Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [41]
"I don't see how she could have," Julia replied. "It was the Cold War. No one was adopting babies from Russia back then." She took the catalogue out of Liz's hand and looked at the photograph once more. "This girl is at least three years old."
"I agree," Liz said. "It's completely impossible that you're that girl."
"And I can't let myself think even for one second that I wasn't Mom's child," Julia continued. "Mom used to say how we had the same nose and the same long legs. I can't bear to think it's not true." She closed the catalogue, wishing she could put away her doubts just as easily.
"It is true," Liz said forcefully. "You're my sister and our mother's daughter. Maybe this girl is your double. They say everyone has one in the world. This is yours. It's just a coincidence."
"I agree, but I have to know for sure. If I can find something to prove I was here in the United States when this photo was taken and that girl was in Moscow, then I'll be able to let it go. Will you help me, Liz?" She saw the conflict run through her sister's eyes.
"I don't know, Julia. I'm afraid." Liz paused for a long second. "Maybe you want to know the truth, but I'm not sure I do. I don't want to lose you."
"That won't happen. We'll always be sisters, no matter what."
"You say that now, but-"
"But what? You can't think that our relationship would ever change. It won't. You have to believe me," she said, determined to convince Liz of that fact.
"I don't know what to believe. I hate that this is happening. It's too much. Mom died just a few months ago. Why can't things be normal for a while?"
Julia had always tried to give Liz what she needed. That was her job as the big sister. And right now her sister needed her to back off from searching for her past. But she couldn't do it. She'd taken care of Liz all her life, and she'd spent the past two years watching over her mother. This time she needed to put herself first.
Liz picked up her sandals and slipped them on. "I'm going for a walk."
"I'll go with you."
"No, I need to think. I'll take my phone. Don't worry about me. You have enough to worry about."
The apartment was quiet after Liz left, too quiet. Julia paced around the room, too restless to return to the computer. Liz, who certainly hadn't wanted to see any resemblance between the girl in the photo and Julia, hadn't been able to look away from the picture. That simple fact made Julia even more determined to find the truth. But she couldn't do it alone. She needed help. And there was only one person she could ask.
"Thanks for coming by," Alex said as he opened the door to Joe Carmichael. Joe was dressed in faded blue jeans and a bright orange T-shirt. A San Francisco Giants cap covered his balding head. bruises the other day. I looked you up on the Internet. I guess you got into some trouble in Colombia."
"The local police didn't care for some of my photographic choices. They threw me in jail for a few hours, and for fun a couple of guys beat the living crap out of me," he replied, leaning back in the chair. He put his feet on the coffee table between them, and added, "It wasn't a day in the park, but I lived."
"It sounds awful." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Why do you do it? After experiences like that, why do you go back for more?"
"I haven't gone back yet."
"But you will."
It wasn't a question but a statement, and he had no choice but to agree. "I will. I like what I do. It's challenging, and I run my own life. As a freelancer, I go where the stories are and sell my photos to the highest bidder."
"Do you ever get tired of the traveling, the conditions that you have to live in?' "Sometimes-when I haven't seen a shower in a few days or had a decent meal. But I've always had itchy feet. I can't stay too long in one place. I get restless." He paused, more than a