Perfect Victim, The (6 page)

As much as she didn
'
t want to admit it, she couldn
'
t remember ever being so physically aware of a man. She'd never been one to ogle biceps or tight jeans or other such superficial attributes. It grated against her sense of propriety that her hormones had gone into overdrive for a crass, mean spirited jerk like Talbot.
.

Gretchen was right
.
There were shady private investigation firms out there just waiting for the unsuspecting client to happen by
.
The thought made her feel gullible and she hated it
.
Next time, she
'
d be more cautious
.

It took every ounce of control she possessed not to slam the door behind her when she entered the shop through the alley. She stood in the storage room for a full minute, shaking
,
trying to get her pulse rate down so she could face Gretchen. It wouldn't do her a bit of good to bite her friend's head off, then face her lunch customers when she couldn't even muster a smile
.

A moment later, the door swung open and Gretchen ap
proached her with a tray containing a cup of coffee, a powdered scone, and the cordless telephone. "I thought I heard the bell." She set the tray atop a small stool. "How did your meeting go?"

Addison reached for the scone and coffee simultaneously, ignoring the phone. "Let's just say he wasn't Tom Selleck in a Hawaiian shirt."

''That bad, huh?"

She bit into the scone. "Unscrupulous doesn't begin to cover it."

"Oh, my." Frowning, Gretchen looked down at the phone. "You can tell me all about it after you take this call."

The scone stopped in midair. "Who is it?" Addison asked suspiciously. If it was Talbot, she would simply excuse herself, step out into the alley, and let loose with the long string of expletives she'd thought up during her walk back to the shop.

"It's Jim Bernstein."

Addison's stomach tightened. Her attorney never called unless it was important. Unwittingly, she'd stepped back on the emotional roller coaster, she realized. She told herself it was probably nothing. It was her way of mentally bracing. If she didn't get her hopes up, she couldn't be disappointed.

She reached for the phone. "Hello, Jim."

"Are you sitting down?" he asked.

Her heart stuttered. "Have you found something?"

"You might say that. I've located your birth mother."

Chapter
3

Jim Bernstein’s office was a short distance from the shop in an affluent section of lower downtown, nestled
among upscale cafes, trendy shops, and tastefully refurbished warehouses. Needing the time to gather her thoughts, Addison decided to walk.

After nine months of searching, she would finally know the identity of her birth mother
.
For the first time since she began her search, she found herself facing questions she hadn't yet considered
.
How would she approach this woman who was little more than a stranger? Would her birth mother welcome her with open arms? Or would she turn Addison away at the door?

She ruminated the questions as she walked. By the time she entered the reception area of the law office, she was trembling. She'd looked forward to this moment for so long, she hadn't paused to think about what would transpire after this climax
.
With the end of her search finally in sight, she could only wonder what kind of relationship she would share with the woman who'd given birth to her
.

Jim Bernstein strode into the reception area and welcomed her into one of his uncomfortably tight bear hugs. "Addie, you're lovelier every time I see you."

His warmth eased her nervousness. “Thank you for seeing me."

He was a large man with a voice like a foghorn and the personality of a bull terrier. "Did you see Jack Talbot this morning?"

Addison thought of her disastrous meeting with Randall Talbot and wondered how Jim had managed to hook up with such a loser. "You should keep better company, Jim."

His brows furrowed. "Jack Talbot's top shelf."

"I saw his brother, actually." She hoped Jim didn't notice the hot blush she felt on her cheeks.

"I didn't know Jack had a brother."

"He probably wishes he didn't," she said wryly.

"I'm sorry if I put you in an uncomfortable position."

"It's okay. I didn't hire him."

With a shrug, he said, "Well, now that I've found your birth mother, we won't need them, will we?" Smiling reassuringly, he motioned toward the hall from which he'd emerged. "Shall we go into my office?"

Addison followed him to the small office and settled into a wingback chair opposite his desk. She held her breath as Jim seated himself and opened a manila folder. Inside her chest, her heart did a little dance, stopping, then speeding up, rising into her throat and then plummeting.

"Her name is Agnes Beckett," he began.

The name struck her, then swirled in her head like a leaf caught in a gale. Nine months of hope and need and anticipation tangled up inside her until she felt she might burst.

"She lives in Siloam Springs in west central Ohio. Forty-three years old." He paused, grimaced. "Her last known profession—barmaid."

Addison winced. A combination of disappointment and shame passed quickly through her. She knew it was a snobb
ish reaction, but she couldn't help herself. Somehow she'd expected more from her birth mother.

"So young," she said. At forty-three years of age, Agnes Beckett would have been only seventeen when she gave birth to Addison.

His expression grew concerned as he stared at her over the top of his glasses. "Are you all right? You're pale
.
"

"I'm fine," she said quickly
.
"I'm overwhelmed, excited ..
.
afraid." The words were close, but didn't completely convey everything she was feeling. She wondered if she could even begin to describe the emotions banging around inside her.

Jim continued. ''The name on your birth certificate, Glass, was also the name given to her at birth—before she was adopted."

The news jolted her
,
not because it mattered now that the search was over, but simply because such a coincidence was so unusual. "Are you saying my birth mother was also adopted?"

"At birth."

"Which means her records were sealed just like mine
.
"

"That's why you were having such a difficult time finding her."

"How did you find her?"

Leaning back in his chair, Jim smiled. "I called the doctor who delivered you. The
name of the hospital appeared on your amended birth certificate
.
"

Addison had seen the document, yet she still didn
'
t understand how Jim had managed the impossible. "But how did you get his name and address?"

"By writing to the Medical Quality Assurance Board."

She shook her head
,
feeling as though it had been something she shouldn't have overlooked. "So simple ...."

"Not simple
,
"
he corrected. "It took some doing
.
"

Her heart seemed to stop when he handed her a single sheet of paper. Quickly, she scanned the contents, knowing she was about to lose the battle with her emotions. Antici
pation clashed with uncertainty. The pain of losing her adoptive parents surfaced briefly, and Addison felt her eyes grow hot with unshed tears.

"Make the initial contact over the telephone, Addie."

Addison started at the sound of his voice and realized she'd been staring at the print, reading the name over and over.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "When you're ready, of course. And don't expect too much."

Tears blurred her vision. ''Now I'm going to embarrass myself;" she said, digging in her purse for a tissue.

He handed her a monogrammed handkerchief. "Your biological father was not named on your amended birth certificate."

"Perhaps Agnes Beckett will be able to shed some light on the identity of my birth father."

He shrugged noncommittally. "Perhaps." Shoving the file into the glossy wood cabinet behind him, he checked his watch.

That was her cue to leave. She rose on unsteady legs. "I don't know how to thank you, Jim."

Smiling, he reached for her hand and squeezed. "I hope this works out exactly the way you want it to, Addie."

She gripped his hand tightly. "I'll let you know."

* * *

Three weeks later, Addison strode through the revolving glass doors of the Dayton International Airport with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder, the keys to a rental car clutched in her hand, and the resolve to meet Agnes Beckett set firmly in her mind.

After leaving Jim's office, she'd spent the remainder of the morning trying to decide how to approach her birth mother. Later that afternoon, she'd dialed information, finally summoning enough courage to make the call that evening.

To her surprise and utter dismay, the number had been disconnected. The following day had been a marathon of tele
phone calls
—
all to no avail
.
Physically and emotionally spent, Addison had poured her heart into a letter and mailed it the next morning
.

The letter had been returned unopened two days ago
.

She'd known beforehand there was a possibility of failure
,
that she may never actually meet her birth mother. She just hadn't expected the reality of it to hit her so hard
—
or hurt so badly. A small part of her still harbored the weary hope that by some stroke of luck Agnes Beckett was still in Siloam Springs. Unable to put it aside
,
Addison left the shop in Gretchen's capable hands while she made the trip she
'
d dreamed of for nearly ten
months now.

As she pulled onto the interstate, she wondered how her birth mother would react to a face-to-face meeting
.
Would she welcome Addison's sudden appearance? Or would she refuse to see her? Would she be overjoyed? And why had the letter been returned unopened? Had she taken ill? Or had she simply moved away?

Addison considered herself mentally prepared for whatever might accost her in the hours to come. Good or bad; disappointment or fulfillment
.
She could handle it
,
she assured herself.