The Last Daughter (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) by Jessica Ferguson Page A

was gone. He shrugged and eased down the hall.
    Last door on the left, the old guy had told him. Every door he passed had some kind of faded decoration. Not the door on the left. Standing in front of it, he knocked. No one answered. Knocking again, he flinched when a gruff voice yelled, “What the hell you want?”
    Trent turned the knob and entered.

Chapter 8
    Rayna was pouring a cup of coffee when Trent burst through the back door. She jumped. “Goodness, you scared me. Where’ve you been? What’s wrong? ”
    “Did you hear the ambulance?”
    “Yes, it sounded pretty close.” She turned to face him.
    “It was the woman I questioned yesterday.”
    “What are you talking about? What woman?”
    He looked around the kitchen. She knew he was searching for Tiva.
    “I left Tiva in my bedroom, Trent. I hate what’s happening between us. We need to get things out in the open. But first, tell me what woman and why you were questioning her.”
    He rubbed his hand across his face. “I asked around the neighborhood to learn something about who lived in this house.”
    “And what did you find?”
    “We need to talk.” His eyes looked wild, his hair was mussed. “That was one of the neighbors I spoke with. Someone broke into her house and roughed her up pretty bad. She’s unconscious.”
    “Oh no, the poor woman. I hope she’ll be okay,” Rayna answered. “Do you think it was theft? They probably didn’t know anyone was home when they broke inside.”
    “Oh, I think they did. In fact, I think it was a warning.”
    She gripped the Kensington pearl coffee mug tightly. “Trent, no. Why would you think such a thing?”
    “Because of my questions.”
    “I won’t believe it. Her beating can’t have anything to do with who lived here. Or me.”
    “I believe it does, Rayna, because I was able to give her a name...” He hesitated.
    She stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
    “I found something.” He put his hands on her arms. “Rayna, I found your birth certificate.”
    Her favorite cup with the platinum-edged band fell to the floor and shattered between them. She was barely aware of the crashing sound or the hot liquid splattering her blue-jeaned legs.
    “Where? When?” she asked.
    He maneuvered her to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. “Sit. Please.”
    She did, her body stiff and tense.
    “You’re not going to be happy with me, but I swear I did it for your own good.”
    “Did what? What did you do?” Her voice held a hint of hysteria and she tried to control herself. She swallowed, cleared her throat. “What?” she repeated.
    “When I found your birth certificate, I went to see your father.”
    She stood from the table. “You found my father?”
    “Yes. Once I had a name—”
    “You had no right, Trent. Not without me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
    He grabbed her arms. She yanked away from him. “I had to know and now look, an old woman has been beaten up because of it.”
    She looked at him in horror. “That’s ridiculous. It was a burglary or something. I want to see my father. I can’t believe you did this, Trent. And I can’t believe you’d think he’d hurt that old woman.”
    “I did it for you, Rayna. Now, listen to me.” He grabbed her arms again. “He’s angry; he’s bitter. In fact, he’s mean through and through.”
    She pulled away from him. “I want to see him now. Where is he?”
    “Sit down and listen or I swear I won’t tell you one more word.”
    She ground her teeth together and stubbornly sat. She crossed her arms across her mid-section and glared at him.
    “With your parents’ names, I was able to go around the neighborhood and ask questions. Mrs. Parker, the old woman in the two story brick behind us, told me your father is in a private assisted living place a few blocks from here. It’s a pretty eerie place.”
    “All places like that are sad and eerie. Pray you never end up in one.”
    He ignored her comment. “He’s in a wheel chair