From Here to Paternity

killed? I like your kids, but I don’t want to raise them for you.“
    Jane thought for a long moment, then raised her hand like a child who suddenly knows the answer to a question. “HawkHunter is doing a reading from his book tomorrow night. Don’t you think we could get everybody to attend?“
    Shelley frowned. “Maybe so. You really think we can get all our ducks in a row by then? It’s less than twenty-four hours away.“
    Jane lighted a cigarette and started pacing again.
    She stopped at the sliding glass doors to the deck and looked up toward Flattop Mountain. “I’ll bet—“ She broke off, stared at the cigarette in her hand, and then back at the mountain. “Omigod! Shelley! I’ve got the rest of it, too! Mel was right! It was self-defense and money! Oh, Shelley, we have so much to do first thing in the morning. For one thing, we have to find that skier in the red oufit!“
    “I’m sure this is going to make some kind of sense when you quit gasping and snorting and explain yourself,“ Shelley said.
    “Oh, it will. It sure will!“

Chapter 23

    In the end, it became necessary to explain to the sheriff. There was simply too much to do in one day that required the authority of law—or at least the seeming authority. The sheriff, to his credit, went along with Jane’s plan. It wasn’t so much that he believed her as it was pure and simple desperation. Although he didn’t admit as much, he and his men were getting nowhere fast and he regarded any possible solution as better than none.
    “He’s just hedging his bets,“ Mel said. “If you’re right, you might deliver a confessed murderer to him. If you’re wrong, you’ve made a fool of yourself and he’s got nothing to do with it except to witness it.“
    “You think so?“ Jane asked as they headed down the road to the main complex of the resort.
    “I’m sure of it. You’ve got everything, haven’t you?“
    Jane glanced through the canvas bag she carried, ticking off in her mind the items she needed and double-checking that each was in its properly labeled envelope. “I think so. I hope so.“
    “You’re sure you don’t want me to do this?“
    “No, I’m fine.“
    That was a lie. Her stomach was in a knot; she was trembling with nerves. She couldn’t wait for this to be over. She was certain the information she’d compiled pointed to only one conclusion, but whether she could pile it up effectively enough to elicit a confession was a different matter entirely. A person who could cold-bloodedly murder two other individuals was capable of anything—even brazening out an open threat.
    In addition to nerves, she was suffering from weariness. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all the night before because her mind had kept racing around and around. And today had started early. A long, frustrating interview with the sheriff and with several other people. Phone calls. A long trudge up to the top of Flattop Mountain. More phone calls.
    Fortunately, Shelley had taken charge of the kids— keeping tabs on them, making sure they were entertained and out of the way. She’d even taken them to town and rented two complete sets of videos— everything she could find with Michael J. Fox for the girls and a half-dozen Sylvester Stallone films for the boys. It was she who ordered in vast quantities of pizza as well. Now the kids were all safely locked in their respective condos, gorging themselves and watching movies, and Shelley, Jane, and Mel were on their way to HawkHunter’s reading.
    It appeared to be surprisingly well attended. That shouldn’t have been a surprise, Jane realized. The resort was still swarming with genealogists and they tended to be interested in history of any time and place. And the sheriff had “requested“ that a number of people attend who might not otherwise have done so.
    They entered the conference room and took seats halfway back along the aisle by the inside wall. At first glance, the room was a “Study in Black and White.“ More than half the audience were members of the tribe, most of whom Jane had never seen. They were quiet, dignified people, with a few unusually well-behaved children scattered throughout the group. Contrasting with their dark hair were many heads of white hair, belonging to the genealogists, who tended to be of “mature“ years. There was a pleasant undertone of conversation as everyone waited for the program to begin. Jane glanced around, “taking roll.“
    Tenny Garner and