Part 49 (2/2)
”Meredith Rawson. She's opened something very nasty and she can't seem to close the door.”
”Does she want to close it?”
”No. She's determined to find her half sister. She promised her mother. She wants to split her trust fund with her.”
”I think I would like her,” Dom said with a whisper of a smile.
”You would. You both think you are Don Quixote,” he added wryly. ”She wants to meet you, too.”
”Does she know ...?”
”I didn't tell her about you. She knows I had someone in mind. I wanted to be sure first.” He hesitated, then asked carefully, ”There couldn't have been anyone else?”
”No,” Dom said flatly. ”Not if the baby was born in February.”
Gage believed him. ”For what it's worth, I think the Rawson marriage was not a happy one.”
”I'm sorry about that,” Dom said, real regret in his voice. ”I occasionally saw photos of Maggie. All the vitality was gone. The smile was different.”
So he hadn't been as indifferent as he first indicated.
Gage wondered whether that was why he'd never married. Whether he had been as disillusioned as Gage had been.
”Will you come home with me? I think she would like to talk to you.” Gage paused. ”She lost both parents in a week. Now she's discovering that their lives were nothing but lies. I think she needs to hear that her mother was once happy.”
”I'm not sure she was,” Dom said. ”I had thought so, but--”
A knock at the door interrupted them.
Dom opened the door, and one of his a.s.sistants came in. ”Jayson's gone again.”
Dom sighed heavily. ”I can't keep him locked up here. Did any of the other boys say why?”
”He's probably after drugs.”
”Did he take anything from here?”
”One of the other boys says he took money from him.”
”Then he doesn't come back. Elliott, you've met Detective Gaynor, haven't you?”
”I've watched him play basketball.”
Gage chuckled. ”You saw me beat Dom?”
”I'm afraid I did.”
”He owes me a dinner.”
Elliott looked from one to the other. Despite the warm banter, tension was thick in the room.
Dom said, ”I'll be gone for a few hours. Can you handle things?”
”I think so.” Elliot left.
”I should warn you,” Gage said. ”Getting involved could be dangerous.”
”It's not only Maggie's daughter,” Dom said. ”I want to know exactly what happened years ago. It could clear my name. Dammit. Eighteen years in prison.”
”Eighteen? You said you were sentenced to ten.”
”Some guys came after me. I knifed one to protect myself. Eight more years.”
Gage sat up in his chair. ”Why did they come after you?”
Dom looked at him for a moment, then realization crossed his face. ”You think the attack was planned.”
”Someone might have thought you would hunt Prescott down and discover who was behind him. There was no reason for him to frame you on his own.”
”That's one reason no one believed me,” Dom said. ”And the fact that Maggie had disappeared.”
”She didn't testify for you?”
He shrugged. ”She wasn't there. I don't suppose it would have helped anyway. She didn't know about Prescott's offer but...”
But he'd obviously felt betrayed. Pain was in every word he uttered.
Gage had known Dom for a long time. He was pa.s.sionate in his crusade to help kids but otherwise had always been a good companion who loved a gla.s.s of beer and good conversation. Now Gage realized how self-controlled Dom was, how little he revealed to anyone.
”And she never contacted you again?”
”No,” Dom said, then paused. ”She didn't say anything to her daughter about me?”
”According to Meredith, she just said a few words before lapsing into a coma. Apparently those few words took all her strength. She only said there was a daughter and she'd been born in Memphis in February 1970.”
Dom gave a bitter chuckle. ”Silent to the end.”
”There had to be reasons, Dom.”
”Yeah, she didn't want the kid of a convict.”
”I don't think that was it.” Gage stood. ”Let's go.”
Meredith paced restlessly. She looked through his bookcases. She'd discovered long ago that books revealed a great deal about a person.
But their eclectic nature told her little. There were mysteries, suspense, biographies, history, literary cla.s.sics. He had stacks of 'Sports Ill.u.s.trated'. His CD collection was just as varied: jazz, blues, cla.s.sical. A few oldies. No hard rock.
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