Читать книгу One Smooth Stone - Marcia Lee Laycock - Страница 8

Chapter Four

Gil stepped out into the growing light of early morning. He took a deep breath and sighed. Another winter was closing in on him fast. He’d heard the distant helicopter again yesterday and wondered if it had landed at the mine site. Will there be a caretaker at the house already? He’d have to tread softly this time until he found out.

And if there isn’t? Will you stick around this time and wait for one? He envisioned running toward the chopper, watching the ground sink beneath him as the machine rose into the air, seeing the town grow on the horizon as they beat their way toward it. There would be so many things he could enjoy again. A normal bed. Running water. Fresh vegetables and fruit. Coffee.

He shook himself and turned back to his cabin. Not for you. Never again for you. But maybe you can scoff another steak and glass of that orange juice before the new guy arrives.

* * *

Steak dinner and huge hotel suite complete with fruit basket and room service. George was right. They’d laid out the red carpet. The only thing missing was the bottle of champagne. He wished it had been included. It might’ve helped him sleep. But he didn’t sleep well at all that night. The bed was too soft, the nightmares too real. He spent most of the night clicking through the drivel on TV. He was tempted to wake George, but waited until 6 a.m. and pounded on his door. Alex smirked when the young lawyer opened it, his hair sticking up at odd places, his eyes half open as he peered at his watch.

“It’s only 6:00, Alex. The appointment isn’t until—”

“Nine. I know. But the restaurant’s open. I’m hungry.”

George opened the door wide. “Come on in. Give me a minute to shower.”

Alex paced as he waited, firing questions through the partly opened bathroom door while George dressed.

“How far is the office from here?”

“Five minutes by cab.”

“Can we change the appointment to 8:00?”

“No. Nobody gets there ’til 8:30.”

George poked his head out. “Alex, I know you’re anxious but—”

“Okay, okay. I’m trying to be patient.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Hurry up, will ya?”

He was patting his pockets for his lighter when George said, “This is a no smoking room.”

Alex rolled his eyes and slipped the cigarette behind his ear. George’s head disappeared and Alex started pacing as he heard the buzz of a razor. When it stopped the door opened wide.

“Uh...would you like to use this?”

Alex rubbed at his coarse beard. He’d intended to let it grow for the winter, but decided he’d like the change. He nodded and took the razor from George’s hand. When he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later he had to admit he felt better.

George grinned. “You clean up pretty good.”

“So the girls tell me.”

“Uh, there’s a barber downstairs, you know, if you’d like a haircut. We have time.”

Alex gave his head a quick shake. “The shave’ll do. You ready?”

They both dove into the breakfast buffet and an hour later emerged on the busy Seattle street just as the morning rush hour took hold. The noise, the speed at which everything moved, the smell of wet concrete and exhaust fumes–it all made Alex twitch. He felt the muscles between his shoulders tightening.

George glanced at his watch. “We still have lots of time. Want to walk?”

Alex nodded as he reached for the cigarette behind his ear. “Yeah, that might help.”

The downtown district was filling with people. They crossed intersections that made him feel like a drone in a beehive. He felt a vague dizziness as he joined the sway of so many bodies. Looking up a few times, his eyes followed the straight lines of glass and steel, trying to catch a patch of open sky and regain perspective. George seemed to take that as a cue and pointed out some of Seattle’s famous buildings. Alex wasn’t much interested, but welcomed the distraction. When they stopped in front of a large modern building with gleaming blue windows George waved his hand. “This is it,” he said. In a few long strides he was at the door, holding it wide.

Alex stared from the sidewalk. His heart raced, the palms of his hands felt clammy. He took a long last drag on the cigarette, tossed it on the sidewalk, glanced at George, then stared again at the open door. He tried to swallow the dryness in his mouth. When that didn’t work he turned and strode away.

George called his name and jogged after him. Alex sank down on a bench and put his head in his hands. George stood back for a minute, then approached.

“You okay?”

“All these years I’ve wanted to know. Now I’m not so sure. I’d just like to wipe the past away, the known and the unknown.”

“Somebody once said there is no future without a past.”

Alex looked up. “Yeah? Wonder what kind of past he had?”

George sat down. “You really want to walk away now when you’re so close to the truth? At least maybe some of it?”

Alex sat silent for a time, then sighed. “Okay. Let’s go.”

George stayed by his side as they strode through the door of Adams, Ferrington Lithgow and Bolt.

* * *

The receptionist waved them past with a smile as George led Alex toward a door marked with a nameplate engraved in gold: G.A. Bronsky, Attorney at Law. As the door swung open a young woman stood up.

Alex stared. She wasn’t what he’d call beautiful, but there was something about her that captivated him instantly. She was dressed in a trim beige business suit, expensive and tailored to fit. The collar of a light blue silk blouse made a smooth line along her neck. It matched eyes that stared steadily into his. He blinked when he realized she was standing in front of him, her hand extended.

George completed the introduction. “Alex, this is Kenni—uh, Kendra Adams. Kenni, Alex Donnelly.”

Alex put his hand in hers.

“Everyone calls me Kenni, Alex. It’s good to meet you at last.”

Alex wished he’d taken George’s advice about the haircut as he watched Kenni return to her chair. George moved quickly behind the desk and waved at another chair angled beside it. Alex settled himself in it, noticing an open file on the desk. George flipped it closed.

Tucking a long strand of honey-colored hair behind her ear Kenni smiled. “How was your flight?”

“Okay,” Alex said.

“And the room? It was comfortable, I hope?”

He nodded. “Fine.” Dolt, make an attempt. He added a quick “Thanks.”

Kenni flashed a glance at George. “I know you’re probably anxious to know about the inheritance, Alex, but we do have to confirm that you’re the Alex Donnelly we’re looking for. I’m quite sure you are, but we’ll have to verify it.”

“How?” Monosyllabic moron.

“I’m going to ask you to go to a local police station.”

Alex gripped the arms of the chair.

“They’ll take a print of your foot,” Kenni continued.

“My foot?” Alex knew he was doing a bad job of hiding his tension.

Kenni’s smile beamed again. “Yes, I’m afraid so. The only positive identification we have is the footprint of baby Alex. If you and he are one and the same, your footprint will match. It will take a few days for the experts to tell us.”

Alex slumped. “I thought it would be today, this morning.”

“I’m sorry, no. Since it’s Friday we probably won’t get the results until Wednesday or Thursday of next week at the earliest. We have to be certain. I’m sure you can understand.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. I guess. So where’s this police station?”

“George will take you there. It’s not far.”

Alex glanced at the file. He turned to Kenni and pointed with his chin. “Does that belong to me?”

Kenni’s eyes flicked to the file for a second, then back to him. “Well, not exactly. It’s the information I collected as we tried to find you.”

“My profile.” His eyes flicked to George, then back to Kenni.

Her eyebrows arched slightly. “Yes. Your profile, and other information. Once we determine that you’re the right person you’ll have access to all of it, if you want to read it.”

Alex nodded and turned to George. “Let’s go, then. The quicker we get this over with, the better.”

George stood. “Okay.” He nodded to the woman. “Thanks, Kenni.”

As she stood the smile she gave George was warm. “See you tomorrow?”

George nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Kenni extended her hand toward Alex again. “It really is good to meet you, Alex.”

As he took her hand in his again he felt like she could see right through him. But how could a woman like her know how someone like me would feel? When their hands lingered he thought she turned a very slight shade of pink. He dropped his eyes.

“Yeah. Uh, thanks,” he mumbled and followed George from the room.

In the elevator Alex turned to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?”

“That Kenni Adams was a woman.”

“Oh.” George shrugged. “Guess I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Relevant? How could a woman like that not be relevant?”

The lawyer smacked the Main button on the wall of the elevator. “She’s my boss’ daughter. Not to mention about fifteen years younger than me. I don’t think of her that way.”

“Right. So what’s going on tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. She said, ‘See you tomorrow.’ So what’s that about, you work Saturdays?”

“Sometimes. But this is a social thing.” George looked sideways at him.

Alex smirked. “Yeah, right.”

* * *

Kenni opened the file and noted the date of the meeting. Her hand shook a little as she jotted down a few words. She stared at what she’d written, then at the chair where Alex sat. She’d tried to prepare herself for meeting him, for the way it might stir up old memories, old scars. But she was not prepared for the way the strength of his features seared her mind. The line of his jaw, the wide shoulders that seemed tight with tension. The strong hands. And his eyes. She turned her head away, but the haunted look she’d seen there stayed with her. She knew that look well. She’d seen it often, in a small chipped mirror on the wall in a dingy bedroom.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “Help.”

* * *

The time at the police station took only about an hour, but it felt like ten. Alex forced himself to make eye contact with the officer who took the print of his foot. But he couldn’t make himself relax. If there had been any communication between the Vancouver police and the Seattle police five years ago, he’d know it pretty quick. He’d know it by the handcuffs they’d slap on him before he could get out the door. He came close to bolting a couple of times. His shoulders dropped with relief when the officer finally told him he could leave.

George had work to catch up on at the office so Alex spent the day wandering the city alone. A fine drizzle painted the concrete streets gray and Alex’s mood gloomy. He shivered more than once, reminding himself how much he hated the dampness. He walked for hours, wondering if maybe his parents had strolled these same streets years before. For what must’ve been the millionth time he tried to visualize what they might’ve looked like. He stared at his reflection in a shop window and imagined that his father would’ve been a lot like himself—broad in the shoulder, dark haired, a bit stocky, gray eyes. But his mother...he’d never been able to picture his mother. He had only a vague memory of her voice and long soft hair. Black hair, like his. Or was that the woman who had adopted him? Alex couldn’t really be sure.

It was well past dark when he got back to the hotel. There was a note for him at the desk:

Alex,

Babysitting’s over. I’ve gone home for the night. Will call in the morning.

George.

He tossed the note into a garbage can as he headed for the bar. He ordered a steak, chased it with a beer, and followed that one with several more. The familiar numbness was well entrenched by the time he made his way back to his room and fell into a restless sleep.