Even in Gwen’s earliest memories, her father already looked old, worn down by grief and stress, but she’d seen pictures of him as a young man in his prime, and the resemblance to the man on the other side of the courtroom was startling. It was hard to guess the stranger’s age, but he looked about her age. William would be thirty-three if he had lived.
Her grandfather pulled on the knot of his tie. His hand shook, and his breathing was ragged.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I need air,” he said, and she stood to help him rise. Edwin did too. It was worrisome how heavily Frederick leaned on her as she guided him toward the center aisle. Others on the bench pulled aside to let them pass as she helped him out of the muggy room.
The vestibule outside the courtroom was empty. She guided Frederick to a bench.
“We’re probably imagining things,” she said. Her grandfather’s hand shook as he dragged out a handkerchief and blotted his face.
“Probably,” he replied after a long pause. “It’s been a stressful day, and this hearing has stirred up bad memories. That man is surely no one. He looks like an ordinary laborer, not a Blackstone.”
But he did look like a Blackstone. Her parents had more than a dozen photographs of Willy, and she’d seen them all. He was a sturdy little boy, with an olive complexion and unusually pale eyes. It was impossible to guess what he would have looked like had he grown up.
“I didn’t see him,” Edwin said. “Describe him.”
“He looks like Theodore,” Frederick groused. “All except the rude stare. My son was a kind and gentle man, nothing like that ruffian.”
A roar of laughter rose from the courtroom, followed by a banging of the gavel. The judge demanded order, then said something else so low she couldn’t hear.
“Objection!” the Blackstone attorney shouted, but the judge overruled the objection and continued speaking.
“It doesn’t sound like things are going well,” Edwin said.
Gwen nodded and hurried to the courtroom doors, cocking her ear to listen. The judge said the Blackstones hadn’t proven their case and there was no point in continuing the discussion about damages without a finding of libel.
A cheer rose from the crowd, complete with hooting, stomping, and jeering. The judge banged his gavel for order, but it didn’t stop the commotion. Footsteps came pounding toward the door, and she backed away and returned to her grandfather.
“It sounds like we lost,” she said. “Stay here. I’m going to find that man before he leaves.”
The doors opened, and two hundred people came streaming out. She had to battle the crowd to keep moving toward the doors, determined to intercept the man with the pale eyes and the scar that split his eyebrow.
He wasn’t hard to spot. He was a few inches taller than most of the triumphant and jeering spectators. She pushed through the crowd and managed to grab his elbow.
“Please,” she said. “We need to talk to you.”
He glanced at her through narrowed eyes. “Who is ‘we’?” he asked in a challenging tone.
“My grandfather and I would like to speak to you.”
Frederick was already by her side. Edwin stood a few yards away, watching from a distance. The crowd thinned as the courtroom emptied quickly, and they gestured for the man to follow them a few yards away where it wasn’t so crowded.
“I’m Gwen Blackstone Kellerman, and this is my grandfather, Frederick Blackstone,” she said. “May I ask your name?”
He stared at her grandfather. His demeanor was suspicious and hostile, without an ounce of the deferential respect people usually afforded her grandfather. “Liam,” he finally said. “Liam Malone.”
She sucked in a quick breath. “Are you related to Mick Malone?”
“Yeah, he’s sort of an uncle.”
“Sort of?”
“Yeah, sort of,” he said impatiently. “Look, what’s your business with me?”
Heavens above, what if Mick had snatched her brother and smuggled him away to be raised by someone in his family? William was so young when he was taken that he might have no memory of his early years. The possibility that she could be looking at her long-lost brother was too preposterous to believe, but she couldn’t entirely dismiss it either.
“Exactly how are you related to Mick Malone?”
