or had she really seen those eyes somewhere besides in the cold, patrician face of Catherine Archer’s portrait?