Part 48 (2/2)
”Too many people have been dying around me,” she said. ”I couldn't stand another.”
”I have no intention of letting anything happen to me.”
He touched her cheek, then she stood on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.
”Promise,” she demanded.
”Oh, yes,” he drawled. His voice was husky.
And then he left.
*Chapter Twenty-five*
'NEW ORLEANS'.
Gage met Dom at the shelter, a large rambling building that included a small gym where Gage and Dom played basketball with some of the young residents.
The building had been donated years ago when Father Michael Murphy ran the shelter. Father Murphy had a silver tongue and had not only talked someone out of the building but had garnered substantial backing for his cause. Dom, who had worked with him since he'd been released from prison, had been Father Murphy's designated successor.
Though not as diplomatic as Father Murphy, Dom's commitment and dedication had kept the money coming. He received city, state and federal grants, and had managed to keep the stream of money flowing from sources long cultivated by Father Murphy. Still, he never had quite enough. The number of runaways kept increasing.
Gage knew Father Murphy had saved the bitter young man who had spent years in prison. He'd sponsored his parole, given him a job and paid his college tuition. And Dom had found his calling. His experience in prison had helped hundreds of kids in trouble. They loved Father Murphy but they related to Dom.
Dom was in his office, a frown on his face as he looked at bills. The frown disappeared when he saw Gage.
”Thank G.o.d. An excuse to delay this. I hate paperwork. And bills even more.”
”How are the finances going?”
”As always, I can use more money. Some of the kids really need better clothes. It's hard enough for them to go to school with the other kids knowing where they live. It's harder when they don't have decent clothes to wear.”
”I'll send a check.”
”You send enough, but I'll accept anyway. Now, why did you sound so urgent?”
Gage closed the door. ”I asked you a few questions the other day.”
Dom waited.
”About Mrs. Rawson? Whether you knew her.”
”I'm not senile yet, Gage. What is the point here?”
”Did your father have a tavern near Donaldsonville?”
Dom merely gazed at him. Watching. Waiting.
”Did you know Mrs. Rawson when she was Marguerite Thibadeau?”
”Why the interrogation?”
”People have been dying, Dom. I think they are dying because of something that happened thirty-three years ago.”
Dom didn't move. His face didn't change. Gage knew that stare. He had seen it on his brother's face. In prison you learned to school your expression. But you couldn't always control your eyes.
Gage saw something there.
He played his trump card. ”Did you know Marguerite Thibadeau Rawson had a child in February 1970? A daughter?”
He saw the implications of what he'd said register in Dom's eyes. A muscle flexed in his throat. ”No,” he said softly after a long pause. ”I thought she had gone to Europe.”
”What happened back then, Dom?”
Dom stared into the distance. Gage knew he had never married. He'd always laughed it off. An ugly ex-con who had fifty wayward sons had no business getting married.
Since Gage had also avoided matrimony like the plague for his own reasons, he'd understood.
Dom's hands played with a pen.
Gage waited.
”'My' daughter?” he finally asked.
”If the timing is right, it's a d.a.m.n good possibility.”
”Where is she?” Only the throbbing muscle in his throat revealed any emotion.
”We don't know. Mrs. Rawson told her daughter, Meredith, about it just before she lapsed into a coma. She asked Meredith to find her and split a trust. Meredith has been trying to find her, but there aren't any records.”
”The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.” Dom spit out the two words.
Gage waited. He'd wondered if the father knew. If he hadn't, then he would probably be of little help.
Dom rose from the chair and started pacing. Barely restrained fury radiated in the room.
”Who?” Gage finally said. ”Who are the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?”
”Her father. Oliver Prescott.”
”Prescott?”
Dom sat down abruptly. His face was like a piece of stone, his brown eyes glittering like agates. It was obvious he was trying to control himself.
”Dom, we need help. There's been an attempt on Meredith's life. Her apartment was trashed, a friend of her mother's was killed after agreeing to talk to Meredith. Now her father's been killed. I'm afraid they will try again to kill her.” He stopped. ”It all started when she started to ask questions about her half sister.”
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