The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [96]
“Still, he hired a lawyer to find you,” Kimberly said mildly.
Rainie scowled at her. “Two,” she continued. “Ronnie claims to be looking for an heir to his estate, but it’s not like he did anything to earn the estate. His father had a hundred-acre farm in Beaverton. Ronnie didn’t help on the farm. He drank, gutted, then went to jail. His father worked the farm. His father built the farm. And when the real estate boom hit Beaverton in the early nineties, his father sold the farm to a real estate developer for ten million dollars. Praise be to Grandpa Dawson. Ronnie still sucks.”
Kimberly smiled sweetly. “As they say, you can’t choose your family.”
“To hell with Tristan Shandling,” Rainie said seriously. “Keep talking, girl, and I will kill you myself.”
“Come on, Rainie. This is exciting news. Your mother is gone. You don’t have any aunts, uncles, brothers, or sisters. But think about it. You might have a dad! A real, live, anxious-to-meet-you dad!”
“There’s no proof he’s my father,” Rainie snapped. “So he slept with my mother thirty-two years ago. Who didn’t?”
“But you’ll take the blood test, right?”
“I don’t know.”
“Rainie . . .”
“I don’t know!” Rainie threw her hands in the air. “You want to know the truth? I don’t like it. I just plain don’t like it.”
“Because he’s a convict.”
“Of course he’s a convict. My mother didn’t hang out with aspiring astrophysicists. Hell, I’m not surprised my potential sire was in jail. I’m just shocked he was ever paroled.”
Kimberly frowned. “So . . . it’s the money you don’t like? Becoming an heiress to ten million dollars? You’re right, that’s tough.”
“Kimberly, think about it for a moment. What do all children who don’t have parents do? They dream about their missing parents, right? They make up exotic stories. ‘My mommy and daddy are secretly eastern European royalty, forced into hiding to flee the communists. When it’s safe, they’ll come back for me.’ Or, ‘my father was a Nobel prize-winning scientist, killed by evil government agents who wanted to halt his impending discovery of world peace.’ Kids create fables, caricatures of real life. No one’s absent father is ever a thug, or drunken white trash who simply didn’t want to own up to his responsibility. He’s always handsome, dashing, and frankly, rich.”
It took Kimberly a moment, then she got it. “You think this is all fake. It’s too good to be true.”
Rainie finally grew still. She looked at Kimberly and demanded bluntly, “What does Tristan Shandling do? He identifies who the victim wants more than anything in the world. And then he becomes that person. I’ve been without a family for fifteen years, Kimberly. As you said, no aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters. There’s a loneliness in that I don’t think other people can understand.”
“Rainie, you don’t know that it’s a ruse.”
“Think about the timing.”
“Just because you don’t like coincidences, doesn’t mean they don’t happen.”
“And just because it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, doesn’t mean it isn’t Tristan Shandling in disguise.” Rainie plopped down on the sofa, then hit a cushion. Hard.
“You’re scared,” Kimberly said softly.
“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“I’m not trying to. It’s just . . . You’re scared.”
“I was so sure he’d go with law enforcement,” Rainie murmured. “Or maybe a fellow PI. Even knowing how he works, I didn’t see this coming. God, he’s good. I’m sitting here now, and half of me is warning, Don’t fall for it, you’re too smart for this. And the other half of me . . . Christ, the other half of me is already picking out Father’s Day cards.”
Kimberly took a seat next to her on the sofa. Her long blond hair was pulled back from her face in a rubber band. She’d slept through the long plane ride and she looked better than she had in days. Rested. More composed. It was interesting to Rainie that as their situation grew more dire, Kimberly seemed