sat. “How are you and your ex-husband getting on?”
“One of the cases I worked on over the last few weeks involved a cruiseliner, and as a thank-you the company flew Martin and Ben over for a holiday.”
Dan looked almost disappointed.
“Ben stayed in my cabin and Martin did his own thing in the day. We’d meet up for dinner for Ben’s sake, but nothing’s changed. Martin still has a lot of growing up to do.”
“Sorry to hear that.” He studied the color of the drink before taking a sip. “You need someone who’s on the same level. I mean in terms of age and maturity.”
Anya was never sure how to take Dan’s personal comments. What had started out like a compliment ended up sounding as though she were matronly.
“Are you saying I’m old before my time?”
He sniffed the top of the glass. “No, of course not. I just meant-”
Seeing a verbose lawyer tongue-tied made her smile. “It’s okay. Did you tell your girlfriend about the box?”
This time it was the lawyer’s turn to blush.
“Not yet. I don’t know if I want to, to be honest. We met while you were away and things happened so quickly. But there isn’t the trust there yet that comes from really knowing someone. I don’t feel I can trust her the way I can you.” He took a sip. “I mean, she really wants to make this work and I owe her that. Guess I need to give it time.”
She felt the rash on her neck redden. “Would you like to read Jeff Sales’s report or just get the summary?”
Dan sat forward and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it on the coffee table. Anya had never felt the need for coasters on cheap furniture, but appreciated the courtesy.
He placed his glass on top. “I’ll read and you can translate if necessary. By the way, this place is really nice and this couch is far more comfortable than mine. Want to swap?”
Anya shook her head; although a leather sofa did have appeal compared to her secondhand lounge, she had to admit that sinking into this one took the edge off a long day. She handed him the envelope in which she’d placed copies of the post-mortem results, minus the DNA profile. She sat close enough to track the words as he read.
It took a few minutes for him to comment.
“The baby died of some kind of cancer? Nothing suspicious?”
Anya sat back and folded her arms. “That’s what it looks like. There’s no need for an inquest.”
He breathed out. “It’s kind of sad, but it is good news, under the circumstances. Thanks for doing what you have. I owe you.”
He leaned back and locked his hands behind his head. “As far as I know, my dad’s father had six kids and neither they nor my cousins have any kind of hereditary diseases to speak of. The old man died of lung cancer after smoking fifty a day for most of his life.”
Anya rubbed her neck. The only way to tell him was to just give him all the facts.
“The DNA sample showed you and the baby, a little girl, are related, but it isn’t through your grandfather. You share the same mitochondrial DNA.”
He didn’t react.
“Dan, mitochondrial DNA only comes from the mother’s line. What I’m trying to say is that the baby had to be from your own mother’s line. It could be from women on your mother’s side-cousins, for example.
“That can’t be right,” he said. “My mother was adopted. She was orphaned in England during the war. Apparently my grandparents on Mum’s side weren’t able to have kids so they visited an orphanage while on holiday there and adopted Mum. Mind you, I sometimes wonder why they bothered. There wasn’t a lot of love in that family. By the time I was born, Mum had no contact with her parents. First time I saw my grandfather was in law school when he gave a lecture. Guess Mum felt like an accessory-all their high-powered friends had children-so they had to have one, and a girl could marry into a legal dynasty, increasing their status. By marrying my father, who was never going to be a judge, she ruined their ambitions.”
In that case, there was only one possibility. “Dan, you understand what that means? The baby has to be your mother’s.”
He reached for his drink and quickly emptied the glass. “No one ever mentioned a stillborn. If I had a sister I’d know. My parents didn’t keep secrets.”
He stared at the glass in his hand. Anya stayed silent, giving him time to absorb the news.
“If what you’re saying is true, the only explanation has to be that it was just too painful for them to ever talk about.”
Anya took a deep breath. She didn’t want to be the one to shatter Dan’s image of his late mother but she had no choice.
“There’s a chance your father doesn’t even know about the baby. The DNA test shows that he cannot have been the father.”
Dan immediately stood, handed Anya the empty glass and grabbed his jacket. She couldn’t read what he was thinking, or whether he was angry or even believed her.
“The only way to sort this out is to talk to Dad. If you don’t mind coming, I could pick you up next Sunday, say about three and we can clear this up. There has to be a mistake somewhere and a simple explanation.”
“Sorry, I can’t go with you. I’ve got Ben for the weekend.”
“No problem. Bring him along. There’s a park next to the nursing home. He’ll love it. Tell you what, I’ll even bring a football.”
Anya tried to protest, but the lawyer was used to winning arguments. Ben would go with them and get to run around a park as a bribe.
She closed the door, surprised at how well Dan had taken the news, but doubtful he had accepted the truth about his mother.
She couldn’t see how the visit could end well for Dan or his unsuspecting father.
17
Anya fumbled for the phone in the dark.
“Doctor Crichton,” she droned, eyelids too heavy to open.
No one spoke back.
“Hello,” she mumbled, hoping the caller had changed their mind.
As she was about to hang up, she heard what sounded like someone crying in the background.
“It’s Violet Yardley.” The voice was high-pitched. “You told me I could call. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Anya reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. The clock showed 12:15 A.M. No wonder her limbs and head felt like lead as she tried to sit up.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m scared and I need your help. Someone’s in trouble.”
Anya was suddenly alert.
“Where are you? The police can be there-”
“No, no police.” Violet became more shrill. “That’ll make everything worse. She’s hurt. It’s bad this time.”
“Wait, Violet.” Anya needed to know how severely injured this unknown person was. If she needed an ambulance, they could be wasting critical time. The image of Giverny Hart’s body and what a difference a few minutes made flashed through her mind.
“How badly hurt is she? Was there an accident? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No. No ambulance, no other doctors and no nurses! We want you to look after her.”
So far Anya had no idea what had happened to the friend. She hadn’t ruled out a drug overdose or attempted suicide or an accident. Fear of police and hospitals suggested she’d done something illegal, possibly drugs or drunk driving. Then again, she could have been sexually assaulted. She needed a lot of information quickly, if she was to help in any way, without Violet becoming histrionic and panicking.
The background had gone quiet.
