Read Perfect Victim, The for Free Online

"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