Stranger on the Shore

by Josh Lanyon

  “I wasn’t invited.” Pierce’s smile was wry. “Anyway, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Griff’s face warmed. “I’m fine. It was just low blood sugar.”

  “It was a panic attack,” Pierce said. “And obviously not your first, since you’re taking it in stride.”

  “Familiar with panic attacks, are you?”

  “I’ve seen a few in my day. The legal system will do that to some people.”

  Griff shrugged. “Actually, it was an anxiety attack. I used to get them as a kid. I haven’t had one in years.” Not since he came to Winden House. Yet another sign that getting out of here as soon as possible was a great idea.

  “Night terrors and anxiety attacks,” Pierce observed. “You must have had an interesting childhood. And no doctors.”

  “Do you have a point?”

  “I’m sure there is a point, even if I haven’t figured it out yet.” Pierce surveyed the room, taking in Griff’s closed laptop on the dining room table. “Are you abandoning the book?”

  “Well, thanks for dropping by,” Griff said, opening the door again. “Let’s do this again soon.” That was bravado, trying to prove something to himself, because the sad fact was he didn’t want Pierce to leave. Even after discovering what an asshole Pierce was, he didn’t want him to go.

  Pierce pushed the door shut with unusual force. “All right. I know you’re still angry with me. I’m not always a nice guy. But we’re on the same side now.”

  Griff sputtered a laugh. “How do you figure that?”

  Pierce’s eyes were dark with emotion. “Do you think that’s Brian Arlington sitting up there at the dinner table right now?”

  Griff hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “I do. No way in hell is that Brian.”

  “Yeah, but you always think that, Pierce.”

  Pierce snorted. “And I’m always right. And I’m right this time too.”

  “Based on what?” Griff wasn’t sure if his impatience was for Pierce or himself for privately agreeing with Pierce. “He looks like an Arlington. He’s got those eyebrows and those blue eyes. He’s got Tiny Teddy.”

  “You look like an Arlington. Dark eyebrows with blond hair are not that rare.”

  “Is he willing to take a DNA paternity test?”

  Pierce’s face changed. “He said he’ll think about it. Jarrett says no.”

  “What? Why?”

  Pierce shook his head. It was the first time Griff had ever seen him look so...dispirited. “Because Jarrett wants to believe,” Pierce said wearily. “He’s convinced his time is running out, and he wants to live long enough to see Brian come home. Even if he has to accept an imposter.”

  “Jarrett never said that.”

  “No, but that’s what it amounts to. He’s been disappointed so many times, he’s not willing to risk it again. He swears this is Brian. That he can feel it’s Brian.”

  That shook Griff. “Maybe it is Brian.”

  Pierce shook his head. “It’s not. I would know if he was Brian.”

  Griff considered this. Considered Diana’s poignant revelations over their lunch together. If anything, he’d expect Pierce to leap at the chance of accepting Brian was safely returned. Wouldn’t that be a huge burden of guilt lifted from his shoulders?

  He asked slowly, “How would you know? How would your feelings, your instinct be any more reliable than Brian’s family?”

  The line of Pierce’s jaw was stubborn. You could break a fleet of warships against that jawline. “I think I would feel something for him. I think I would feel some sense of recognition.”

  Griff shook his head. “Come on, Pierce. More than his own flesh and blood? That’s illogical. Besides, Brian was four years old. What is it you think you would remember or recognize? And how do you explain Tiny Teddy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If he’s willing to take a DNA test—”

  “Being willing to think about it is not the same thing as taking the test.”

  True. Brian could indefinitely stall that test, especially if the only one pushing for it was Pierce, and that seemed to be the case from what he’d observed in the drawing room. Okay, Chloe would probably think a paternity test was a great idea. She wasn’t too thrilled with recent developments. But Chloe was so hostile to Michaela that her resistance to Brian might stem solely from Michaela’s acceptance.

  Griff said, “The others believe it’s Brian too.”

  “I know.” Pierce gnawed on his lip. “That’s what really puzzles me. Jarrett, I understand. Finding Brian has been a lifelong crusade. But the others...they’ve always believed Brian was dead. Hell, Gemma believed Brian was dead. They’ve always rejected the other imposters out of hand.”

  “She said she knew she’d never see him again. That’s not necessarily the same thing.”

  Pierce looked at him in puzzlement. Griff said, “I’ve read Gemma’s journal. In fact, I’ve practically memorized the months following Brian’s kidnapping. She never actually used the word dead.”

  If anything Pierce looked more perplexed, and Griff said awkwardly, “Not that that really means anything. In fact, now I’m not sure what my point was.”

  Pierce turned to the arched window and stared out at the bluing twilight. “Do you think that’s Brian up at the house?” He turned from the window and stared at Griff.

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe.”

  “Do you?”

  Griff sighed. “No.”

  Pierce smiled. It was not one of his more pleasant smiles. “Good. I want you to help me prove he’s a fake.”

  He was serious. “One of us is crazy,” Griff said. “He bears a striking resemblance to you.”

  “You’re an investigative journalist, right? This is what you do?”

  The image of Pierce shouting at him in his office that afternoon returned to Griff. He said shortly, “Is it?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “In case you didn’t notice, I’m about to be chucked out of here on my ear.”

  “I noticed,” Pierce said. “Brian can’t get you out of here fast enough, which is something else I find suspicious.”

  “Not so long ago you couldn’t get me out of here fast enough. Why the sudden change?”

  Pierce shrugged. “I have changed. Isn’t that good enough?”

  “Not really. No.”

  “All right. I’ll be honest. You didn’t add up. You still don’t add up. But I accept that your intentions are sincere. And I’ve got bigger problems than you right now.”

  “Jeez. Thanks!”

  Pierce’s expression altered, seemed almost to soften. “You had a panic attack over a teddy bear,” he said. “If you think that doesn’t set off a few alarm bells, think again. But you—”

  “It wasn’t over Tiny Teddy,” Griff interrupted. “It was an anxiety attack over them pulling the plug on my project. That’s all. I’ve worked hard on this.”

  “Exactly,” Pierce said smoothly. “Why should all the time and hard work you’ve put in be wasted? You’ve devoted how much time to this story already? You probably know more about Brian and his case than anyone. There is no one better positioned to check out this Leland Alvin’s background.”

  Griff regarded Pierce grimly. “Why?” he asked finally. “Why do you care so much? If it makes Jarrett happy, if it makes them all happy to believe this guy is Brian, then what does it matter? You can’t really believe some outdated bullshit about aristocratic bloodlines and rules of inheritance?”

  “Bullshit?” Pierce raised his brows. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before. You really are the budding young Marxist, aren’t you?”

  “Answer me.”

  Pierce looked away. Griff thought he wasn’t goi
ng to reply, but then he said, quietly, “There are things I would undo if I could. But I can’t. One thing, the only thing, I can do for Brian is to make sure no one...takes his place.”

  It touched Griff more than he expected. He said, “Pierce, wherever Brian is, it doesn’t matter to him. He doesn’t care.”

  “It matters to me.” Pierce’s voice was gruff. He drew a deep breath. “So. Are you in or out?”

  Good question. Which was it? If he sided with Pierce in this matter, he would lose any chance of Jarrett supporting him over Stranger on the Shore. But that ship had probably sailed anyway, given Brian’s—Leland’s—opposition to the book.

  Regardless of the outcome, this investigation would make a great story. This could provide the focal point he had been looking for but failed to find when he’d interviewed Johnson. But that wasn’t really the main thing anymore.

  The main thing was, while in theory it shouldn’t matter if the Arlingtons were happy believing Leland was Brian, in practice it bothered Griff very much that—if Leland was a fake—he was taking advantage of Jarrett’s longing for his lost grandchild. He was fond of Jarrett and he didn’t want him used by someone that criminal, that callous, that cold-blooded.

  Pierce was still watching him with that narrow-eyed intensity.

  Griff said, “Where do we start?”

  * * *

  “How do you think he got hold of Tiny Teddy?” Griff asked.

  He and Pierce had settled in the kitchen of the guest cottage. Griff had found fixings for chicken and mushroom hash in the well-stocked fridge, throwing together a quick meal while they talked over their plan of attack. Now they were eating and making notes.

  Pierce took a bite, chewed, swallowed, said, “First of all, there’s nothing to say that bear was Tiny Teddy.”

  “I’m sure it was.” Pierce gave him an odd look. These days he was getting that look a lot from Pierce. Griff qualified, “Going by the photos I’ve seen.”

  “Someone else could have gone by the same photos and made a toy bear to resemble Tiny Teddy. It wouldn’t be that difficult.”

  “I don’t ever recall seeing a public photo of Brian’s teddy bear, so you’re talking about someone on the inside helping Leland.”

  Pierce’s expression was serious, unsmiling. “Yes. I think so. Don’t you?”

  It was a relief to hear Pierce say it aloud. Until then Griff had wondered if he wasn’t letting his imagination once again overrule his common sense.

  “I want to show you something.” Griff left the table and went upstairs. He dug in the back of the closet and pulled out the broken board he had hidden there. He carried the board downstairs.

  “I found this in the lower pond the night after the center of the bridge gave way.”

  Pierce examined the sawn edge of the board while Griff filled him in on his theory the bridge had been sabotaged. He told him about the strange phone call he’d received that same night.

  “You didn’t think you should maybe mention this to someone?” Pierce’s black brows formed that straight and forbidding line.

  “Like who?”

  “Like me.”

  “You?” Griff laughed. “No. I didn’t.”

  “The hell.” Pierce looked offended.

  “There’s no way to call through to this cottage except from the main house, which means someone from the main house was trying to scare me off. No way were you going to side with me against anyone from the main house, especially since you wanted me gone too.”

  “Wait a minute.” Pierce put down the board. “You think I would be a knowing party to threats and harassment? Never mind an act of vandalism that could have resulted in serious injury or death?”

  “Now you’re exaggerating.”

  “The hell I am. You could have broken your neck or your back falling through that bridge. I’m not saying that was the intent, but it sure wasn’t anyone’s concern either.” He seemed genuinely disturbed.

  “Okay, well, I didn’t know you then,” Griff said. “I didn’t think you were down here actually sawing through planks, but it did go through my mind that maybe you conveniently showed up in time to make sure I didn’t drown.”

  Pierce’s jaw dropped. “You think I’m capable of that, but you’re high and mightily pissed off because I dared to do some checking up on you?”

  “I’m still pissed off, so I wouldn’t bring that up if I were you.”

  Pierce shook his head, still disbelieving. After a moment he picked up his fork and impaled another bite of mushroom and potato. “Letting that go for the moment, here’s as much of the story as Alvin has deigned to share so far. He believes, but isn’t completely sure because his memory has gaps and it was a long time ago, that he climbed out of bed and wandered away the night of the party.”

  “Does he remember—” Griff stopped.

  “Does he remember what?”

  He shook his head. He had nearly asked if Alvin remembered Pierce forcing him to go back to his room, but he wasn’t sure if he had been told that in confidence. Either way it was liable to be a sensitive topic.

  Pierce went on. “He says he was struck by a car, and had no idea who he really was until a couple of years ago.”

  “Amnesia? Come on. He couldn’t come up with anything better than that?”

  Pierce lifted one shoulder disparagingly. “Amnesia. Repressed memory.”

  “False memory?”

  “Vivid imagination?”

  Griff made a disbelieving sound. “There’s no way it could have happened like that. Not given the manhunt that was underway. No Jonnie Doe in the tristate area could have been hospitalized around that time without it sending up flags.”

  “Agreed. But his story is vague enough that it’s hard to disprove. He thinks the hospital he was taken to was Sister of Mercy, which has been closed for eighteen years after being gutted by fire. He grew up in foster care, but he’s not ready to talk about it. He’s hinted at horrific abuse.”

  “What if it’s true?” Griff said uneasily.

  “It’s not true. I don’t buy it for one minute. It’s a carefully calculated cover story. The facts either can’t be corroborated or he’s devised compelling reasons why no one would dare to push for corroboration.” Pierce pushed his empty plate aside. “That was tasty, by the way. You’re a good cook.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. I know my way around a frying pan.”

  “Have you been on your own a long time?”

  Griff said coolly, “Stick to unmasking one imposter at a time, Pierce.”

  He was surprised at the disconcerted look Pierce threw him. In fact, just for an instant, Pierce looked hurt. Or maybe that was what Griff wanted to see. Griff said, “Where’s he been living up till now?”

  Pierce smiled. “I did manage to get the address out of Jarrett. Alvin claims he’s an artist of some kind working in upstate New York.”

  “If he got his memory back a couple of years ago, why didn’t he come forward?”

  “I asked the same thing. You should appreciate this. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the whole filthy rich lifestyle. He’s an artist, you understand.”

  That gave Griff pause. “Like Gemma.”

  “You’re being too generous. But he claims to be a free spirit. He needs his space. He needs the right vibrations. He wasn’t sure there was any point introducing himself to his long lost family because if they aren’t the right kind of people, he doesn’t plan on hanging around.”

  Griff mulled this over. “Meaning if they’re the kind of people who dare to question his story, he won’t stay? If that isn’t emotional blackmail, I don’t know what is.”

  Pierce’s gaze was approving. “That’s my take too. He’s not subtle. In fact, he laid it on with a trowel. For instance, seeing that his
family gave up so easily on finding him, he just wasn’t sure he really belonged here anyway.”

  “Did he actually say that?”

  “He did. He used to cry himself to sleep every night in his little bed at the orphanage wondering why his real parents didn’t come for him.”

  Griff swallowed. Pierce’s tone was scathing, but Griff had a sudden awful memory of doing the same thing. Well, not exactly the same thing. But he remembered being haunted by the feeling he didn’t belong, that his real mother and father were out there somewhere. He vividly recalled his mother slapping him—one of the few times she’d struck him—for saying she wasn’t his real mother.

  Apparently it was a perfectly ordinary thing for kids to say when they were unhappy or angry, but his mother had been devastated. She had quirks like that. She was so independent, so self-reliant, but then some totally offbeat thing could knock her flat, literally send her rocking herself in a corner.

  “You listening?” Pierce asked.

  “Yes.”

  “He’s got Jarrett’s psychological composite down cold. The funny thing is even five years ago Jarrett would have insisted on confirmation, corroboration. Hell, even three years ago he’d have demanded proof.”

  “Maybe he senses Brian is telling the truth.”

  “He’s not telling the truth. On top of all that, he was shrewd enough to contact Jarrett directly rather than go through me.”

  “You can’t blame him for that. If I’d been able to figure out a way to reach Jarrett without going through you, I’d have done the same thing.”

  This seemed to sting Pierce. He laid his pen down. “If you’ll notice, I did pass your information on to Jarrett. If I was the complete bastard you seem to think I am, I wouldn’t have done that.”

  “True. I guess. You didn’t think there was a chance in a million Jarrett would consider talking to me.”

  Pierce’s grin was reluctant. “True.”

  “So that’s only partial credit.” Griff pushed his plate away and finished typing in his notes. “Okay. I’m going to get out of here early tomorrow before anyone can officially ask me to leave. I’ll drive up to...” He checked his notes “Ilion. Wherever that is.”