AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m Brad,” he said.
“Lindsay Boxer,” I said.
“Good to finally meet you, Lindsay.”
Mitcham’s office was lined with bookshelves and had a seating area with a wonderful city view. I sat down on the sofa, and the lawyer took a chair with a coffee table between us. I couldn’t wait another minute before telling him why I was there.
“Finding my father’s killer is my number one priority,” I told him. “My father and I hadn’t spoken in years. Not since he ran off to Mexico close to a decade ago. I was under the impression that he died several years back. So I know very little about his recent life. I’m hoping you have some ideas about who may have benefited from his death.”
Brad Mitcham went over to his desk, picked up a folder and a small box, and brought them back to his chair in the seating area. He sat down, and of course I tried to gauge his expression, his posture, and the items he’d set down on the table. All I picked up was that he had something big to tell me.
Mitcham cleared his throat.
“Lindsay, I have good news and bad. Which do you want first?”
The optimism I’d drawn from the rising numbers above the elevator doors begin to drop. I clenched my hands together and looked at my lap. I wanted a shot of good news on the rocks, but what I said was, “Hit me with the bad news.”
Brad said, “Bad news first?”
I nodded my head.
Brad cleared his throat and said, “Martin Boxer was not your biological father.”
CHAPTER 17
HAD BRAD MITCHAM just told me that Marty wasn’t my father? How could this be true?
Images of our home in Berkeley flashed like an old video montage.Daddy’s home.Tom Brokaw on the news. Dad cooking hot dogs on the grill. Mom in her bathrobe chanting, “Where is Daddy?” Cat and I replying in unison, “Out of town.”
I said, “You’re absolutely sure?”
“You never suspected?” he asked.
“No. Not a clue. Is that the bad news?”
“Isn’t it?” said Brad Mitcham.
I wasn’t sure of that. I’d been told as a young girl that I had Marty’s eyes, but the idea that I wasn’t the child of a dirty cop, a neglectful father, and a despicable husband gave me a jolt. Something like a zap of adrenaline. Not good or bad, just electric. But was it true?
I said, “How do you know?”
“I have papers including your birth certificate. Marty told me that you didn’t know that your mother was pregnant when they got married. He wasn’t the father, though he agreed to put his name on your birth certificate. And I have a letter for you written by your mother, given to Marty while she was ill. Marty only gave it to me recently.”
“You’ve read the letter?”
“No. But Marty thought he knew the salient points.”
I scoffed.
Brad said, “Lindsay, I’ve spent many hours with Marty. He told me the whole story.” He shook his head. “Anyway. He’s too smart to lie to his lawyer.”
I was still rocked. Not entirely getting it, but I was trying to take it in.
I said, “And what about my sister? What about Catherine?”
“Martin and Helen Boxer are Catherine’s biological parents.”
My mind was seeking balance and some things were making sense. This blast from the past was confirming my long-held feelings that Marty hadn’t loved me.
