The Other Daughter (30 page)

“David warned me.”

“Sure you don't want to wait for the morgue tape?”

“As I've said—”

“Okay, okay, I got it. You're tired of Club Fed and want to go home. Fine. Then here's the drill. You don't have to memorize him or nothing. Just take a glance. Tell us if you think it's him. One look, you're done.”

“Go home and forget all about it?” she murmured, then followed Detective Jax to the body. David rested his hand on the small of her back.

There was no mistaking the dead man. He was faceup on the cracked asphalt. Puffed face gray and rubbery. Bloated hands over his head, picked ragged by feeding fish. Dark suit waterlogged and algae coated. Black holes on his white dress shirt where two bullets had fired home.

No blood this time. The water had washed it away.

“What do you think?” Detective Jax asked.

“That's him.” She kept staring. She couldn't help herself. Dead never looked the way she thought it should. With Digger it had been too bloody. With this man it was too alien. The water had turned him into something resembling a wax doll.

“Looks like he'd been shot twice, close range,” Detective Jax said conversationally. “Probably the day before. It's gonna take a bit to ID him — no papers and not much for fingertips. Guess the fish had a real banquet. We'll send him to the state crime lab for analysis. The water will make it tougher — he's a floater and a bloater — but I've requested Jeffrey Ames for the job. Jeff's the best.”

“I know Jeff,” David spoke up. “He's good.”

“You know Jeff?” Detective Jax switched the toothpick to the left side of his mouth and peered at David curiously.

“I'm a member of the Mass Rifle Association,” David explained. “Jeff shoots there too.”

“You're a member of the MRA? Wait a sec, David Riggs. Are you Bobby Riggs's son?”

David nodded. Detective Jax lit up.

“Holy hell, good to meet you. I love Bobby. Man does beautiful work. Give your father my regards, 'kay? Oh, and tell him I wanna bring in my gun. Damn sight is driving me nuts.”

“I'll tell him. When do you think you'll have the initial report?”

“Forty-eight hours maybe? I'm gonna put a rush on it, but we're a little backed up these days. Spring's rough around here.”

“Do you know who killed him?” Melanie asked quietly. Her stomach was beginning to roll.

“Don't have any witnesses, if that's what you mean. We're still detailing the area, but so far no brass and no traces of blood, so he was probably shot somewhere else. Lab guys may find something on his shoes or clothing that can help us locate the murder site. It's amazing what a couple of good chemists can do these days.”

“What about the notes he took? The papers from Larry Digger's room?”

Detective Jax shook his head. “Nope. My guess is he showed up for contact, delivering the goods and expecting to get paid. But maybe his employer wasn't so happy about the mess he made of things, or the job being only half done. So he closed out the deal with a couple of deliveries of lead. There just ain't no honor among thieves.”

“So we don't really know anything yet,” Melanie murmured. “Sure, this person is dead, but his employer could just hire another, and another, and. . .” Her voice was rising. She was losing it after all.

David and Detective Jax were watching her closely. She took a deep breath, focused on the warm, familiar feel of David's hand against the small of her back. She nodded and everyone relaxed.

“You guys care to start explaining things yet?” Detective Jax asked. “Or should I just wait until the next dead body?”

“I don't know,” David replied. “When are you planning on finding the next dead body?”

“Oh, holy Lord, working with G-men sucks.” Jax spat out his toothpick. “Look, I'm going after this with all I can, Agent Riggs. I don't have the resources of the Bureau or the experts of the Bureau, but what the hell, I like to think us poor local slobs run a pretty good show. Now, do you want to give me any hints, or should I just keep gnawing away at this like a Chihuahua?”

“Larry Digger said he had proof of who my birth parents are,” Melanie offered. “It seems someone doesn't want me to know.”

“Why? Everyone's finding their birth parents these days. It's about as popular as no-fat double lattes with whip.”

“Because maybe my birth father was a serial killer. And maybe it would be embarrassing for my family if it was discovered that they had knowingly adopted the child of such a man.”

Now she had Detective Jax's undivided attention. “Well, shoot me, that would make a difference. So this Larry Digger, he claimed to have proof of where you came from?”

“That's what he said. We never got to see it, but we heard quite a bit of his story.”

“And he alleged your parents
knowingly
adopted you anyway? They got big hearts, or what? I didn't think the Beacon Street type liked to go outside established bloodlines.” Jax gave her a look. “Ms. Stokes, I can dance as well as the next guy, but this tango is ridiculous. If you want me to help, you give it to me clean. I'll see what I can do. Welcome to the Jax School of Justice. 'Kay?”

“Needless to say,” David said smoothly, “it's an ongoing investigation. Listen, Detective, if you want to help, here's what we need the most: Our shooter is dead, but we still don't know who hired him, and since the job wasn't completed the first time, there's a good chance that there'll be a second contract on Melanie's life. If you hear anything—”

“I think I'll let you know.” Jax returned to Melanie, shaking his head. “I'll work on this as hard as I can and you got Mr. Personality here, too, but these things take time. It'll be days before I get the first lab report, and that's assuming the initial chem run yields findings. With bodies that have been in the water, it can take longer than that. I can already tell the bullets are soft lead, so they won't have any striations, which means the lab will have to determine gun type by class, not characteristic. That takes longer as well. Seriously, ma'am, we're looking at weeks before we start getting the first clue, and considering that you're already in danger…”

“He's right,” David said, having found an ally for his case. “I'll take you back to the hotel, Melanie. We'll buy you clothes, come up with a good excuse for your parents. Hell, you can tell them you're off to find yourself. That's true enough. And it would certainly be a lot safer—”

“No.”

“Yes—”

“No! I
know
who I am, David. I'm twenty-nine years old, I have lived the last twenty years in the Stokes household, and
that is where I belong
.”

“Like hell it is. They are going to get you killed—”

“You don't know that! We don't have a shred of evidence, just a bunch of far-fetched theories. I'm not going to walk away because of that. For crying out loud, we are never going to move beyond theory with me shut up in a hotel room anyway. At the very least, you can consider my going home as the most efficient means of moving the investigation forward.”

“I will not risk you for the stupid case—”

“This isn't your choice, David. It's mine, and I'm going home!”

She pivoted, took a step toward the car, but David grabbed her arm.

“Don't you put yourself in the line of fire.”

“They won't hurt me,” she insisted stubbornly. “They won't.”

“You are blind and stubborn and completely ignorant when it comes to your parents. You're so caught up in your romantic notion of what families mean that you're going to get yourself killed!”

“Why, thank you, David. I trust your judgment and intelligence just as much.”

She jerked her arm free and stormed back to the car.

Detective Jax let out a low whistle. “I guess we pissed her off.”

“She doesn't understand.”

“The woman is standing in front of a corpse. I think she understands just fine.”

“No, she doesn't.” David turned on Jax. “You don't get her yet, Detective. She was abandoned and that has skewed her judgment. Her family is perfect. Her family must need her. It's a great dream, an understandable dream. And it's gonna get her killed.”

Detective Jax shrugged. “And if it were your family, Riggs? If it was your father we were talking about? Who would be the naïve romantic then?”

“Oh, shut up,” David said darkly, and stalked after Melanie to the car.

They drove downtown in taut silence, David tapping his fingers crossly on the wheel while Melanie stared resolutely out the window.

“You are a pigheaded fool,” he said finally.

She smiled tightly. “I believe it runs in the family.”

They made it another half-mile, then he exploded again. “Dammit, you can't ignore the fact that someone wants you dead.”

“I'm not ignoring it.”

“You're walking into the proverbial lion's den!”

“No, I'm not! I'm going home, which is my right. I'm going to kiss my mother on the cheek, I'm going to hug my father. I'm going to hunt down my brother for a serious heart-to-heart, and then I'm going to corner my godfather for a nice long chat.”

“Because you believe they'll magically tell you everything?” His voice lowered with scorn. “Whatever happened to Meagan, they've kept it secret for twenty-five years. Now someone has even gone so far as to hire a paid gun. So really, I don't think they're going to simply confess. Not even to their favorite daughter.”

Melanie drew in her breath with a sharp hiss. “They are not evil.”

“Close enough. Dammit, Melanie.” David suddenly slapped the steering wheel. “Are you going to make me say it?”

“Maybe.”

“I'm an agent. It's out of line.”

“Then I'll take it off the record, Mr. Riggs.”

He growled, but she didn't relent. She had not realized how much this mattered to her until right that moment. She was leaning toward him. She was staring at him intently. She'd come to need him even more than she'd realized. She really wanted to know that he cared, as well. That the last few days had not been another illusion.

He spoke in a rush. “I care, dammit! You matter to me, Melanie, more than you're supposed to, and I don't want to see you hurt.”

“I know.”

“I sympathize, all right? They are your family, and while I certainly won't win son of the year award anytime soon, my family is important to me too. If it was my father or brother in question, I don't know that I would handle it any better.”

“I have to trust them, David. They've loved me so well.”

“Of course they've loved you, Mel. You're as close to Meagan Stokes as they're ever going to get.”

Melanie recoiled. She knew he was trying to shock her, and it worked. Her eyes were stinging. She was on the verge of tears.

There wasn't anyone in the world who didn't long to be loved for simply being herself. It wasn't fair of him to state that no matter what she did, she would always be the substitute daughter.

She turned away and looked out the window.

David got off 93, whipped through the financial district, and emerged on Beacon Street. Three blocks from home. He slowed down the car. She groped for her composure. When he finally stopped the car, she still didn't feel ready.

“Be careful,” he said quietly. The scowl had dropped. He looked genuinely worried and that touched her.

“Thank you.” She brushed his hand.

He pulled it back, shaking his head. “I don't want your gratitude. I'm too far over the line to even pretend this is professional courtesy.”

“Yeah, it's part of your charm.”

“I
don't
have any charm. I'm old, arthritic, and cranky. Half the time I have the personality of a porcupine. Don't tell me I have charm.”

“You do, because underneath it all I know there beats a good heart.”

“Female fantasy,” he muttered.

“Truth.”

He looked like he might argue some more, but then he sighed and now he did take her hand with his own. “Melanie, for lots of reasons I think you know, I can't just stop by your house.”

“I expected that.”

“You really will be on your own.”

“I understand that too.”

“And you're scaring the shit out of me.”

“Given.”

“Okay, fine. This is my beeper number.” He scrawled it on a piece of paper. “If you're in trouble, I'll come. Have a bad dream, I'll come. Have a bad memory, I'll come. Just dial the beeper, okay? I'll be there, Melanie. I will.”

She took the piece of paper. “Thank you,” she said, and saw him wince once more at her gratitude. “I need to go now.”

“Mel, wait.”

But Melanie didn't wait. She slipped out of the car. She started walking and didn't look back, not even when the car started up and drove away.

Then she was alone.

The cherry blossoms waved merrily. The scent of hyacinths was spicy and fragrant in the air. A beautiful day in a beautiful city.

Melanie looked up at the three-story brick house that was her home. She saw the solid walnut doors, the heavy iron gate. She saw the bay windows of her bedroom.

And for just a moment she shivered with fear.

Then she opened the door and stepped inside.

MARÍA, THE MAID, greeted her with a friendly nod. She looked at Melanie's wrinkled clothes and disheveled hair but took them in stride. Her parents and Señor O'Donnell were on the back patio eating lunch. Would she like anything?

Melanie shook her head and headed for the patio.

Jamie came walking through the back door. He halted at the sight of her, his face registering surprise.

“Melanie?” her godfather said hesitantly, holding out his arms as he always did but clearly uncertain.

She went into the hug, realizing she needed the contact more than she'd thought. Before she was ready, he pulled back and held her firmly at arm's length.

“What's up, lass? I hear you've been gone for two days without so much as a by-your-leave. Why are you worrying your mother like this? It's not like you.”

Melanie didn't answer immediately. Confronted by her first family member, she discovered she wasn't sure what she wanted to say. Or maybe she wasn't sure what she wanted to hear. David was right. This was more difficult than she'd thought. Her first question caught even her by surprise.