Her Sister's Keeper. Julia Penney

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СКАЧАТЬ told us that your sister had a lot of male friends,” he said, glancing at her, “and that you hadn’t spoken to her in six months, but maybe you could tell me a bit more about who the father of her baby was? Who knows? It might give us some clues to help us find her.”

      His tone was casual, but Melanie felt the anxious knot form in her stomach again, even as a voice within whispered, Tell him. Tell him everything.

      She wanted to. She sensed that Dr. Mattson knew she was withholding information. His long silences had been filled with the loudest unspoken questions that Melanie had ever endured. She bit her lower lip and stared out at the thinning blur of traffic as they sped away from the city. The irony of this situation was not lost on her. What she couldn’t, wouldn’t, talk about in Dr. Mattson’s office was no longer her secret to keep. Not as long as Ariel and the baby were missing. She drew a painful breath and released it slowly.

      “The father was Mitch Carson, and he was my fiancé.”

      AS KENT DROVE DOWN Blackstone’s private drive, access to which had been ensured by Melanie’s obvious acquaintance with the security guard stationed at the gatehouse, he was struck by how isolated and unique this property was. He liked the way the natural beauty of the place had been allowed to flourish, an unusual sight amidst this obsessive modern culture of manicuring every blade of grass.

      He also liked the way Melanie had begun to open up to him, talking about her fiancé, her sister and her wedding day. It hadn’t been easy for her to broach the subject, but once she started, the words came faster and faster, tumbling out in a rush to release all the pent-up emotions of the past six months. When she had finished, she slumped back in her seat with a dazed look, as if she couldn’t quite believe she’d finally confronted the demons of her past. For the last five minutes she’d been silent, gazing out the window. Kent was glad for the break in conversation. It gave him a few moments to process her revelations and how they may or may not be connected to the day’s events.

      “That’s the guest cottage,” Melanie said, rousing as he rounded a curve and a simple gabled dwelling tucked in a grove of eucalyptus trees came into view. “The mansion’s on top of the ledges, another quarter of a mile beyond here.” She sat up straighter. “Look, the door’s open. Maybe Victor’s inside. If you’ll stop here, Dr. Mattson, I’ll go check.”

      Kent parked the unmarked police car and followed her to the cottage. The spicy sweet scent of the rose bushes lining the brick path mingled with the salty Pacific air. Grapevines adorned both sides of the arbored entry and a purple wisteria twined against the shingled outer walls. Six o’clock in the afternoon, and the sun’s rays were strong and golden, spilling into this small Tudor-style cottage as Melanie pushed the door completely open.

      “Victor?” she called out as she entered. “Vic?”

      Kent stepped over the threshold and into the dim coolness that smelled faintly of cedar paneling, leather and wood smoke. He stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the lower light level, then followed Melanie into the living room, which was dominated by a beautiful fieldstone fireplace, the old andirons still cradling several half-burned logs. Built-in bookshelves lined both sides of the fireplace, and comfortable leather furnishings and a braided rug complemented the restful feel of the cozy space.

      “We used to live here, Ariel and I,” Melanie murmured, looking around.

      “For how long?”

      “Three years.” Melanie walked to the bookshelves and scanned the titles. “Victor offered it to me a few months after I began working for him. He knew I was struggling to raise my sister and having a hard time making ends meet on a gofer’s pay. We lived here until Ariel landed her first big movie role and Victor’s wife had a few too many glasses of sherry and came here to tell us she thought it was high time we moved on.” Melanie glanced at him with a wry smile. “I never told Victor that the reason we left was because his wife was jealous of Ariel. At the time I thought that was ludicrous. Ariel was only nineteen. She was still just a baby…or so I thought.”

      Kent followed Melanie up the narrow stairs, where four doors opened onto the landing. The first room Melanie looked in was big, with a queen-size antique sleigh bed and two dormer windows framing an ocean view over the treetops. “This used to be my room,” she said. “At night, with the windows open, I could hear the waves pounding against the Blackstone ledges.”

      The bedroom was simply furnished and uncluttered. There was one framed picture atop the bureau, which Melanie studied for a few silent moments before turning away abruptly. Kent glanced at the photograph, a high quality black and white of a lean, athletic man on a Harley wearing an arrogant grin, leather pants and a dark T-shirt. Arms like Sylvester Stallone’s and features reminiscent of a young and virile Marlon Brando.

      Melanie drifted out of the room and into the corridor. Kent followed as she passed a second door that opened onto a tiny bath. He glanced inside. Old-fashioned porcelain sink with brass bistro fixtures, small claw-foot tub, vintage pull-chain toilet. Everything clean and neat as a pin. A third door opened onto a smaller bedroom. “This was Ariel’s room,” Melanie said, stepping inside and looking around. “The wisteria vine growing against the cottage was so thick and strong that she’d climb down it like a monkey and spend the night raising hell with her friends. Ariel hated school, and couldn’t have cared less about her grades. It’s a wonder they graduated her.”

      Melanie paused outside the fourth door off the landing. “This used to be what we called the study, but Ariel never used it for studying.” She was still smiling as she swung the door inward. She gasped and froze, hand still on the doorknob. Kent glanced over her shoulder and saw a charming nursery, painted in pale pastels, complete with a crib, baby toys and a changing table. A tiny writing desk set beneath the window and a day bed completed the furnishings. “Stephanie must have been wrong. Ariel did come back,” she said, gazing around the small space. “I knew she’d been trying to work things out with Mitch before he was killed. She must have hoped he’d move in with her here and help raise the baby.”

      “What?” Kent burst out. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you tell Captain Murphy that your sister lived in Beverly Hills?”

      “Yes. That’s true. She has an apartment there which she loves, but according to Stephanie, Victor offered the guest cottage to Ariel a few months before the baby was born. Stephanie told me she didn’t take him up on his offer, but she was obviously wrong.”

      Kent stared, first at Melanie, then back at the baby things. He had to restrain himself from cursing aloud. “So you’re telling me your missing sister might have been living here?”

      Melanie shook her head, puzzled. “It doesn’t really look like they were living here. I mean, there are no personal belongings, just that damn picture of Mitch and a nursery that looks as if it’s never been used. I’m sure Victor would have told me if Ariel had moved in.”

      Kent stood beside her, analyzing every detail of the small room. The entire cottage had an empty feel to it, and this room was no exception. Even the desktop was bare, although… Kent spotted the small, cream-colored envelope propped against the base of the table lamp at the same time as Melanie did and they crossed the room together. On the face of the envelope, in a childlike scrawl, a name had been written and underlined twice.

      Mel

      Kent heard Melanie’s sharp intake of breath. “Oh, СКАЧАТЬ