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"It was last Wednesday, the day before Mom was shot. I know you must have heard about that."
"What did Vicky do? Did she confront your mother?"
"No. She claims she saw Mom with some other guy, not you, and she just left the city and went home. She felt stupid for thinking you and Mom were having some secret affair."
"Vicky knew she was alive? She thought we were having an affair?" he asked in bemusement.
"Yes. She saw Mom on the news, saving a man's life. I'm assuming you did, too?"
"I couldn't believe my eyes," he said, his gaze distracted, as if he were reliving that moment. "I was working late in my office, and I had the TV on. I was waiting to hear the sports scores, and there was a news clip about Miguel Rodriguez having a heart attack, and there she was. I thought I was dreaming. I watched that clip a thousand times. I had to find out for sure. So instead of going to Portland for business, I came to San Francisco."
"When did you get here?"
"Tuesday night. I went to her school on Wednesday and caught her when she was going to lunch. She was smiling, laughing with someone, and then she turned around and saw me, and her smile vanished. I thought she might run away. But she didn't. She walked over to me and told me to meet her at a coffee place nearby. Then she got in her car and drove away. I ran to my rental car, thinking I was going to lose her again. But she went where she said she was going to go. We sat down at an outside table and stared at each other. I didn't know what to say."
"What did she say?" I prodded as he once again got lost in his thoughts.
"She told me she was sorry, that she did it to protect me and you and Dani. She'd gotten into some trouble that she couldn't get out of unless she faked her death. She wouldn't give me any details."
"And she couldn't at any point in the last twenty years tell us the truth?"
"I asked her the same thing. She said it wasn't safe. That she knew I'd do a good job raising you and your sister, and it was the only comfort she allowed herself."
"The only comfort?" I questioned. "She made another life for herself, one with friends, coworkers, a job, a house. It's not like she's been in jail all this time. She's been living life."
"I know. It's unthinkable. It's unforgivable. I told her that she'd betrayed me. That I hated her. She leaned in and said she was sorry again, and I saw red. I slapped her. I'd never ever hit a woman before. I was stunned. A couple at the next table came over to ask if she was all right. They said they were calling the police. She told them not to, and then she got up and walked away. I went in the other direction. I didn't want those people to think I was following her." He took a ragged breath. "I shouldn't have hit her, but I never felt so angry in my life. I couldn't see straight. I got drunk that night and slept most of the next day. Then I heard there had been a shooting and I saw her picture on the news again."
"I thought I saw you at her school on Friday."
"I went there to see if I could get any information on the shooting. I didn't want to go into the office or anything official, so I asked some of the teachers, pretending to be a concerned friend. They told me she was in a coma." He shook his head. "I went to the nearest bar and started drinking again. I haven't been back to my hotel in two days. Every time I tried to sober up, I couldn't stand the pain. I got your messages, but I couldn't handle talking to you or anyone. I didn't know what I would say."
"What you just said," I told him. "We've been worried about you, Dad. The police found your hotel room. They've been waiting for you to come back."
"The police? Why? Shit! Did someone report the fight we had?"
"I don't think so, but when I told the inspector that Mom had run away from her life and now you were nowhere to be found, they came up with the idea that she'd left you because you were violent and, perhaps, you'd found her again."
His face paled. "All I did was slap her, Brynn. I swear that's all I did. It was wrong. I feel sick about it. I don't hit people. You know that. You know me."
I swallowed a quickly growing knot of emotion. "I thought I knew you, Dad. Although now I wonder if I should be calling you that."
"What are you talking about?" he asked in confusion.
"I'm talking about what you said last night before you fell asleep."
His lips tightened. "I don't remember what I said last night. It's hazy."
A part of me wished I'd forgotten it, too. But I hadn't. "I'm going to tell you what you said, and you're going to give me the truth."
"The truth about what?"
I drew in a breath of courage and then said, "Last night, you told me that Mom left you with two kids who weren't even yours. You wondered how she could do that."
The blood drained from his face. "Brynn," he whispered.
"If Dani and I are not yours, then who is our father?"
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
