Counterfeit Son Read Online Free PDF

sheet from his bed to scrub his own eyes with.

    "Neil, are you all right?" his mother asked, still worried.
    "Yeah," he said, surprised to hear how strong his voice was. "I'm fine, Mama Bear."
    And she laughed at that, so he guessed she wasn't frightened anymore.
    "Come on, then," she said. "We're going home."
    He followed them down the hospital corridor, on foot for the first time instead of in a wheelchair. Double glass doors fell open in front of him with a gentle
whoosh
of air, and then he was outside, under a clear blue sky, hearing the rush of engines and spinning of tires.
    "They let me pull the car around to here," his mother said, and Cameron followed them to a new Lincoln Town Car, sleek and dark blue. He was certain it couldn't be six years old, and he felt relieved at not having to recognize it.
    His father held the passenger door open for him. "You sit in the front seat," he said, his voice light and full of happiness. "I'll get in the back and try to close my eyes while your mother drives."
    "You'll do no such thing," she said, laughing. "You go ahead and drive, Jon."
    "I'll sit in the middle," Cameron suddenly volunteered. "You can drive, Dad. And Mom, you can sit on the other side."
    His father cocked his head to one side. "It'll be crowded."
    Cameron smiled. "I don't mind."

    Cameron slid over the soft blue plush of the seat and sat in the uneven space in the middle. He was a little scared at being sandwiched in between two people, but at the same time it felt strangely safe, like the metal railings around the hospital bed. He leaned against his mother to give his father room to work the gearshift, and felt suddenly tired.
    As the car backed smoothly out of the parking space and swung around, Cameron caught sight of a police car on the side of the ambulance parking area. He flinched at the sight.
    "Neil, are you all right?" his mother asked.
    "I'm sorry," he said automatically. "I'm okay."
    He was glad he'd sat securely wedged between them. The driver's window of the police car was rolled down, and through the Lincoln's windshield he could see the face of the detective who had questioned him so closely—Detective Simmons, the man who didn't believe he was Neil Lacey.

5. Homecoming
    Cameron wasn't sure what he'd expected. The pictures of the sailboats in the file had just shown a wide green lawn with a few trees, a small redwood dock, and the boats. He hadn't really thought much about the house itself.

    It wasn't a mansion, Cameron knew that. One of the boys had come from a real mansion, a white house with towering columns, half hidden behind ornate iron gates. He'd seen pictures of that house in a magazine clipping. Cameron remembered the article said that the boy's parents had offered to pay a big ransom. Not that money would have made any difference to Pop.
    But this was an expensive house, made of tan fieldstone that gleamed golden in the late-afternoon sun, with a curving drive that ran up to a stone entryway. There was money in this house, like the money in the Lincoln; enough money to make him feel secure. There were also roses blooming against the fieldstone, and bright pansies lining the entryway. And beside the house, the lawn ran down to a sparkling lake rippling gently in the slanting sunlight.

    He'd slept during most of the drive home, giving in to the tiredness and the strain, and blanking out his fear at seeing Detective Simmons. There was heavy traffic getting out of Knoxville during the Monday afternoon rush hour, and his father muttered that he was glad he'd driven after all. After a while, Cameron just leaned against his mother and drifted off into dreamless sleep, swaying gently in the smooth, quiet car.
    It was the bump as they turned off the main road through Freeport onto the lakefront road that woke him. He sat up apologetically, but when he looked at his mother, it seemed as though she hadn't minded. She had a peaceful look on her face for the first time since he'd seen her.
    He