My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 46

46

IN SPITE OF THE RECENT WARM WEATHER, Scott McGillikin pulled the collar of his wool overcoat up around his ears, hunched forward with his shoulders high, and slunk along the street Martha and Richard had played on as children. As he approached the Baimbridge home, a Saint Bernard across the street reeled off a string of low-pitched barks that sounded more like a car being started with a dying battery than any kind of living creature.

The neighborhood was actually safer now than it had been twenty years earlier. Transplants from the north were buying up all the older homes, restoring them to better-than-original condition, and adding decks, brick walks, outdoor lamps, and herb gardens.

As he turned up the Baimbridge sidewalk, a young girl next door leaned out over a porch railing to get a better look at him. He lowered his chin, mounted the steps, and had raised a gloved hand to knock when the door abruptly swung open.

Before him sat a startled woman in her wheelchair bundled in an overcoat with a scarf around her neck. Shocked at the unexpected sight of a man on the porch, she recoiled and slammed the door. The Saint Bernard across the street again cranked his engine.

Stepping back, Scott called out. "Hello? Is this the Baimbridge home?" The porch light came on. "My name is Scott McGillikin. I'm Richard's attorney. Are you Martha?"

The door opened and Martha spoke through a narrow crack. "I'm sorry. You startled me. Yes, I am."

"I apologize. I should have called first. You're obviously headed out."

"I was just going for a stroll. The night air and the exercise help me sleep."

"I see. Well, mind if I join you?"

"Who is it, Martha?" Pearl called from upstairs.

Martha wheeled around and called back to her. "It's for me, mother."

"All right, darling."

Martha kept one hand on the doorknob. "What's this about, Mr. McGillikin?"

Scott cleared his throat. "Your brother told me that you had some information that might have something to do with his case."

She studied his face wondering if he could be the imposter named Dane Bonner. "It's a fingerprint from that house at the beach that blew up."

"What about it?" he asked.

"It matches one belonging to the man that pushed me off a ledge a few years ago."

"And how does that affect your brother's case?"

"Richie followed a man he spotted in the Matthews house to that beach house."

"So, you think the cases could be related."

"Yes, I think there's a connection. The problem is that the prints the police found have never been identified."

Scott scanned the neighborhood. The girl next door had faded back into the shadows and a dog in the next block now bayed incessantly. "So, basically what you have is a set of matching fingerprints, but you have no idea to whom they belong."

"Right."

"Well, that's interesting, Miss Baimbridge, but not very helpful. However, I do appreciate your sharing that information with me. You never know what might turn out to be important."

"Of course."

"You're close?" he asked, then seeing her confusion added. "Your brother and you?"

"Oh, yes. Very."