“Let me ask you something,” he said evenly. “What exactly gives you the right to speak to me like that? On what legal basis are you refusing a visit? I’m asking a reasonable question.”
The director bristled. “I get people like you all the time. You expect me to hand children over to anyone who walks in off the street? If you want something, perhaps learn how to speak to people.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re the one asking me for a favor. And my schedule is full, so the door is right behind you.” Eugene left the office furious.
It was obvious enough what she meant by “how to speak to people.” But one fact drowned out everything else: the child’s last name was Klimov.
That had been Natalie’s last name. Which explained how the watch had ended up with the girl. Eugene slapped a hand against the steering wheel.
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered. “Private investigators exist for a reason. They can find anything. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?”
“And while I’m at it, I need to call in a favor from a county official. I recently did excellent work for his wife. Maybe he can lean on that director and help Katie with the adoption process. And maybe get me permission to see Sophie.”
He wasted no time. Between surgeries, he hired a top private investigation firm.
It paid off quickly. Within a week he got a call asking him to come in. The investigators handed him a thick file.
“This contains everything we could find on Natalie Klimov,” they told him. “Pay special attention to the contact information for her former neighbor, Tonya. By all accounts, they were close.”
“If you’d like, we can accompany you.” Eugene swallowed hard and shook his head.
“Thank you. I’ll handle this part myself.” He remembered Tonya well enough—the freckled friend who was always around.
He dropped everything and drove straight to the address. A heavyset woman in a stained apron and hair rollers answered the door. Somewhere deeper in the apartment, several children were crying, and the place smelled strongly of fried onions.
Eugene was so thrown by her appearance that he didn’t recognize her at first. “Excuse me,” he said. “Are you Antonia Mays?” The woman burst out laughing.
“Gene, have you gone blind? It’s me—Tonya. Yeah, I put on some weight after triplets. It happens. Come on in.”
“What brings a big-shot surgeon to my little corner of the world? I’ve heard all about you. Local celebrity now, right?” His voice came out low and strained.
“Tonya, can we skip the small talk? Tell me what happened to Natalie. After that fight, she disappeared. I used every connection I had and never found her.”
“All these years later, she’s still with me. You know how serious we were. If you know anything—anything at all—please tell me. And I heard she had a daughter. Is that true?” Tonya’s face changed at once.
“You’re late, Gene,” she said quietly. “Natalie’s been gone about six years now. Life can be cruel that way.”
“I never knew exactly what happened between you two. She didn’t tell me much. But one day she quit her job, packed her things, and showed up at my place with a suitcase. She stayed only a few minutes.”
“I was shocked. I begged her to slow down and think, but she was crying too hard to hear me. She said, ‘I can’t stay. They threatened me. Please forget I was here.’”
“Then she handed me an envelope and said, ‘Keep this for me. If things calm down, I’ll come back for it. It’s really for Gene.’”…
