The Stolen - Jason Pinter [50]
the eye. Amanda seemed taken aback, then she took a
breath and calmed down.
"Guess I should have expected that."
"I'm sorry, I--"
"Don't be sorry. I want to respect you. If you pulled
punches, I wouldn't."
"Sometimes I hit harder than I need to. Against people
who don't deserve it."
"Yeah..." she said, eyeing me warily. "I think it's time
for me to head home."
"You're sure?" I said. "You want to grab dinner or
something?"
Amanda looked at me, sadness in her eyes. "Henry,
this is what it is. I'll help you all you need. I want to
know everything about Danny and Michelle, too. But
this is what we are, now, you and me. And this is a
choice you made."
"What was your choice?" I asked.
She looked at me, her cheeks flushing red, anger in
her eyes. "I didn't have one," she said. "You made my
choice for me."
"I know. And I'm sorry I did that. I wish I could take it
back. More than anything."
Amanda took a step closer, her eyes locked on to mine.
For a moment I felt embarrassed, wanted to step back.
"Two years ago," Amanda said, "you came clean about
who you were. I had a choice. I could have left you on
the side of the road for the assholes who wanted you
dead. Or I could help you. I made my choice. And here
we are. I didn't leave you then, and I wouldn't have left
you ever. You decided to make my choice for me. And
since you did that, I'm not going to put myself in another
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situation where someone can dictate my future without my
say-so. It's my life, Henry, and if you don't like what I do
with it, you should have never gotten into my car in the
first place."
I finally stepped back, felt like I'd been slapped across
the face. Though I had no one to blame but myself. "So
what are we, then?" I asked.
Amanda walked forward until I could smell the light
perfume that she must have put on before work. Because
she sure didn't wear it for me.
"We're friends," she said. "Good friends. I'll help you
however I can with this. But just with this. That's my choice.
So either you can deal with it or you can't, but if you can't,
say something now. Otherwise don't waste my time."
"I have nothing to say. I appreciate it. So will Danny
Linwood."
I sat back down. Took out the papers Amanda had given
me regarding Michelle Oliveira's disappearance. I began
to go through them again. Amanda stood there in the hall
for a moment, then came and sat down next to me. She
looked over my shoulder.
"Do you mind?" she asked. She didn't quite phrase it
as a question. She knew there wasn't a chance in hell of
me minding. I smiled. Told her I didn't.
Then I noticed something on Michelle's medical
reports. She used a pediatrician in Hobbs County for
several years before moving to Meriden. I looked at the
name on the birth certificate, the signature of the man who
delivered Michelle Oliveira.
"What is it?" Amanda asked.
"Michelle Oliveira was born at the Yardley Medical
Center in Hobbs County," I said.
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"And?"
"The doctor on this birth certificate is named Dmitri
Petrovsky," I said. "The same Dmitri Petrovsky who treats
Danny Linwood."
17
The girl sat on the couch, listening to the two grown-ups
speak as if she wasn't even there.
"I heard her coughing last night," Elaine Reed said. It
was cold inside the house. The girl watched with curiosity
as Elaine held a cup of tea to her cheek. She'd heard
Elaine's husband, Bob, say something about not being
able to work the fireplace. Bob talked loud sometimes, and
used words that Elaine got mad at him for.
Elaine was a pretty woman, only a little younger than
her own mom. She had bright red hair and always wore
pretty blue jewelry. When the other day the girl asked
what kind it was, Elaine told her that her own daddy had
brought it back from Greece. She said the rocks there were
as blue as the sea itself.
Bob was shorter, with thinning dark hair and a beard that
circled only his upper lip and chin. He wore glasses and
didn't say much and spent most of the day reading