Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [49]
She thought back to his earlier words, when he'd told her how he'd waited on this bluff for the search-and-rescue team to bring up the mangled car and, he'd hoped, to bring back his father, still alive, still in his life. How scared and lonely Alex must have felt. She wondered why his mother had brought him here. Why hadn't he been kept protected at home, surrounded by other loving relatives?
"This is where it happened," Alex said finally, his voice deep and husky, filled with emotion.
She glanced at his hard profile. His gaze was on the beach below, his thoughts obviously in the past. She remained silent, willing him to share whatever he needed to get out. Alex wasn't a man to confide his personal problems. She sensed that he carried most burdens alone, especially the heavy ones, the ones that touched his heart. The fact that he'd even brought her here told her that his defenses were weakening, that his need to find the truth about his father's death was overshadowing his need to stand solitary and strong.
"This is where my dad's car went over," he continued. "All these years I thought it was an accident. He was driving too fast. He liked speed. He always had. The roads were slick. It was raining, and he couldn't see. There were so many plausible reasons why he went over the side of this cliff."
"Those reasons could be true," she offered tentatively. "We don't know for sure that they're not."
"I know. I can feel the truth in my gut."
She didn't know what to say. No words could take away the pain he was feeling, especially now that he thought he was responsible for what had happened. He'd taken that photograph. With that one reckless, impulsive act, he'd put something in motion, something neither of them understood.
"Why were you so damn important?" he muttered, shooting a frustrated glance in her direction.
"I don't know. I wish I did."
"We have to find out."
"We will," she said with determination. Her doubts about her mother and her own past were bigger now, but her resolve was also stronger. She would know the truth, whatever it took. Which brought her back to her own part of the story. "Do you really believe you saw my mother in that square? And don't answer quickly," she added, putting up her hand. "Think about it. Because it's important that you get it right."
He turned to gaze at her, his face a mix of shadow and light. "I'm good with faces, Julia. I know that's not what you want to hear."
"How could my mother have been in Moscow that day?" The thought was inconceivable.
"It makes some sense-if she was friends with my father."
Julia considered that for a few moments. She didn't want to believe Alex was right. She preferred to think he was mistaken. He'd only glanced at the photograph of her mother and herself. And her mother was so average in looks-brown hair, brown eyes. There was nothing spectacular about her. She could have resembled a thousand women. But Julia was afraid to take the rationalization too far. If she was going to try to deny everything they discovered, she'd never get anywhere. So she forced herself to open her mind.
"Let's say she was there," Julia said aloud. "Maybe I was there, too. Maybe my mother put me in that orphanage while she was meeting with- your father. She might have thought of it as a day-care center, a temporary babysitter."
"I suppose," he said slowly, but she could tell he wasn't buying her theory.
"It is possible," she persisted. "At least give me that."
"You couldn't have just been there on vacation, Julia. It wasn't easy to visit Russia at that time. Your mother would have had to have a good reason."
"What about that theater group? My mom and I could have been part of the group, too. We should look into that." The more she thought about it, the more that seemed like a possibility.
"Don't you think you would have remembered a trip like that?" he asked.
"I don't remember anything," she said in frustration. "The years before my mother's wedding to Gino are a complete blank. So why would I remember that?"
"Sorry." He paused. "It