Arthur asked, pocketing his own vial.
“If I wake up my lab tech and pay him triple…” Evans calculated, glancing at his watch. “About four hours. But, Art, don’t get your hopes up. Coincidences happen. Grief can make us see things that aren’t there.”
“Just get it to the lab,” Arthur said, ignoring the warning. “I’ll stay here with her.”
“What?” Anna jumped up. “No, the deal was for the test, that’s it. I have to go, I have another job in the morning.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Arthur said, blocking the exit with his body. “If you are who I think you are, you’ll never scrub another floor in your life. And if you’re not—I need to know how you got that locket.”
“This is kidnapping!” Anna cried, fumbling for her phone in her pocket. “I’m calling the police.”
Arthur snatched the phone from her hand before she could unlock it.
“Call whoever you want when I have the results,” he said coldly. “Until then, you’re my guest.”
“I’m your prisoner,” Anna corrected, tears of frustration in her eyes.
Arthur didn’t deny it. He turned to Dr. Evans.
“Go. Call me the second the machine is done. Not a minute later.”
The doctor nodded, gave the girl a pitying look, and hurried out of the room. Arthur locked the door again and sat in an armchair opposite Anna, crossing his legs.
“Now,” he said, his eyes boring into hers, “tell me more about the man in the leather jacket. I want to know everything.”
Arthur didn’t take Anna to a police station, but to his penthouse apartment in the heart of the city. The ride was silent and tense. Upon arrival, security guards confiscated Anna’s phone and locked down the private elevator.
“No one in or out,” Arthur ordered the head of security. “If she tries to leave, stop her, but don’t harm her.”
Anna stood in the middle of the enormous living room, which looked more like a museum than a home, her arms crossed.
“This is illegal,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve abducted me.”
“You’re in protective custody until that phone rings,” Arthur replied, gesturing to his cell on the glass coffee table. “Sit down.”
Before Anna could argue, the elevator doors opened again. A tall man in an immaculate suit carrying a leather briefcase strode in. It was Sterling, the Blackwood family’s personal attorney.
“Arthur, have you lost your mind?” Sterling blurted out without a greeting. “The manager from the restaurant called me. He said you’ve taken an employee. Do you have any idea what kind of scandal this will cause?”
“Shut up, Sterling,” Arthur said without turning around. “Sit down and wait.”
The lawyer looked at Anna with disdain, his eyes scanning her from head to toe.
“This is her?” Sterling asked with a sneer. “The girl with the locket? Art, this is a classic shakedown. Someone researched your past, bought a replica at a pawn shop, and put this girl in your path.”
“I’m not a fraud!” Anna shouted, taking a step toward the lawyer. “And the locket is real.”
“Oh, is it?” Sterling gave a dry laugh. “And how do you explain a waitress having a piece of jewelry worth half a million dollars? Who’s paying you? Your competitors?”
“Nobody is paying me!” Anna turned to Arthur. “Let me call the children’s home. Let me call Sister Mary. She’ll tell you. She saw the man who left me there.”
Arthur looked from his lawyer to Anna.
“Do it,” he said, handing her phone back. “Put it on speaker.”
Anna dialed the number with shaking hands. After three rings, an elderly voice answered.
“St. Mary’s Home, this is Sister Mary.”
“It’s me, Anna,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m… I’m in some trouble. I need you to tell some people how I came to the home. Please, it’s a matter of life and death.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“Anna, what’s wrong, child? Are you hurt?”
“Just tell them about the night I was found, please.”
Arthur leaned over the table, listening intently.
“It was twenty-three years ago,” the nun’s voice began, crackling over the speakerphone. “The night of the storm, December twelfth. We heard the bell. When I opened the door, no one was there, just a basket with a baby inside, wrapped in a huge leather jacket.”
“Did you see anyone?” Arthur interrupted sharply.
“Who is that man?” the nun asked, alarmed.
“Answer the question,” Blackwood commanded.
“I saw… a shadow,” Sister Mary admitted. “A man running toward an old pickup truck. He was limping, looked like he was hurt. He shouted something before he drove off.”
“What did he shout?”
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