Rain of Innocence

By Vivian Potts

For six years Ted Hillyer had received anonymous letters from a woman stating she has his child, a child he will never know. Knowing he and his wife will never have a child he enlists the help of his attorney brother Jason to aid in the search for the woman. Jason reluctantly agrees, when he reads the letters and realizes the writer despises his brother. The trail leads him to an unexpected and personal conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 17, 2001
• ISBN: 9781462084920

Vivian Potts

Vivian Potts is a member of the Wisconsin Regional Writers’ Association, and Fox Valley Writers. She has been to numerous writing seminars, such as the annual Santa Barbara Writers Conference, Press Women’s, Wisconsin Regional Writers Association. She has won several short story contests and has had two short stories published. She has another novel in progress.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Eyes closed, throat constricted, she listened to the night sounds. All around her crickets shrilled their songs. If she moved, the pain would be excruciating and she didn’t want to scream. Screams hadn’t helped her before, and she wasn’t even sure there was any voice left, not after the pressure his large hands had applied to her throat.

Though a rustling sound nearby frightened her, she remained silent, hoping it was just a small animal.

After a few minutes, she tried forcing her eyes open, but the left eye remained shut, tearing behind its swollen lid. She could barely see out of the right eye. Trying to raise herself with her left arm was futile because of pain. Relying on the right arm, she slowly raised herself to a sitting position. Her small breasts glowed silvery in the moonbeam. She cringed when she noticed the teeth marks and modestly tried to cover herself with the torn bodice of her dress.

Tasting blood, she forced swelled lips apart, wincing. The burning between her legs, the stickiness and the memory washed over her. She gasped, then retched.

Using what strength that was left to her, she stood on wobbly legs, remembering the drive up the canyon.

Shivering, she tried to get her bearings and, turning her head, saw lights from the city reflected in the sky. She listened for a sound of traffic that would lead her to a road, to home…to Mama.

CHAPTER 2

Jason Hillyer glanced at his watch, frowning. It had been thirty minutes since his brother had called, demanding to see him immediately. If Ted didn’t hurry, Jason would have to leave or be late for his date with Paula Wentworth. He reached for the phone, but was interrupted by Tina, his secretary, poking her head in the door.

Ted is here.

Jason glimpsed his brother behind Tina. Thanks, Tina. You may leave. He watched Ted brush past the girl, carrying a briefcase. I told you I had a date with Paula, Ted.

His brother shut the door. Sorry, Jay, but I need to talk with you and it’s going to take more than a few minutes, so maybe you better call her and tell her you’ll be late.

Ted Hillyer had always been assertive, selfish when it came to his own needs but, judging by his dark brooding look, Jason decided that whatever Ted came to tell him was serious. He called Paula, telling her an emergency had come up, allowing her assumption that it was a client. Telling her he would call her later, he dropped the receiver into the cradle and leaned back in the high-backed chair behind the large cherry wood desk.

Ted took the chair opposite him. He frowned and mumbled.

Now that I’m here, I don’t know where or how to begin. After running his fingers through dark, gray-sprinkled hair, his hand rested at the nape of his neck.

Start at the beginning, Jason suggested, squelching the familiar impatience rising in him. The brothers, although close as youngsters, had grown apart in their late teens. It was very unusual for Ted to seek him out.

Ted placed the briefcase on his lap, opened it and extracted a packet of letters banded together. He hesitated only a second before tossing the packet on the desk in front of Jason. Open the bottom letter. It’s the first, and they’re chronological.

Jason removed the rubber band and looked at the bottom envelope. This is dated almost six years ago.

Read it.

Jason took a single sheet of paper, unfolded it and read aloud. This is to inform you that you have a child. You will never know the sex, age or its whereabouts. The child will never know you are its father. I want you to think about a child out there with Hillyer blood running through its veins, a child you will never know. With all your wealth and power, you are unable to correct this child’s correctable birth defect. I control this situation, and you, Ted Hillyer, are powerless. Jason looked at the envelope. This is postmarked Nevada.

Ted took several letters from the stack. That one is. Here, take your pick, he said, flipping each envelope on the desk as if dealing. Colorado, Illinois, New York, there’s even one from Canada. She travels a lot or uses mailing services. The bitch is smart.

Is it true? Do you believe the child is yours?

Of course I do. I sowed some wild oats before Claire and I married. Why would anyone keep sending me these letters for six years if it weren’t true, for Christ’s sake? Ted sat forward in the chair. This thing is driving me out of my mind, Jay, and I need your help to find this child.

My help? What do you think I can do about it? I’m a corporate lawyer, not a detective. Jason glanced at the stack of files on the corner ofhis desk, all cases pending. A busy attorney, I might add. His hazel eyes darkened. Was it your idea to get me tangled up in this, or Dad’s to…

Dad doesn’t know anything about this, and I want to keep it that way, Ted interjected. At least, for the time being. If we find this child, then I’ll tell the folks, but not now. He removed an envelope from the breast pocket of his suit coat. This one came today. It’s from Olympia, the first one I’ve received from this state.

Read it, Jason said.

She says the child has been ill with something that may or may not be outgrown. There have been many bouts with this illness throughout the child’s life. He looked at Jason. What the hell is she trying to say, that the child still has the defect? Has she let the kid go all this time without getting help for it?

Take it easy, what else does she say?

Ted threw the letter on the desk and stood in one swift movement, covering his eyes with one large hand. I can’t take much more of this. He lowered his hand, looking at his brother as if weighing something. After a brief moment, he spoke. I’m never going to have a family with Claire, Jay. Dr. Hargrove confirmed it last week. Claire will never bear a child. He placed both hands, palms down, on the desk, and looked Jason in the eye. I want that child, damn it.

Jason recognized desperation and anger in his brother. He stood, going to the sideboard where he poured two brandies, then gave one to Ted.

Drink it, he said, picking up the letter that Ted had thrown down.

Since the child has been in school, the subject of fathers has come up, Jason read. In its mind, I have killed you, Ted Hillyer. I have told your child you are dead, that it has no father. I’ve killed you, Ted Hillyer. The letter ended there and Jason turned it over as if expecting more. My God, she despises you.

That’s quite obvious all the way through that entire pile of letters. Ted gulped the brandy and poured himself another. A woman with that much hatred has no business raising any kid, and certainly not my kid!

I don’t know how you expect me to find her unless you can pinpoint the women you were with before Claire, Jason said, sitting down. It would help if we knew the age of the child.

I’ve been trying to think of the women I’ve slept with in the past and where they are now. Most of them are from around here, except for those in college and when I was on vacation.

What you’re trying to say is, there were plenty one-night stands, and it could be any one of them, Jason said, tiredly. He fingered the envelopes, trying to deny his own interest in the bizarre situation.

There has to be a way to break through this mess. I’ve even had the letters tested for fingerprints, and the only prints found were mine. She uses paper untouched by anyone. The typewriters aren’t even the same most of the time. This woman is clever, Jay.

She’s not only clever, but she’s careful if, in all this time, she hasn’t slipped once in letting you know the sex or age of this child.

Never. She refers to the child as it. There’s not a hint of environment or what the child looks like, how much it weighs, the coloring, nothing. Ted sank into the chair. I had never felt helpless once in my life until those Goddamn letters started coming. At this point, I’d welcome someone pinning a paternity rap on me, but this—Jesus, she’s doing just the opposite. It’s killing me to know I’ve fathered a child once in my life and I can’t have him. Staying married to Claire, I’ll never have another.

I’m sorry about Claire. How is she taking all this?

This? Ted motioned to the letters. She doesn’t know anything about these letters. They all come to the company, marked personal. She talks about adoption, but I won’t adopt, not when I know there’s a kid of my own out there somewhere.

Jason frowned. He liked Claire, but in many ways she was too compliant with Ted’s wishes. She needed to develop more backbone, more resistance to her husband. You’ll probably never find this child, Ted. Why deprive Claire and yourself of children because of this situation?

It’s not the same. You know how Dad is about the family bloodlines. He wouldn’t accept an adopted child as his grandchild.

You don’t know that. Right now, he and Mother would welcome a grandchild. They’re not getting any younger, and Kyle and Therese don’t want children. Rick’s not married, besides he’s too irresponsible, and Mary isn’t in any rush to marry and have a family.

There’s you and Paula. When are you going to the tie the knot? Ted asked, downing the last of the brandy and setting his glass down. Your engagement has been the longest I’ve ever seen.

Well, the waters are choppy there. We haven’t hit it off too well these past few months, and it’s possible neither of us knows how to end it. Jason was surprised at telling what he had kept to himself for so long, especially since it was Ted he confided in. He folded his hands, making a tent with his forefingers. I’d appreciate if you’d keep that to yourself.

Certainly.

There’s a detective the firm uses frequently; Fred Campton. I’m not sure how good he is, but my partners seem satisfied with him. I’m going to peruse these letters, if you’ll leave them with me. Perhaps, I can spot something you’ve missed. At any rate, if Fred takes the case, he can be trusted. When I’m finished with the letters, I’ll have copies made and turn them over to him.

When?

Since you received the latest one today, I don’t want the trail to get cold, so I’ll call him tomorrow. I’ll read the letters tonight. Jason leaned back against the cushioned chair.

I don’t want to get your hopes up, Ted, because as I see it, we don’t have a clue.

What if I try to make a list of the women I’ve been with?

Of course, Fred will need that.

I’ll get it to you tomorrow morning.

All right. Now, unless you can think of something else, it’s seven thirty and I want to get out of here. Jason banded the letters together and threw them into the open briefcase on the shelf behind him, snapping it shut.

Ted followed his brother out of the office to the parking lot where Jason’s red Corvette was parked.

Reassuring Ted he would call him as soon as he contacted Fred Campton, Jason slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.

Paula’s irritation with Jason’s delay turned to outright anger when she learned Ted was the reason. She had met him at the door but when he reached for her she had backed away, waiting for his explanation.

I can’t tell you what it’s about, Paula, Jason insisted.

Paula, in heels, was almost eye level to Jason’s six-foot frame. She raised a hand to her auburn bangs and brushed at them. Eyes that turned apple green glared at him. I can’t believe this, Jason. All of a sudden you’re in cahoots with Ted! What has he gotten himself into now and why are you defending him?

He’s not in trouble, and I am not defending him. Jason, feet planted apart, stood his ground. Look, do you want to go to dinner or not?

Not unless you tell me what Ted wants from you.

I gave him my word.

Paula’s mouth tightened, her eyebrows raised. You’re serious.

Yes.

Damn it, Jay, how would you like it if I had a brother like Ted and left you waiting while I put him ahead of you?

Paula’s earlier irritation about Ted was now directed at Jason and he didn’t like being caught in the middle. I’m not getting into this, he said, turning away from her. He reached for the doorknob. Are we going to dinner or not?

When she didn’t answer he turned to her and was struck in the face with the ring she threw at him. He watched it bounce on the thick gray carpeting. Are we finished? He asked, his voice devoid of feeling.

When you quit putting everyone ahead of me, then I’ll decide, she snapped.

He closed the door quietly behind him.

Jason substituted the dinner he missed with Paula with a cold turkey sandwich and hot coffee. While he read the letters, he sat comfortably in a favorite chair, his slippered feet propped on the ottoman. Charged with curiosity, he reached for the two letters he had set aside to be read again.

One of them was dated December 1976. He unfolded it, took a swallow of tepid coffee and read; Last night the child did something that has caused a delay in correcting the birth defect. It may be months, maybe years before it can be done. I discovered something about myself at the time of the event that I blame you for, Ted Hillyer.

That was all the letter said. It made Jason uncomfortable. What had the child done that would delay what he assumed was an operative correction? Worse yet, what had the mother discovered about herself that she blamed on a man she so obviously hated?

Jason picked up an earlier letter dated October 1976. He read it aloud. The child has lost someone it loved and was very close to. It cries for this person often. There is no one to comfort the child now. It must grow up independent. There are no memories, no traditions, no family for this child.

Damn it, he muttered in the quiet room as he re-read the last line. What did she mean no family or traditions? The child was a Hillyer, with plenty of those needs for a normal life. All she had to do was contact Ted. And why was there no one to comfort the child? What about the mother, what about her? Did she hate Ted so much that she spread the hatred to the child?

He began to understand what torment Ted must be feeling. All sorts of possibilities raced through his head. What if the mother died or got sick? Who would take the child? How would they ever find it? There was no clue, just as Ted had stated, not an inkling of what part of the country they lived in.

One thing was certain. If the woman meant to torment Ted, she was doing a splendid job. But why? Ted had denied any woman coming to him because she was pregnant, either in the past or the present. Everything indicated that the letters were sent by a vindictive person, but in revenge for what? These were all questions Jason hoped would be answered by Fred Campton once his investigation began. In the meantime, he wanted to question Ted more carefully.

CHAPTER 3

Laura Whitney had passed up most Realty Board meetings in the three years she had been in Seattle, but she couldn’t continue making excuses. For three years, she had been a broker in Griffin Carroll’s office, and tonight he expected her to be at the Realty Board banquet. Jason Hillyer, the guest speaker, would sit at their table. She had to admit, she was more than curious. The Hillyers were among the most prominent people in the paper business in Seattle.

Sitting in her bedroom, Laura examined her face in the vanity mirror. Skin, still moist from the shower, was as smooth as the lips she touched with fingertips. Peering at her image, she noticed her hair, once almost platinum, now a tawny color. Glancing at the old photograph she held, she was convinced of the total change in her appearance. Her face had lost its baby fat, her cheek bones defined an oval face. She was twenty-three years old, passing quite successfully for twenty-seven.

There was a faint tap on her bedroom door. Laura tossed the photograph on the table, sighed, then called out, Yes, Rain, just a minute. Slipping into a white velour robe, she went to the door and opened it.

The little girl looked up at her mother with imperfect eyes behind the corrective lenses she wore.

Come in, Laura said, returning to the vanity. She picked up the brush and looked at the child who stood next to her. What do you want?

May I st—stay up late tonight? She stammered.

Why?

There’s no school tomorrow; it’s Saturday, the child replied very softly. Mrs. Glover said I can if you say I can.

Laura studied Rain, noting how her left eye still turned inward, despite the surgery, a problem more prominent when she was tired. There was nothing even remotely familiar to Laura’s family, paternal or maternal, in Rain, except the petite stature. She was small for her age, and her bouts with asthma didn’t help; she wouldn’t eat while in an asthma attack. At best, her appetite was poor.

May I, M-Mother? she asked, wringing her little hands together.

Only until eight-thirty. You’re already tired. Now run along so I can get ready.

Laura watched Rain leave the room as quietly as she had entered. A frown spoiled the smoothness of Laura’s brow. Had she imagined it, or was Rain’s left eye worse? It was doubtful the specialists could do any more correction than what they had already done, but she would ask. With a sigh, she began to dress.

Laura was late leaving home, and traffic across town was bumper to bumper. By the time she drove the white Cadillac up to the hotel and dropped the keys into the parking attendant’s hand, she was thirty minutes late. She asked the desk clerk for directions to the banquet room and at twenty to eight, she entered the large room.

It was quiet with everyone listening to the speaker on stage at the far end of the room. Laura checked her coat and stuffed her ticket in the clutch she carried. When her eyes adjusted to the darkened room, she made her way toward the table in front of the stage. She slipped into the vacant chair between Griffin Carroll and Amy Quinn.

It’s about time you got here, Amy scolded in a harsh whisper. I thought for sure you had backed out again.

Sh-h. Laura looked up at the man standing behind the podium discussing real estate law. She judged him to be six feet tall. His dark auburn hair, although styled perfectly, had a curly, unruly texture.

When he smiled, his teeth, beneath the meticulously trimmed moustache, gleamed white. From her vantage point, Jason Hillyer was just about the most handsome man she had ever seen.

She listened intently to his lecture. Once in a while he would add a bit ofhumor, which the crowd responded to warmly. When he finished, the applause was deafening.

Laura watched him leave the stage and approach the table. He grasped Griffin’s outstretched hand and took the seat directly across from her. Griffin introduced them, and Jason extended his hand. Laura placed her hand in his, then withdrew it quickly to hide its tremble.

Laura, dear, what are you drinking? Griffin asked, placing his arm around her shoulders in a fatherly fashion.

White wine.

Jason studied Laura carefully. Her voice was husky but soft. He had never been attracted to petite or extremely beautiful women before, but she was an illusion in the cream chiffon dress and single strand of pearls at her delicate throat. Her abundant hair touched her shoulders and swayed like a heavy gold drape when she moved her head.

Amy recognized captivation when she saw it. Jason Hillyer was enthralled with Laura. She also knew from past experience that Laura would discourage any advances he made. Amy was inclined to believe Rain’s father was the reason Laura refused any attempt at closeness with the opposite sex. Why else was she so cold to the men who had tried to date her and failed? Amy listened to Jason’s attempt to draw Laura into conversation and was astounded when Laura responded to him.

How long have you been in real estate, Laura? he asked.

About six years.

You don’t look old enough to have been in the business that long.

Laura laughed softly. Thank you. She took a small sip of the wine. Your lecture was quite interesting, Mr. Hillyer.

Don’t call me Mr. Hillyer; the name is Jason, and I’m glad you liked my speech.

I’m interested in commercial properties, since I’ve acquired some commercial listings.

A subject I barely touched on, he said, never taking his eyes from her. How long have you been with Griff?

A little over three years.

That long, he stated, thoughtfully. Then why haven’t we met before?

Uncomfortable under his steady scrutiny and direct questions, Laura took another drink of wine, buying time to think of an answer. Finding none, she said, Why do I get the feeling I’m on the stand in your courtroom?

A good-natured smile spread across his face. Is that your answer?

I’m afraid so. I really don’t know why we haven’t met before.

My loss. His hazel eyes remained fixed on her.

Amy waited for Laura to put Jason Hillyer in his place, even though she would be sorry if she did. He was likable, terribly good-looking, and there was all that Hillyer money; besides which, they would make a striking couple. Amy liked Jason from the few times she had talked with him at other dinners where he had lectured. He seemed popular and, at ease with both men and women, unlike most attractive men who sought out only the fairer sex. It seemed to her there was a girlfriend, but tonight he was alone.

Laura drank slowly, lowering her glass to the table, and feeling a chill travel up her spine. Jason was not Ted Hillyer. He didn’t even look like Ted Hillyer, and she was no longer the sixteen-year-old girl who had trusted so blindly, so innocently. The opportunity to find out more about Rain’s heritage was there for the taking. Jason was already interested in her, so all she had to do was be charming. It was the chance she had been waiting for. Once she crossed into his world, she would inevitably meet Ted again and she would have a chance to see what effect her letters had, if any. It didn’t matter to her that she was going to use Jason Hillyer to expose his brother. She had waited a long time for this.

Laura forced a smile. Now that I’ve heard what an enlightening speaker you are, I’ll be sure to attend the next.

Amy could not believe what she was hearing. What was Laura up to?

Jason smiled. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to wait quite that long to see you again. I was thinking more like tomorrow night. Dinner, for instance.

Oh, how easily he fell into her plan, Laura thought, but she must not appear too eager. I’m not sure I’m free tomorrow.

Jason was not to be discouraged. There’s always Sunday.

Amy had the feeling she was watching a cat-and-mouse game, and wasn’t sure who was the prey.

Sunday is definitely out, Laura said, remembering Mrs. Glover was not available on Sunday to stay with Rain.

How can you be so sure you’re not free on Sunday and not know about Saturday? he asked suspiciously.

Schedules are like that in this business. We don’t work from nine to five, five days a week, like most people. The barb was there, but Laura sweetened it with a smile.

Amy, do you get the feeling this young lady doesn’t want to have dinner with me?

Amy threw up her hands. Don’t drag me into this. I won’t be your mediator.

I suppose the best solution is to call you tomorrow after you’ve had a peek at your calendar, Jason said to Laura. You will agree to that, I hope.

Laura nodded. Yes, I’ll agree to that. He did not discourage easily, and her waiting was about to end. For the past seven years she had thought of so many different ways to infiltrate the Hillyer family. At last, she would have her wish. But something nagged at the back of her mind. When she was a child and wished for things she shouldn’t have, her mother would hug her and tell her to be careful what she wished for, that she might just get it.

Much later, when she was getting ready for bed, Laura remembered that Jason hadn’t named a restaurant, and she hoped