Read Online Winter's Destiny by Nancy Allan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nancy Allan
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you, that’s for sure.” The woman glanced at Amy’s jeans and jacket. “Even dresses kind of like you.”
“When was she here?” Amy asked, recovering.
“Friday morning.”
“Friday morning,” Amy repeated thoughtfully. “Did she drive a white Taurus by any chance?”
“Yup. Something like that anyway.”
“So, she came here and asked you about the Haddens?” Amy’s curiosity grew.
“Yup. She was pretty jumpy, I mean, you know—nervous. Kept looking up and down the street.”
“Were you able to help her?”
The woman put the cigarette to her lips, sucked in the smoke, then plucked a piece of tobacco from her tongue and flipped it Amy’s way. “Yeah. We got to talking. She said it was lunchtime where she came from. Now where was that? Can’t recall. Hey, you oughta know, being her sister and all.”
Amy shrugged. “Can you remember anything else?”
The woman puckered her lips and blew a couple of smoke rings. “Yeah. She said she had an urgent message for the Haddens. That’s why I kind of got into the whole thing with her. She didn’t say what the message was, but she was uptight enough to give me the idea it was pretty serious-like.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Nah, that’s about it. I gave her a few suggestions on how to find the Haddens and she took off.”
Amy held out her business card. “Look, I appreciate your help. My home phone and cell are on the bottom of the card. If you remember anything else, please call me.”
The sum total of Amy’s inquires revealed that her lookalike had been inquiring here Friday morning. Amy found that information astounding. Her lookalike must have learned that the Haddens and Amy now live in Sanville, but how had the woman found Amy’s home address?
She returned to the Jeep, her head spinning. It was a strange feeling to be told that you’re following the same path as a woman who looks exactly like you. Amy started the truck. She needed food. She’d barely eaten anything since Friday night and she was famished.
The town center mall had fast burgers so she ordered a high cholesterol lunch. She wasn’t in the mood for her usual healthy fare. When she had swallowed the last fry, she turned the Jeep north toward St. Mary’s hospital, and parked in the crowded lot.
Inside, she asked for the Records Department, and after much pleading, was lead down a corridor to the Records Supervisor’s office. A stick thin, all business—no nonsense woman peered up at her over thick bifocals. Protruding eyes inspected Amy up and down before a frown settled across her ruddy forehead. “Well?”
Amy read the nameplate and offered her hand in introduction. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Goodrich. My name’s Amy Johnson. I’m trying to locate my birth records.”
The records supervisor ignored her hand. “We don’t give medical records out to the public, Ms. Johnson.”
Amy wasn’t put off. “I was born in this hospital thirty-two years ago, Mrs. Goodrich. I’m interested in knowing the name of my physician.”
The record’s supervisor told her, “There are no records prior to 1981.” She picked up her pen and went back to her work.
“Where would I find them?”
The supervisor didn’t look up. “You won’t.”
Amy’s foot tapped impatiently. “And why is that?”
The woman’s head jerked up and she slid her glasses down her nose. Her voice was cold. “We had a fire here in 1980, Ms. Johnson. The lower two floors of the hospital were gutted. All the records were destroyed.”
CHAPTER 11
Amy swung the Jeep onto Nita’s empty driveway, jumped out, and ran to the door. She pushed the doorbell and waited impatiently. She could barely wait to pick up Jamie. She missed him terribly. The dog barked from inside the house, but no one answered. It was six o’clock; where were they?
Disappointed, Amy decided to wait in the truck. She tried Brandon’s cell, then Nita’s, but they were both directed to
“When was she here?” Amy asked, recovering.
“Friday morning.”
“Friday morning,” Amy repeated thoughtfully. “Did she drive a white Taurus by any chance?”
“Yup. Something like that anyway.”
“So, she came here and asked you about the Haddens?” Amy’s curiosity grew.
“Yup. She was pretty jumpy, I mean, you know—nervous. Kept looking up and down the street.”
“Were you able to help her?”
The woman put the cigarette to her lips, sucked in the smoke, then plucked a piece of tobacco from her tongue and flipped it Amy’s way. “Yeah. We got to talking. She said it was lunchtime where she came from. Now where was that? Can’t recall. Hey, you oughta know, being her sister and all.”
Amy shrugged. “Can you remember anything else?”
The woman puckered her lips and blew a couple of smoke rings. “Yeah. She said she had an urgent message for the Haddens. That’s why I kind of got into the whole thing with her. She didn’t say what the message was, but she was uptight enough to give me the idea it was pretty serious-like.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Nah, that’s about it. I gave her a few suggestions on how to find the Haddens and she took off.”
Amy held out her business card. “Look, I appreciate your help. My home phone and cell are on the bottom of the card. If you remember anything else, please call me.”
The sum total of Amy’s inquires revealed that her lookalike had been inquiring here Friday morning. Amy found that information astounding. Her lookalike must have learned that the Haddens and Amy now live in Sanville, but how had the woman found Amy’s home address?
She returned to the Jeep, her head spinning. It was a strange feeling to be told that you’re following the same path as a woman who looks exactly like you. Amy started the truck. She needed food. She’d barely eaten anything since Friday night and she was famished.
The town center mall had fast burgers so she ordered a high cholesterol lunch. She wasn’t in the mood for her usual healthy fare. When she had swallowed the last fry, she turned the Jeep north toward St. Mary’s hospital, and parked in the crowded lot.
Inside, she asked for the Records Department, and after much pleading, was lead down a corridor to the Records Supervisor’s office. A stick thin, all business—no nonsense woman peered up at her over thick bifocals. Protruding eyes inspected Amy up and down before a frown settled across her ruddy forehead. “Well?”
Amy read the nameplate and offered her hand in introduction. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Goodrich. My name’s Amy Johnson. I’m trying to locate my birth records.”
The records supervisor ignored her hand. “We don’t give medical records out to the public, Ms. Johnson.”
Amy wasn’t put off. “I was born in this hospital thirty-two years ago, Mrs. Goodrich. I’m interested in knowing the name of my physician.”
The record’s supervisor told her, “There are no records prior to 1981.” She picked up her pen and went back to her work.
“Where would I find them?”
The supervisor didn’t look up. “You won’t.”
Amy’s foot tapped impatiently. “And why is that?”
The woman’s head jerked up and she slid her glasses down her nose. Her voice was cold. “We had a fire here in 1980, Ms. Johnson. The lower two floors of the hospital were gutted. All the records were destroyed.”
CHAPTER 11
Amy swung the Jeep onto Nita’s empty driveway, jumped out, and ran to the door. She pushed the doorbell and waited impatiently. She could barely wait to pick up Jamie. She missed him terribly. The dog barked from inside the house, but no one answered. It was six o’clock; where were they?
Disappointed, Amy decided to wait in the truck. She tried Brandon’s cell, then Nita’s, but they were both directed to
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