Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
‘Well, the odds of being hit by lightning in one’s lifetime is millions to one and yet there are people who have been hit by lightning more than once and survived to tell the tale. I think there is a guy in the U.S. who has been hit six times.’ I smile. ‘We live in a weird and wonderful world, Inspector.’
He looks pained.
I affect a concerned expression. ‘Surely you don’t think my grandmother had anything to do with my father’s disappearance?’
He ignores my question. ‘Aren’t you the sole heir of your father’s estate?’
‘I have no idea, and since I don’t believe my father is dead but is simply missing, we won’t know the contents of his will until either his body turns up, or the seven statutory years to get a declaration of presumed death is up.’
He leans forward. ‘Why are you so eager to believe your father is missing and not dead?’
‘I am his daughter. I prefer to believe that he is still alive and well somewhere. Is that so hard to understand, Mr. Stone?’
His Coke arrives. He grabs the straw between his lips and sips at it in a desultory fashion. It makes me almost feel sorry for him.
I gather my purse and my bags. ‘I should be going, but you will let me know if you find out anything at all, won’t you, Inspector?’
He smiles cynically. ‘You betcha.’
‘Well, I’ll wish you a good day then.’
‘And you’ll let me know if you find out anything at all, won’t you, Miss Evanoff?’
‘Of course. I’m just as eager to find my father as you are.’
He smiles. ‘One day, Miss Evanoff. One day you’ll make a mistake.’
I stand and smile slowly. He has no dead body and never will. He has nothing. ‘I believe in karma. If I have done anything wrong, then I will pay the full price.’
‘Good luck.’
‘Thank you, and the same to you.’ I walk away, knowing his eyes are on me and feeling no fear in my heart.
Forty-five
Tasha Abramovich
Ten Months Later
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tB54XUhA9_w
My First My Last My Everything
The nurse puts the tiny little body in my hands. I hold that tiny little life that I have created in my body and I am filled with a fierce love. Death and damnation to anyone who hurts a hair on his tiny head. As dictated by custom, Baba refused to let me talk about the name for the child. ‘It will bring the evil eye. Tell no one.’ Today is the first day I will be saying the name I have chosen for my son.
‘Oh, look how red you are, Sergei,’ I whisper. Not a day has gone by that I didn’t think, talk, or pray for my Sergei. He was ripped away from me too soon. Today I will do him the honor of naming my first born after him.
Sergei makes a tiny sound as if he recognizes his name.
The door bursts open and Noah rushes in. He stops after two steps into the room. He looks pale. His hair is mussed and his eyes are quite wild. ‘It’s all over. The baby is out. Are you all right?’ he asks urgently, his words running into each other.
‘I’m all right and it is all over,’ I say gently.
His face is a picture of guilt. ‘I missed it all.’
‘How’s your head?’ I ask, holding back the laughter.
‘It’s okay’ he replies sheepishly
I grin at him and pretend to snort. ‘Hrrmph … Big mafia hero. Hired killer. Faints at the first sight of blood.’
He stands at the doorway and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘They cut you. Nobody told me they were going to cut you. I never expected them to do that!’
My heart feels like it will burst with the love I feel for this man. ‘Come here, you big oaf, and meet your son,’ I say gruffly.
He comes forward eagerly.
‘Sit down,’ I say, and when he does I put Sergei into his large hands. It is a moment I will remember forever. Our baby fits into his cupped hands. Noah’s face softens as he looks at the magic we have created together.
‘He’s so small. Is this normal?’ he asks worriedly.
‘Excuse me. Try pushing him out of your cock then tell me he’s small,’ I retort.
He flushes a deep red.
Immediately my heart goes out to him. He is so Russian when it comes to pregnancies and babies. Utterly lost and baffled. ‘He is eight pounds and two ounces. That’s a good size,’ I tell him reassuringly.
Sergei moves his head and yawns a gummy, healthy yawn. Awwww, my son just yawned.
‘Did you see that? He yawned,’ Noah says excitedly.
We look at each other, both of us so deeply in love with the little person we have created we have become foolish with it.
He takes a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry I … er … fainted.’