The Spiral Path (58 page)

He tried not to think of the passion he
and Rainey had shared beside the labyrinth. That was another issue, one he
couldn't deal with. But the labyrinth itself called to him.

Why not build one here? The work would
keep him busy for a few weeks, and when it was done, walking the mystical path
might calm his wounded soul.

A jangling sound heralded the appearance
of a dog. It was Hambone, the Gradys' friendly mutt, tongue lolling. Kenzie
rubbed the dog's head and ears, grateful for a companion whose needs were so
easily satisfied. As he resumed his descent of the hill, Hambone trotted
amiably by his side.

He'd get a dog of his own. A hermit
needed a dog.

CHAPTER 34

Y
awning,
Val made her way down the narrow staircase of the bed-and-breakfast
where she and Laurie, her travel partner, had spent the night. She'd seen
enough of Ireland to realize that yes, indeed, the Emerald Isle was green, and
the musical accents made her want to whimper with pleasure. Laurie was sleeping
late, but Val was up early and raring to start acting like a tourist.

"And how are you this fine mornin',
Miss Covington?" Mrs. O'Brien, the landlady, asked cheerfully as Val
entered the breakfast parlor. "Will you be having a wee pot of tea with
your breakfast?"

"That would be heavenly." Mrs.
O'Brien returned to her kitchen to fix Val's breakfast and brew the tea. Alone
in the breakfast parlor, Val picked up the newspapers set on the sideboard and
settled down to read.

Most of the headlines were routine,
until she found the London tabloid underneath the sober Dublin paper. A huge
picture of Kenzie and Rainey dominated the front page of the
Inquirer
with
the headline, "Kenzie Scott: A Gay Blade?"

Dismayed, she skimmed the first
paragraphs of the story, then returned to the photo to study it more carefully.
Kenzie looked frozen with shock, as well he might. Rainey radiated surprise and
fury.

So Nigel Stone had hit the grand
crescendo he'd been building toward for weeks. Val's lawyer instinct made her
want to dive into the fray. She'd become rather fond of Kenzie, and it went
without saying that this kind of scandal would hurt Rainey deeply.

From habit, she paused to consider
whether Stone might be telling the truth when he claimed that Kenzie was gay.
Nope, she still didn't believe it. She was good at picking up male vibes.

What about bisexuality? Possible, but
that didn't feel right, either. She hadn't sensed any interest on Kenzie's part
when he was around men, even though the movie crew had included a couple of
good-looking gay guys. She'd stake her right to practice law that Kenzie was
exactly what he seemed--an unconflicted heterosexual male.

The next page detailed Stone's evidence.
He had a birth certificate for one James Mackenzie, allegedly Kenzie's real
name. That meant nothing in itself, unless he could prove in some other way
that Kenzie Scott and James Mackenzie were the same person.

Nigel also claimed to have spoken to men
who swore they'd paid to have sex with Jamie Mackenzie. Again, that meant
nothing unless they were willing to go on the record under their own names.
Which they probably wouldn't, since few men would want to admit publicly that
they'd solicited sex with a minor.

She swore when she read the next
paragraph. Stone claimed to have a child pornography video that Kenzie had
made. A carefully cropped image showed a desolate-looking child. She
scrutinized the blurry photo. There was a general resemblance to Kenzie, but
the features weren't quite right. It was like the best of the photos sent in by
readers responding to the
Inquirer's
call for information--close but no
cigar. If this was Nigel's best evidence, he was on thin ice.

Mrs. O'Brien returned with a tray that
held a pot of steaming tea and a plate piled with bacon, sausages, eggs, and a
grilled tomato. Val's appetite had diminished sharply, but she managed to eat
about half the food. She was going to need her strength.

When she finished her meal, she
retreated to her room and dug out her cell phone. It wasn't yet midnight in
California, so who should she call first? Emmy Herman would be the most tactful
choice, and she'd probably know exactly what was going on, but pregnant women
needed their rest. She'd have to call Rainey directly.

Though Rainey should be home by now, the
call to her private home phone was picked up by an answering machine referring
people to her office number. Val left a message, then tried the Gordons. She'd
become friendly with Naomi and Marcus during filming since she'd been the major
liaison to the producers.

Naomi Gordon picked up the phone.
"Hello."

"Naomi, this is Val Covington.
I'm in Ireland, and I just saw the
Inquirer
. What's going on, and what
can I do to help?"

"Val, I'm so glad to hear from you.
Hang on a second and I'll get Marcus on another extension."

A minute later Marcus said tersely,
"Glad you checked in, Val. Maybe you'll be able to think of something
we've missed."

"All I've seen is Stone's article,
which naturally tells it his way. Can you fill me in on what really
happened?"

"Nigel Stone jumped Kenzie with
this about six steps outside the church where Charles Winfield's memorial
service was held," Naomi said acidly. "The British tabloid reporters
really are worse than the Americans."

"That bastard. Then what?"

Marcus picked up the story. "Rainey
and Kenzie got away ASAP without making any comments. She was still shaking
when she called us and the publicists to let us know what happened. We're doing
our best to kill the story before it turns into a major media feeding frenzy."

"I wish I understood the British
establishment better," Val said with frustration. "I'm good at
digging out facts, and in the States I'm sure I could find some useful
defensive ammunition, but I wouldn't know where to start in London."

"We can hire good researchers,"
Naomi said. "What should they look for?"

Val considered. "For starters, I'd
check out dear Nigel's career in Australia. He worked there for years. See if
he was ever accused of fabricating stories or evidence, or if he was ever sued
for libel. Even if he won a suit, several incidents like that would really
undermine his credibility."

"Good idea. I hadn't thought of
investigating his Australian past, but I've got contacts in Sydney,"
Marcus said. "I'll get right on it."

"Have you seen any stills taken
from the porn movie that allegedly shows Kenzie as a boy?" Naomi asked.
"We haven't seen anything from that yet."

"The paper I just looked at had a
still, and I don't think the boy is Kenzie. Right coloring and eyes, wrong
chin, wrong cheekbones. It must be some other poor kid."

"So Stone hasn't got much. The
problem is that this kind of thing can be hard to disprove unless we can
clearly place Kenzie elsewhere at the same time he was supposed to be selling
himself in London," Marcus said soberly. "Maybe Kenzie will finally
talk about his early life to prove he couldn't be this kid hustler."

"Then again, he might say that
he'll be damned if he'll be coerced into giving up the privacy he's protected
so long," Naomi said dryly. "Underneath those lovely English manners,
he can be pretty stubborn. Why should he have to talk about his private life,
now or ever?"

Val frowned as she thought about early
lives. "Get someone to look through a bunch of London school yearbooks
from the right time and pick out half a dozen boys who looked like Kenzie. Then
track them down and persuade them to appear at a press conference. Kick off the
conference by showing a picture of the first man and announce, 'This is James
Mackenzie.'

"Then bring out the man whose photo
it is. Ideally, he'll now be short, fat, and balding. Then you say, 'Actually,
this is Reggie Smothers of Croyden, but didn't he look a lot like James
Mackenzie?' After the reporters get through laughing, repeat that several
times. By the time you're done, you'll have demonstrated there's no connection
between the birth certificate, a fuzzy picture of a pre-adolescent, and Kenzie
Scott."

Naomi chuckled. "Val, Val, are you
sure you don't want to work for us? That's brilliant. If you don't want to do
law or production, we'll put you in publicity."

"No, thanks. I actually rather like
the law. I just need to find the right place to practice it." Val frowned.
"I'd also make sure the reporters realized that whoever the boy was, he
was so young then that he qualifies as a victim, not a callous hustler."