“I don’t know the exact day,” she admitted. “I was found abandoned on December twelfth.”
Arthur’s world stopped. December 12th. The exact date of the crash. The date he had buried his wife and their unborn child.
“Come with me,” he said suddenly, grabbing her elbow. The rage was gone, replaced by a frantic urgency.
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Anna tried to pull away. “Give me back my locket!”
“I’ll pay you.” Arthur pulled out his wallet and threw a stack of bills onto a nearby table without looking. “I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars just to talk to me. Ten minutes. Forty thousand if you come right now.”
The entire restaurant held its breath. Anna looked at the scattered bills, then into the pleading eyes of the city’s wealthiest man.
“Fifty thousand,” she said, her heart hammering in her chest. “And you give me the locket back when we’re done.”
“Deal.”
Arthur turned to the manager, who was still cowering in a corner.
“Mark, I need a private room, and I don’t want to be disturbed. If anyone so much as knocks, you’re finished.”
Without waiting for a reply, Arthur steered Anna down a private hallway. As they walked, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number with trembling fingers.
“Dr. Evans, it’s Blackwood. Get to the Skyline restaurant right now. Bring a kit for an immediate DNA test. Yes, you heard me. Drop whatever you’re doing and come. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Arthur slid the deadbolt on the private room door, the metallic click echoing like a gunshot in the small space. He turned, a sheen of cold sweat on his forehead, and gestured to a black leather sofa.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
Anna remained standing, her back pressed against the wall, her breathing heavy.
“You said you just wanted to talk,” she countered, keeping her distance. “Open the door. I want my fifty thousand, and I want to leave.”
Arthur ignored her. He loosened his tie as if it were choking him and began to pace the room like a caged animal.
“You’ll get your money when the doctor is finished,” he said, not looking at her. “Now talk. You said you were found on December 12th. What time?”
“I don’t know,” Anna replied, watching his every move. “I was a baby. How would I know the time?”
Arthur stopped abruptly and moved toward her, invading her personal space. Anna could see the veins bulging in his neck.
“What did the nuns tell you?” he pressed, his voice tight. “They must have told you something. Nobody just appears out of thin air. Who brought you there?”
Anna hesitated. She hated talking about her past, about the story that defined her as an unwanted child, but the fear this man inspired compelled her to answer.
“Sister Mary told me it was late. Early morning. It was raining hard.”
“A storm,” Arthur corrected in a whisper. “There was a terrible storm that night. Go on.”
“Someone rang the bell at the children’s home,” Anna continued, looking down. “When the sister opened the door, there was no one there, just a bundle on the steps, wrapped in a dirty, wet man’s jacket.”
Arthur grabbed Anna by the shoulders, his grip tight.
“A jacket! What kind of jacket?”
“You’re hurting me!” Anna cried, pushing him away.
Arthur immediately let go, raising his hands, though his eyes burned with a feverish intensity.
“I’m sorry. Please, continue.”
“It was a leather jacket,” Anna said, rubbing her arms. “Old, smelled like tobacco and motor oil. The sister said it looked like something a drifter or a mechanic would wear.”
“A mechanic…” Arthur closed his eyes for a moment. His mind raced back 23 years. There were no mechanics in his circle, but the crash had happened on a mountain road in the Appalachians. Anyone could have been passing through. “And the locket?” he asked, opening his eyes again.
“It was inside the jacket. I was wearing it,” Anna said, touching her bare neck. “It was tied in a double knot, really tight, like someone was afraid it would fall off. Sister Mary kept it in a safe until I turned eighteen. She said it was my only inheritance.”
A loud knock on the door interrupted them.
“Open up!” Dr. Evans’s voice called out. “Arthur, it’s me.”
Arthur yanked the door open. Dr. Evans, a gray-haired man with thick-rimmed glasses, hurried in carrying a medical bag. Behind him, Mark the manager tried to peer inside, but Arthur slammed the door in his face.
“What in God’s name is going on, Art?” Evans asked, out of breath. “Why the urgency? Are you hurt?”
“I need a DNA test,” Arthur said, pointing to Anna. “Right now. I want a direct paternity comparison.”
Dr. Evans looked from the waitress to the tycoon and finally let out a disbelieving chuckle.
“Paternity? Arthur, have you been drinking? It’s been twenty-three years since…”
“Just do it!” Blackwood roared, grabbing the doctor by his lapels. “She has Eleanor’s locket. She was wearing it!”
A silence fell over the room. Dr. Evans paled and looked at Anna with new eyes, analyzing her features with professional astonishment.
“Good Lord…” Evans murmured. “The eyes! She has her eyes!”
“Stop staring and get the samples!” Arthur ordered, pushing him toward the sofa.
Evans opened his bag with trembling hands, taking out two sterile swabs and vials.
“Please have a seat, miss,” the doctor said in a gentle voice.
Anna perched on the edge of the sofa, tense.
“I want my money first,” she said, looking at Arthur. “Fifty thousand, now.”
Arthur took out a checkbook and a gold pen, scribbled the amount, and signed it with a flourish. He tore out the check and placed it on the table.
“Seventy-five thousand,” he said. “For the trouble. Now open your mouth.”
Anna took the check, verified the amount, and tucked it into her apron pocket. Then she opened her mouth.
Dr. Evans swabbed the inside of her cheek and placed the sample in a vial. He did the same with Arthur a moment later.
“How long will this take?”
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