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“Sweetheart.” Dale wiped my tears. “I love you. I’m here for you, no matter what. It’s me. Dale.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I just…”He sighed. “I should probably just shut up.”
“No, say it.”
“It just seems like a pretty weird coincidence that he happened to be in New York, saw your name in the paper, wondered if you might be the same Sara Wilson and decided to try to find you. And how did he find you, considering we had a whole city full of reporters who were trying and they failed?”
“You know, I told you.” I sighed. “He said he tried finding me but I wasn’t listed. So he looked up you—and found out John taught at Rutgers. He said after that it was easy because so much of John’s information was public. He called up USC in California where he worked before you moved here. He talked to some professor… Lane Murdoch?”
“Yeah he and my dad were friends.”
“So when he called Rutgers looking for John, he found out about faculty housing and knew that was a dead end. He tried calling the university and asking for John. He got John’s assistant, Carol.”
“And then?”
“Then he pretended to be this Lane Murdoch fellow, said he would be in NY on a layover for just a few hours and wanted to see him. Could he possibly have his home number?”
“And she gave it to him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know!” I exclaimed. “He said… he said he charmed her into it.”
“Exactly,” Dale replied. “And what did he say when you first talked to him on the phone? Who did he tell your dad he was?”
I hesitated. “Dave… from the print shop.”
“But how did he know you worked there?”
“I don’t know.”
“I just don’t like it.” Dale said. “It feels wrong to me.”
“Everything involving me and another man feels wrong to you,” I snapped.
“I’m just trying to be rational,” he said softly.
“Fine, why don’t I just tell him up front I’m going to require a blood sample, so we can do some DNA testing?” I rolled my eyes.
“Those take weeks. By the time we had the results, if he is what I think he is, he’ll be long gone.”
“You’re impossible.” I felt the corners of my mouth twitching, ready to smile.
“And you’re incredibly sweet and trusting and I love you.” He leaned over and kissed me. “But maybe you should ask for that blood test.”
“Dale!” I punched his shoulder.
“Damn, remind me not to get in the ring with you.”
“Oh my God that’s him.” My mouth went instantly dry. I couldn’t even swallow. He was tall and lean, wearing khakis and a button-down light blue chambray shirt, just like he said he would be. He had short, sandy blond hair, not quite a military cut but close. I searched his face for any resemblance as he scanned the room, hesitating in the doorway.
His gaze skipped over me to Dale and then back to me. Our eyes met and he smiled, lifting his hand in a wave. I waved back, hoping I didn’t look overeager. I felt overeager and had for weeks. I’d been ready to get in my car and drive to LaGuardia, where he first called me from. He was heading back to Florida—he’d only been in New York for a few days on business, he said. But he promised he would be back in a month.
And here he was, keeping that promise.
