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

"You don't belong here, sir. This is a private function, and if you don't leave right now, I'm calling security."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." "Well, you aren't me," she said firmly. She opened her mouth to summon help. Suddenly the man's hand snapped around her wrist and he stared at her with an intensity that was startling. Melanie couldn't breathe.
Something was stirring in the back of her mind. Ripples in the void. Not now, not now.
"I know about your father," the man whispered intently.
"H-Harper Stokes?"
"Nah, Miss Stokes. I know about your real father, your birth father."
"What?"
He smiled. A smile of supreme satisfaction. "Follow me, Miss Stokes," he said calmly. "I'm gonna tell you a story. A little story about Texas and a serial killer named Russell Lee Holmes."

THREE
LARRY DIGGER TUGGED Melanie into the foyer. The Duvets, about to depart, gave them a curious look, and Melanie's lips formed an automatic smile. She was still turning the reporter's words around in her head.
"I know about your real father . . . your birth father . . .
Digger twisted them away from the guests and headed down the back hall. Two servers burst through the swinging doors at the end. "Jesus Christ, this place is overrun. How many rich people do you know?"
"Do you want money? Is that what this is about?" Digger jerked her toward the back patio, but it was
also filled with guests who gave them startled glances.
"Fuck this!"
He gave up on the house altogether and pulled her across the street to the Public Garden.
The night was warm and humid, the air fragrant with cherry blossoms and hyacinths, the gas lamps soft. May was a gorgeous month in Boston, and people took advantage of it. Melanie could see young couples nuzzling beneath maple trees, older couples herding their children, other people walking dogs.

The park was active and well lit, so Melanie wasn't afraid.
Mostly she was confused. A dull throbbing had taken root behind her left eye, and she was thinking Russell Lee Holmes, Russell Lee Holmes. Why did that name sound so familiar?
Larry Digger stopped beneath a tree, shoved his pudgy hands in his trench coat pockets, and squared off against her.
"Russell Lee Holmes murdered six children. They ever tell you that?"
"What?"
"Yep. That's what he did. Mean son of a bitch. Liked his children young and with curly blond hair. Kidnapped poor children mostly, white trash like himself. Took them to dump yards and messed them up like you wouldn't believe. I have photos."
"What?"
"Come on," Digger said impatiently. "Stop playing stupid. Russell Lee Holmes. Killed your parents' first daughter. Raped her and cut off her head. What was her name again?"
Oh, God, that's where she knew the name. Brian must have told her, or Jamie. Certainly her parents never spoke of that time.
"M-M-Meagan," Melanie whispered.
"Yeah, Meagan, that's it. She was the worst one, all right. Four years old, cute as a button. Your parents doled out a hundred thousand bucks for ransom, and all they got to bury was a headless corpse. Enough to drive a mother to drink-"
"Shut up!" Melanie had heard enough. "What the hell do you want, Mr. Digger? Because if you think 1 m going to just stand here and listen to you take potshots at my family, you got another think coming."
"I want you!" Digger moved in close. "I've been
following you, Melanie Stokes. For twenty-five years
I've been trying to find proof of your existence, trying
to find out if Russell Lee Holmes really did have a wife and child, because that son of a bitch wouldn't tell a soul, wouldn't even tell me on his execution day, the bastard. But I've kept looking. Russell Lee Holmes was front-page news when they got him, and he was front-page news when they fried his ass. And he's gonna be front-page news again when I announce that I've found his daughter. You know what, Holmes-you got his eyes."
"Look, I don't know what your game is, but I was found in Boston. I don't have anything to do with some guy in Texas."
"I never said you grew up in Texas, just that your
daddy died there-" .<
"After fathering a child in Boston? I don't think
so."
"Oh, but I do. See, Russell Lee may have lived in Texas, but once he was arrested for murder, it was probably best for his wife and child if they got out of town. The newspapers were overflowing with accounts of what he did, you know-particularly the Stokes girl." Larry Digger rocked back on his heels. "He kidnapped her right from the nanny's car, sent a ransom demand, and raped and killed her even as your parents were struggling to raise the money. Very ingenious of him, you have to admit. I mean, there he was, coming up with ways to get paid for his work-" "Goddammit." Melanie had definitely had enough. "I am not Russell Lee Holmes's daughter. You, on the other hand, are a crackpot. Good-bye."
Melanie took a step. Larry Digger snapped his hand around her wrist and held tight. For the first time Melanie was afraid. When she turned, however, the reporter said calmly, "Of course you're Russell Lee's daughter."
"Let go of my arm."
"You were found the night Russell Lee Holmes died," the reporter continued as if she hadn't spoken. "They ever tell you that? Yep, Russell Lee goes to the chair in Texas, and a little girl without a past suddenly appears in Harper Stokes's hospital. Awfully coincidental if you ask me. And then you gotta wonder- why was Harper even working that night? The man who killed his little girl is being executed, and he stays home to work? Kind of strange if you ask me. Unless he knows he has a good reason to stick around the hospital."
"I was drugged and abandoned in the ER," Melanie said slowly. "My father is a cardiac surgeon. That he came downstairs at all was purely a fluke-"
"Or good timing."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, how many men die a day in the U.S. anyway? A few thousand? A few hundred thousand? Want to tell me I'm their daughter too?"
She gave the reporter an exasperated glance and simultaneously yanked her arm free. Digger appeared unconcerned, fishing out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and pounding out a smoke.
"Come on, Miss Holmes. You honestly never wondered where you came from? You're not the teeniest bit curious?"
"Good-bye."