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

because of a spinal injury.”
    “Oh, no.” Tears threatened to fall. She clenched her teeth together to stifle the sob in her throat. Her poor father. Could that have been why he gave her up, sent her away? Because he had some debilitating disease? She had always suspected there’d been a good reason. Guilt speared her heart. All these years, she could have helped him. Been there for him.
    “Where’s my birth certificate? What’s my name?” Her words came out in a whisper.
    Trent left the room and came back with an envelope. He handed it to her.
    “Rayna Mudwing. I’m Rayna Mudwing. The family I lived with said Rayna wasn’t my real name. Raymond and Rosalie Mudwing. Three ’Rs. Like a real family.’”
    Trent sat down at the table. “The only reason I went to see him is because I wanted to be sure he couldn’t hurt you.”
    “That’s not your business, Trent. It never was. But are you satisfied he can’t?” Her voice held a slight edge.
    “No, I’m not. He’s a mean, uncaring man, as you’ll see for yourself. I told him about you and about the doll, and he went berserk. Started yelling for someone named Person. A big, gray-haired woman came in and forced me to leave. She’s as scary as he is.”
    She stood. “Oh, Trent, what have you done? You may have ruined it for me. Tell me where he is. I’m going.”
    He looked at his watch.
    “I don’t care what time it is. You can’t stop me. I’m going.”
    He nodded and motioned to her coffee-stained jeans. “Get changed. I’ll drive you.”
    ****
    Trent paced at the foot of the stairs. Was he doing the right thing? Should he contact someone to be with them? But who would he contact? A doctor? A cop? He had no idea. He glanced at his watch. She’d only been upstairs seconds though it felt like much longer. No sooner had he thought it than she bounded down the stairs wearing a rose-colored sundress that hit her mid-calf. A print jacket draped her shoulders. She’d twisted her dark hair at the nape of her neck, reminding Trent of the old woman at the home. Only Rayna was younger, sexy with strands falling down around her ears. Beautiful, yet vulnerable. He’d never seen her in a dress, and he’d never seen such a determined look on her face. Without speaking, they walked through the house to the back door.
    Rayna slid into the passenger side of his truck. “Where are we going? How far?”
    He backed out of the drive. “Just a few blocks away from here. On the edge of the neighborhood; probably a converted office building. The place is called Sun Meadows Assisted Living. It’s anything but sunny.”
    She shot him a disapproving look but said nothing. They didn’t speak again until he pulled into the parking lot of the sprawling building. They looked out the vehicle’s window. The same old timers that Trent had met earlier visited on the front walk. An attendant in lavender scrubs sat with them.
    “Is he out there? Is one of those men my father?” She leaned forward in the truck seat.
    “No. I doubt if he ever comes out of his room.”
    Rayna turned to look at Trent. “I’m sorry I was so angry with you, but surely you understand why.”
    He reached toward her, touched her cheek. “Of course, I do. But please understand, I don’t want anyone to ever hurt you again.”
    She gave him a half smile. “Come with me,” she said.
    They got out of the car. Trent took her hand and led her across the sidewalk and through the door. In the foyer, they signed in with a young woman sitting at a desk. The tall foreboding woman wasn’t around. Within moments they stood in front of the last room on the left, facing a closed door. Rayna shrugged out of her jacket, and Trent saw the top portion of the brand on her chest.
    “What are you doing?”
    She barely glanced at him when she answered. “If he did this to me, I’ll know by his reaction.”
    Trent clamped his teeth together and knocked on the door.
    “Yeah.” The voice was harsh.
    Trent pushed