Линвуд Баркли - Find You First

Travis said, “You’re a little late.”

Miles raised his eyebrows. He extended his arm toward the door.

“Okay,” Travis said, and the two of them went out to the porch. Travis closed the door so his mother wouldn’t listen in, and they each settled into a wicker chair.

Before telling his story, Miles was hoping for a sense of whether Travis knew he was the product of an artificial insemination. As he’d discussed with Chloe, it was a real double whammy to find out that (a) your dad’s not your real dad, and (b) someone might be out to get you.

Miles had reviewed the materials Dorian and Heather had compiled, and seen from Facebook postings that Travis did not look much like his father.

Looking at Dorian’s notes, Miles could not stop thinking about what Heather had learned. His assistant had been ripping off the company. He was so consumed with tracking down the remaining men and women on his list that he’d forced himself to push the Dorian issue out of his head. It was an issue he would have to deal with later. The strange thing was, he felt no anger. Just overwhelming disappointment.

But right now, in this moment, he had to focus on Travis Roben.

“What do you know about your history?” Miles asked.

“History?”

“Your background. Your... family background.”

“I don’t know. The usual stuff, I guess.”

“What I’m wondering is, have you ever, for example, used one of those services you see advertised on TV that can shed light on your ancestry? Like WhatsMyStory, which tests—”

“I know what it is. And no.” He squinted at Miles, as if that would help him see the man’s true motives. “I would never do that.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt my dad’s feel—”

He cut himself off.

“Why would an ancestry search hurt your dad’s feelings, Travis?” Miles felt a need to go slowly. “Because it would make him think you didn’t view him as your real father?”

Travis glanced back at the door, double-checking it was closed. “My parents, they had some... issues when they wanted to have kids.”

Miles nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“I guess they tried a long time, and didn’t, you know, get anywhere.”

“So your parents decided to explore other ways.”

Travis nodded.

“Your mother, she went to a fertility clinic?”

“You know, this is pretty personal stuff to talk about with someone I don’t know.”

“I get that. But am I right?”

“I guess... she would have had to,” Travis said.

“And this clinic, so far as you know, where was it?”

“Around New York. Where my parents used to live.”

Miles looked satisfied. “I won’t pry anymore. I’m going to tell you my story. Interrupt at any time.”

And Miles laid it out, just as he had with the FBI agent, but without revealing the names of the people who were most likely half siblings to Travis. To Travis’s credit, he let Miles tell all of it and asked only a minimum of questions.

“So you’re not my biological father,” Travis said, when Miles finished.

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. A test would confirm it. But I’m not related to the first person I contacted, and my name was on that file. I’m guessing it’ll be that way with all of them.”

“Did that bum you out?” he asked.

“Yes. So, the first thing you said to me was that I’d gotten here late. What’d you mean by that?”

“These two people, they tried to kill us.”

“‘Us’?”

“Me and my girlfriend, Sandy.”

“They tried to kill you?” Miles was wide-eyed.

Travis told his story, including the part where Sandy whacked that woman in the face with the bat.

Miles said, “You didn’t go to the police?”

“Too scared,” Travis said. “What if they were cops? Like, I don’t know, a couple of sicko cops who are like, thrill killers or something?”

Miles thought about that. “The fact there’s been nothing on the news suggests that whatever they were up to, they didn’t want the authorities finding out about it. What about Sandy?”

“She’s scared shitless, too.”

“Look, Travis, you and Sandy need to come forward. Yesterday I was talking to a woman from the FBI, an agent, and she didn’t feel there was enough here to launch any kind of investigation. But what happened to you two, that’s a whole new ball game. You’ve got a story to tell, suspects you can describe. This could change everything.”

“I don’t know what to do.” He paused. “I’m scared.”

“You’d be nuts not to be.”

Travis managed, for the first time, something approaching a grin. “I guess it’s too bad you’re not my father. I’d have come into a shitload of money.”

Miles smiled wryly. “Let’s go find Sandy.”

Travis was still holding the phone, but was hesitating.

“You need to trust me,” Miles said. “They failed the first time they came after you. There’s nothing to say it won’t happen again. You need to get ahead of this. You need to let me help you.”

Travis waited another moment, nodded, and started to compose a short, simple text:

A DEVELOPMENT. NEED TO SEE YOU.

He hit Send and waited.

“She usually gets back to me right away,” he said. He stared at the phone, waiting for the telltale dots that would tell him she was replying.

He waited. And waited.

“Maybe she’s in the bathroom or something,” Travis said, but there was a nervous edge to his voice.

“Forget texting,” Miles said. “Phone her.”

Travis tapped, then put the phone to his ear. “It’s ringing.”

He let it ring ten times. Then he checked to see whether she was now replying to his text. She was not.

Miles had a flashback to when Chloe had tried to get in touch with Todd. A chill ran the length of his spine.

“We need to find her right now,” he said.

Somewhere...

Chloe could feel herself slowly coming out of a deep sleep.

She’d had a dream about some woman spraying her with something awful, how she had this burning sensation in her eyes and throat and on her skin. How she’d more or less gone blind, what with her eyes stinging so badly. She’d put her hands over her face, screaming with pain, and that was when she felt something jab into her arm.

No, not a dream, she thought as she slowly regained consciousness. It had happened. When she came out of the diner, after the limo pulled up alongside her.

Thinking it was Miles.

Not Miles.

She’d had only a second to get a look at the person in the back seat of the limo. A woman, some woman Chloe had never seen before in her life. Dark hair, kind of nice looking, late forties, she thought. Maybe older. Not that she’d had much time to take her in. A second, maybe? Two, tops? Chloe had barely enough time to ask who she was before she raised her hand. She’d been holding some tiny canister.

Pepper spray, Chloe figured.

Before she opened her eyes, she became aware that she was on a soft, pretty comfortable surface. She ran her fingers along what felt like a quilt, and her head was resting on a very cushy pillow.

And she could sense light coming through her eyelids. She had no idea how long she’d been out, whether it was night or day, but wherever she was, the lights were on.

Chloe fluttered her eyelids, getting adjusted to the brightness. She went to sit up, but found she lacked the strength. Whatever that bitch had jabbed into her arm was still working its magic. She’d been on her side, and slowly rolled until she was on her back. She had barely enough energy to move her head from side to side.

There were nightstands on either side of the bed, decorated with large lamps with oversized shades. There was a dresser, some landscape paintings on the wall like you’d see in a hotel.