"Gardner, Lisa - The Other Daughter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Lisa)

He smiled. "I know your family, Melanie. Your mom, your dad, your brother. I covered their story when Meagan was kidnapped, and I was with Patricia and Brian the night they fried Russell Lee Holmes. You don't want to listen to me, fine. You go inside and tell your mother that Larry Digger is here to see her. Didn't she just get out of rehab? I understand that since the death of her first daughter, her nerves have never been the same." Digger exhaled a plume of smoke right into Melanie's face. "What do you think?"
"You are a piece of shit."
"Ah, honey, I've been called worse." Digger flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. "How's Brian anyway? I remember him pressing his face to the glass in the witness room-you know, back then. When they

fried Russell Lee, it was gruesome, just plain sick. Everyone closed their eyes and covered their ears. But fourteen-year-old Brian Stokes pressed his face against the glass and stared at Russell Lee dying as if he was trying to sear it into his brain. Sear it, mind you.
"I hear Brian's gay now. Do you think watching a
man die could affect a man's sexual preferences? Jus
asking." .
The last comment, so cruel in its casualness, struck! Melanie like a blow. She had to close her eyes, and then she was so angry she couldn't speak. She wanted to hurt him. The intensity of the desire balled her hands into fists. But she was no match for him, fat and all, and they both knew it.
"I want you away from my family," she said finally.?
"Whatever it is you have to say, you say it here. If you:
honestly have a story, I'm sure a quote from a killer's
child is worth enough to you to stay the hell away
from them. Deal?" \
Larry Digger pretended to consider it. He took another deep drag from his cigarette and looked at the park around them, but his beady eyes were already gleaming triumphantly.
"I like you," Digger said suddenly. "I don't like \ most people, Miss Holmes. But I like you. You not \ only have Russell Lee's eyes, you got his spine."
"I'm just so darn flattered," Melanie spat out, and Digger laughed.
"Yeah, you're a fine piece of work. So tell me, sweetheart, what's it like to suddenly get to live with so much money?"
"Oh, it's just as good as you dreamed, Larry, and everything you'll never have."
"Yeah? Too bad I'm going to ruin it for you." Larry Digger stubbed out his cigarette on the tree trunk and got serious. "The hospital," he said. "I think that's the key. Over a hundred hospitals in this city, and you just happen to end up at Harper's?"
"Coincidence."
"Maybe, but they all start to add up after a while. First we got the timing, Miss Holmes. You just happened to appear the night Russell Lee is fried for killing little kids. Then we got location. You just happened to be dropped at Harper's hospital and he just happened to have blown off an execution to be there. Then we got you. A little girl. Found perfectly clothed and in good health but nobody ever claimed you? All these years, not a single whisper from the people who must've taken care of you for nine years, bought you clothes, fed you, put a roof over your head, hell, even made sure you were found at a hospital, where you'd be in good hands. And then there's the matter of your amnesia. A healthy little girl who couldn't remember anything about where she came from, not even her own name. And all these years later, two decades later, you still don't remember. Seems strange to me that a nine-year-old child could appear out of nowhere, remember nothing, and be claimed by no one. Strange. Or planned."
"You know what they say, truth is stranger than fiction."
"Oh, that's a good one, Miss Holmes. Harper ever take you to a hypnotist? What about regression therapy or aromatherapy or whatever else quacks are dreaming up these days?"
"The doctors who checked me out said I was physically fine and that I'd remember when I was ready to remember."
4'Come on, Miss Holmes, surely the great Dr. Harper Stokes had a few opinions on this subject. He coulda taken you to a hypnotist anytime and what would anybody have done about it? What would have happened? You would've remembered, that's what. And your family, sweetheart, doesn't want you to remember."
"Oh, this is stupid! All you have supplied are a bunch of coincidences. And your little scenario has holes you could drive a truck through. Plain and simple, my parents loved Meagan. No way would they knowingly have adopted the child of her killer. That doesn't make sense."
Larry Digger was looking at her curiously. "You honestly believe that, don't you?"
"Of course I do. What the hell do you mean?" | "Huh." He nodded to himself as if she'd just answered a very important question. Melanie shook her head, starting to feel more confused now, as if she were at the top of a very steep precipice and she'd just taken her first misstep.
The throbbing in her head was growing. Black
voids were appearing in front of her eyes. She hadn't
suffered from a serious migraine in years, but now she
had the faint realization that she was dangerously
close to vomiting. ;
"Maybe you had to know Harper and Patricia in Texas," Digger was murmuring. "Maybe you had to > see them sitting up in their rich palace no fourth-year resident should be able to afford. Maybe you had to see them in Texas with their two kids, one so sweet, everyone loved her, and one already so troubled, half the moms on the block wouldn't let him play with their children. I'm getting the impression, Miss Holmes, there's a helluva lot about your family you just plain don't know." "That's not true. It's not."
"Ah, Miss Holmes." Larry Digger sounded sympathetic, almost pitying. It confused her more than his vicious comments had. "Let me tell you something, Melanie, for your own sake. I didn't find you on my own, kid. I got a tip. An anonymous call in the middle of the night. Needless to say, reporters don't like anonymous tips, not even washed-up pieces of shit like me." His teeth flashed, then his voice turned horribly somber. "I had the caller traced the second time, Miss Holmes. Right back to Boston, Massachusetts. Right back to Beacon Street. Right back to your house. Why do you think that is, Mel? Why is someone from your house calling me about Russell Lee Holmes?"
"I don't ... It doesn't . . . None of this makes any sense." The world tilted suddenly. Melanie sat down on the ground. She heard herself whisper, "But that was so long ago. . . ."
Larry Digger smiled. "You get what you deserve, Melanie Stokes. By the caller's own words, you get what you deserve." "No-"
"How much of a person's temperament is genetic, Melanie Holmes? Are junkyard dogs born or raised? Are you really as polished and refined as your uptight adoptive parents, or does a little Texas white trash lurk beneath that surface? I already know you can be tough. Now, what about violence? Ever look at a little kid, Miss Holmes, and feel hungry?"
"No! No. Oh, God . . ." Her head exploded. Melanie grabbed her temples, pressed her forehead against her knees, and rocked on the grass.
From far away she heard Larry Digger chortle. "I'm right, aren't I? Twenty-five years later, I'm finally getting it ri-" His words suddenly ended in a yelp.
Melanie turned slowly. A white figure had joined them in the park. He seemed to have his hand clamped on Larry Digger's shoulder.
"She asked you to leave," the newcomer said calmly.
Larry Digger tried to push the man away. "Hey, this is private. Don't you got horse d'oovers to serve or something?"
"No, but I'm thinking of sharpening my knives." The man tightened his grip even more, and Digger held up his hands in surrender. The minute he was released, he backed up. "Okay, I'll go. But I'm not lying. I do have proof, Miss Holmes. I have information, not just about your father, but your birth mother as well. Ever think of her, Miss Holmes? Bet she could

actually tell you your real birthday, let alone your real name. Midtown Hotel, sweetheart. Pleasant dreams." The man took a quick step forward at the sarcastic tone, and Larry Digger hightailed it out of there, his stained coat flapping behind him.
Melanie's stomach heaved. She celebrated Larry Digger's departure by spewing shrimp all over the grass and the man's glossy black shoes.
"Shit!" he yelped, leaping back awkwardly. He didn't seem to know what to do.
That made two of them. Tears of rage streamed down Melanie's cheeks. Her head was throbbing, and images added to the chaos in her mind. Blue dress, blond hair, pleading eyes. / want to go home now. Please, let me go home.