Stranger on the Shore - lanyon Josh. Страница 41

“Does ‘not affluent’ mean poor?”

“In this case, yes.”

“Okay, I’ll use tomorrow to see what I can find out about Alvin.”

“If we have a better idea of who we’re dealing with, we can figure out our next move.”

Our? But Pierce was right. At least for now they were allies.

Allies and...? Not friends. Friends did not hire private eyes to investigate each other, but there was no question he still found Pierce sexy. Sexy and interesting. Very. Also alien. But maybe that was part of what made Pierce so interesting. There was nobody like Pierce in Janesville.

“All right then.” Pierce slid a business card across the table. “This is all my contact info. If you can’t get through on my cell, try one of these other numbers.”

Griff glanced at the card. Phone numbers, email, even snail mail. Lots of ways to get hold of Pierce if he needed to. Practically an invitation, in fact.

He looked up. Pierce was watching him. Griff remembered what Diana had said about having to make the next move. Because Pierce had trust issues. And according to Levi, Griff had intimacy issues. But that was all moot anyway because in a few days he’d be back home and in all likelihood he’d never see or hear from Pierce again.

Pierce smiled. It was that assured, consciously charming smile of his. He still held Griff’s gaze, still looked at him as though waiting for Griff to say something. Pierce was being about as subtle as an elbow in the ribs, although he seemed touchingly oblivious of the fact. Maybe he didn’t technically make the second moves, but it looked to Griff like Pierce didn’t hesitate to orchestrate a repeat performance if he was interested.

And, to be honest, Griff was tempted to take that prompt. But Pierce had been kind of a jerk in bed and he had been kind of a jerk out of bed, so further exposure to Pierce was probably a bad idea. Things were complicated enough. Plus Pierce probably viewed their previous night together as slumming.

“Thanks,” Griff said. “I will.”

Pierce looked disappointed. At least Griff thought so, but the next instant Pierce was on his feet, slipping on his beautifully tailored suit jacket. He picked up his trench coat—also beautifully tailored—and headed for the door of the cottage.

“Watch your back tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s make sure to stay in communication.”

On the front stoop he hesitated again. It was starting to rain once more. He smiled at Griff, still charming but with a lot less certainty this time.

Screw it. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Pierce. Griff almost reached out. But maybe he was misreading this entirely, and it would be embarrassing—not to mention painful—to be wrong.

“Good night then,” said Pierce.

Too late. Too late now. Griff said, “Good night.”

Pierce turned and walked briskly across the bridge. Rain pattered on the grass and flowers. The solid thump of his footsteps melted away into the shadows.

Chapter Nineteen

Griff slowly closed the door.

As he returned to the kitchen table and his laptop he was digesting Pierce’s advice to “watch his back.” Fraud and Criminal Impersonation were nonviolent crimes, but there was a lot of money at stake. A fortune. By timing his return when he had, “Brian” was set to inherit at the very least a quarter of the entire Arlington estate. Pierce had a point. They needed to proceed with caution.

There was a hard knock on the cottage entrance.

Griff’s heart jumped. He sprang to answer the door.

To his disappointment Michaela, wearing jeans and a rain-darkened hoodie, stood on the stoop. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” Griff stepped back, gesturing for her to enter, and Michaela stepped through the door.

“I take it my daughter is not here?”

“Huh? No.”

“I didn’t think so. I just passed Pierce on his way up to the house.”

That must have given Pierce an awkward moment. Griff said, “He dropped by for dinner.”

Michaela’s dark brows shot up. “Really? I have to say, I didn’t see that coming.” She moved past him, surveying the cottage living room. “This is so strange. I haven’t been here in years.” She gave a brittle laugh. “Chloe was conceived on that sofa.”

Griff glanced automatically and uneasily at the sofa. He remembered Gemma’s journal was still concealed beneath the faded silk cushions. Along with another guilty secret or two.

Michaela circled the room, lifting up various objects. Was she making sure he hadn’t stuck any cloisonne vases in his suitcase before she delivered the bad news that he was being kicked out?

She murmured, “So you’re...? You and Pierce are...?”

Where did people get the idea they had the right to ask that question? How was it ever anyone else’s business? Or at least anyone who wasn’t hoping to sleep with you themselves.

“It was just dinner. It was kind of a weird day for both of us.”

At that she turned, fists jammed in her leather jacket. She studied Griff. “But an exciting day, right?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“It did seem to knock you off your feet for a minute.” Michaela’s gaze was curious.

“Low blood sugar,” Griff said. “But yeah, certainly not something I saw coming.”

“None of us did. He just showed up this morning. Right before lunch. No warning. Nothing. Just boom. I’m here. I was afraid Daddy was going to have a stroke.”

“Johnson always swore he didn’t take Brian.”

“Odell.” She seemed to be looking inward. “Yes. He always swore he was innocent. I didn’t believe him. No one did.” Her expression tightened. “Pierce should be concentrating on getting Odell out of prison, not trying to prove Brian is a fake.”

“You believe him then? Brian?”

She looked startled. “Of course I believe him. Who would make up a lame story like that? Of course it’s true. Of course he’s Brian. You only have to look at him to see it. He looks exactly like Marcus did at his age. Like Matthew. Like all the Arlingtons. He could have sat for any of the portraits in the main hall.”

“And then there’s Tiny Teddy.”

“Yes,” she said eagerly. “Where the hell would he have gotten that bear? It’s the same bear. I knew it the minute I picked it up. I’m the one who found the black button for Gemma. And it isn’t just Tiny Teddy. He remembers all kinds of things. Things only Brian could know.”

What kind of things could only a four-year-old know? “You mean like who everyone was? Where the nursery is located? That kind of thing?”

“No. I know what you’re thinking. If he did his homework, he’d know what we all look like. He’d know the floor plan of the house. But he was talking about things no one outside of this family would remember. He recognized Mrs. Truscott. He remembered the name of his dog, for God’s sake.”

“Brian had a dog?”

“Yes. Well, Matthew had a dog. Brian naturally thought it was his dog.”

“Corky,” Griff said slowly.

“Yes. Corky. Brian remembered Corky. He remembered the bird clock in the library. He remembered Muriel’s Toshikane bracelet with the little ceramic faces of Japanese gods. Those aren’t things anyone else would know about. Most of them are things even an adult wouldn’t remember. I didn’t remember that bracelet of Muriel’s until Brian mentioned it.”

“So you don’t have any doubts? None of you have any doubts?”

“No. No.” The earnest tone was not what he expected from her, but she seemed sincere. “This is the first good news this family has had in twenty years. Don’t get sucked into Pierce’s cynicism. You have a happy ending for your book. Be glad. You’ll sell a million copies.”

“Am I still writing the book? Brian sounded pretty adamant.”

Michaela gave him a level look. “Oh, you’re writing the book. I don’t have any doubt about that. I don’t think Brian will be a contributor, but I don’t think that’s going to stop you.”