The Other Daughter Read Online Free PDF

lives would make God give him his daughter back. Rich men were stupid.
    So, the fourteen-year-old Brian had gone to Texas as his mother's escort. He'd even followed his mother into the bar as if he owned the place. When the bartender tried to protest, the kid gave him a look. A don't-you-mess-with-me-after-the-things-I've-seen look. The bartender shut right up.
    Christ, what kind of kid attended an execution?
    Right about then Digger figured that the Stokeses weren't so perfect or golden after all. There was something there, something beneath the carefully manicured surface. Something dark. Something sinister. In all the years since, he'd never shaken that impression.
    Now here he was, twenty years later. The Stokeses had a new daughter, and this one had gotten the chance to grow up. But somehow the demons couldn't all be settled, because someone had called up Larry Digger and invited him over to play.
    Someone still thought the Stokeses hadn't gotten what they deserved.
    Digger felt a chill.
    He finally shrugged. He spared one last thought for the other daughter, wondering what she was like, if she'd found any happiness there on Beacon Street. He decided he didn't care.
    This was his shot and he was going to take it. He'd done his research. He had his information. And he knew by then how to make his opportunity.
    Ready or not, Melanie Stokes
, he thought indifferently,
here I come
.
     
TWO
     
    BY NINE-THIRTY, guests were filling up the Stokes home like glittering jewels. White-tuxedoed waiters cut clean lines through the expensively dressed crowd, offering silver trays heavy with champagne flutes or sizzling garlic shrimp or wild boar with blueberry demiglaze. Baccarat chandeliers threw sparkling lights over carefully coiled hairdos and captured handsome men whispering to beautiful young ladies.
    Rushing down the stairs, Melanie waved merrily at the Webers and the Braskamps and the Ruddys, then exchanged nods with the Chadwicks and Baumgartners. Lawyers, deans, chiefs of surgery, and management consulting VPs. Investment bankers and a few politicians. Boston was full of new money and old money, and Melanie had shamelessly invited it all. Everyone brought a rare book to donate for literacy, and if they were all jockeying to give the best book, the most priceless donation, even better. When it came to fund-raisers, Melanie was a true hussy.
    She exchanged smiles with her father, who stood by the door, looking elegant in his favorite satin-trimmed tux. At nearly sixty years of age, blue-eyed, golden-haired Harper was in his prime. He worked like a dog, jogged religiously each morning, and was an avid golfer who'd finally gotten down to a nine-handicap. More important,
Boston
magazine had just named him the best cardiac surgeon in Boston, a long overdue triumph. Tonight Melanie thought her father appeared happier than she'd seen him in months.
    Satisfied, she went in search of her mother. Parties had always relaxed Melanie, hence her job. She felt comforted by the throng of milling people, the flutter of multiple conversations. In her mind, hell was solitary confinement in a room that was cold and stark and unending white. Fortunately with her job, her volunteer work at the Dedham Red Cross Donor Center, and her family, she didn't have much time to waste on worrying about being alone.
    Melanie finally spotted her mother across the room and altered course straight for her.
    Patricia Stokes was tucked in a corner, standing next to one of the sterling silver juice carts, and chatting with the young male server. This was a sure sign that she was nervous. A tall, striking blonde who had conquered the hearts of most of the men in Texas by the time she was eighteen, Melanie's mother had grown more beautiful with age. And when scared or unsure, she had a tendency to migrate toward men, as they inevitably gushed over her every word.
    “Melanie!” Patricia had spotted her daughter. Her face immediately lit up, and she waved