Stranger on the Shore - lanyon Josh - Страница 40

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“Someone else could have gone by the same photos and made a toy bear to resemble Tiny Teddy. It wouldn’t be that difficult.”

“I don’t ever recall seeing a public photo of Brian’s teddy bear, so you’re talking about someone on the inside helping Leland.”

Pierce’s expression was serious, unsmiling. “Yes. I think so. Don’t you?”

It was a relief to hear Pierce say it aloud. Until then Griff had wondered if he wasn’t letting his imagination once again overrule his common sense.

“I want to show you something.” Griff left the table and went upstairs. He dug in the back of the closet and pulled out the broken board he had hidden there. He carried the board downstairs.

“I found this in the lower pond the night after the center of the bridge gave way.”

Pierce examined the sawn edge of the board while Griff filled him in on his theory the bridge had been sabotaged. He told him about the strange phone call he’d received that same night.

“You didn’t think you should maybe mention this to someone?” Pierce’s black brows formed that straight and forbidding line.

“Like who?”

“Like me.”

“You?” Griff laughed. “No. I didn’t.”

“The hell.” Pierce looked offended.

“There’s no way to call through to this cottage except from the main house, which means someone from the main house was trying to scare me off. No way were you going to side with me against anyone from the main house, especially since you wanted me gone too.”

“Wait a minute.” Pierce put down the board. “You think I would be a knowing party to threats and harassment? Never mind an act of vandalism that could have resulted in serious injury or death?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“The hell I am. You could have broken your neck or your back falling through that bridge. I’m not saying that was the intent, but it sure wasn’t anyone’s concern either.” He seemed genuinely disturbed.

“Okay, well, I didn’t know you then,” Griff said. “I didn’t think you were down here actually sawing through planks, but it did go through my mind that maybe you conveniently showed up in time to make sure I didn’t drown.”

Pierce’s jaw dropped. “You think I’m capable of that, but you’re high and mightily pissed off because I dared to do some checking up on you?”

“I’m still pissed off, so I wouldn’t bring that up if I were you.”

Pierce shook his head, still disbelieving. After a moment he picked up his fork and impaled another bite of mushroom and potato. “Letting that go for the moment, here’s as much of the story as Alvin has deigned to share so far. He believes, but isn’t completely sure because his memory has gaps and it was a long time ago, that he climbed out of bed and wandered away the night of the party.”

“Does he remember—” Griff stopped.

“Does he remember what?”

He shook his head. He had nearly asked if Alvin remembered Pierce forcing him to go back to his room, but he wasn’t sure if he had been told that in confidence. Either way it was liable to be a sensitive topic.

Pierce went on. “He says he was struck by a car, and had no idea who he really was until a couple of years ago.”

“Amnesia? Come on. He couldn’t come up with anything better than that?”

Pierce lifted one shoulder disparagingly. “Amnesia. Repressed memory.”

“False memory?”

“Vivid imagination?”

Griff made a disbelieving sound. “There’s no way it could have happened like that. Not given the manhunt that was underway. No Jonnie Doe in the tristate area could have been hospitalized around that time without it sending up flags.”

“Agreed. But his story is vague enough that it’s hard to disprove. He thinks the hospital he was taken to was Sister of Mercy, which has been closed for eighteen years after being gutted by fire. He grew up in foster care, but he’s not ready to talk about it. He’s hinted at horrific abuse.”

“What if it’s true?” Griff said uneasily.

“It’s not true. I don’t buy it for one minute. It’s a carefully calculated cover story. The facts either can’t be corroborated or he’s devised compelling reasons why no one would dare to push for corroboration.” Pierce pushed his empty plate aside. “That was tasty, by the way. You’re a good cook.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I know my way around a frying pan.”

“Have you been on your own a long time?”

Griff said coolly, “Stick to unmasking one imposter at a time, Pierce.”

He was surprised at the disconcerted look Pierce threw him. In fact, just for an instant, Pierce looked hurt. Or maybe that was what Griff wanted to see. Griff said, “Where’s he been living up till now?”

Pierce smiled. “I did manage to get the address out of Jarrett. Alvin claims he’s an artist of some kind working in upstate New York.”

“If he got his memory back a couple of years ago, why didn’t he come forward?”

“I asked the same thing. You should appreciate this. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the whole filthy rich lifestyle. He’s an artist, you understand.”

That gave Griff pause. “Like Gemma.”

“You’re being too generous. But he claims to be a free spirit. He needs his space. He needs the right vibrations. He wasn’t sure there was any point introducing himself to his long lost family because if they aren’t the right kind of people, he doesn’t plan on hanging around.”

Griff mulled this over. “Meaning if they’re the kind of people who dare to question his story, he won’t stay? If that isn’t emotional blackmail, I don’t know what is.”

Pierce’s gaze was approving. “That’s my take too. He’s not subtle. In fact, he laid it on with a trowel. For instance, seeing that his family gave up so easily on finding him, he just wasn’t sure he really belonged here anyway.”

“Did he actually say that?”

“He did. He used to cry himself to sleep every night in his little bed at the orphanage wondering why his real parents didn’t come for him.”

Griff swallowed. Pierce’s tone was scathing, but Griff had a sudden awful memory of doing the same thing. Well, not exactly the same thing. But he remembered being haunted by the feeling he didn’t belong, that his real mother and father were out there somewhere. He vividly recalled his mother slapping him—one of the few times she’d struck him—for saying she wasn’t his real mother.

Apparently it was a perfectly ordinary thing for kids to say when they were unhappy or angry, but his mother had been devastated. She had quirks like that. She was so independent, so self-reliant, but then some totally offbeat thing could knock her flat, literally send her rocking herself in a corner.

“You listening?” Pierce asked.

“Yes.”

“He’s got Jarrett’s psychological composite down cold. The funny thing is even five years ago Jarrett would have insisted on confirmation, corroboration. Hell, even three years ago he’d have demanded proof.”

“Maybe he senses Brian is telling the truth.”

“He’s not telling the truth. On top of all that, he was shrewd enough to contact Jarrett directly rather than go through me.”

“You can’t blame him for that. If I’d been able to figure out a way to reach Jarrett without going through you, I’d have done the same thing.”

This seemed to sting Pierce. He laid his pen down. “If you’ll notice, I did pass your information on to Jarrett. If I was the complete bastard you seem to think I am, I wouldn’t have done that.”

“True. I guess. You didn’t think there was a chance in a million Jarrett would consider talking to me.”

Pierce’s grin was reluctant. “True.”

“So that’s only partial credit.” Griff pushed his plate away and finished typing in his notes. “Okay. I’m going to get out of here early tomorrow before anyone can officially ask me to leave. I’ll drive up to...” He checked his notes “Ilion. Wherever that is.”

“It’s a village in Herkimer County. In the Mohawk Valley. I’ve driven through it a couple of times. It’s fairly rural and not affluent.”

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