© 2022 Phylicia Joannis
THREE YEARS LATER
Miracle sat alone at a bar, the back of her red cocktail dress diving way past her comfort level as she sipped a cranberry juice.
“You okay?” A voice spoke in her ear.
Miracle cleared her throat and gave a slight nod. She was mildly impressed with herself for not replying back. The agent was somewhere close, disguised as one of the staff.
Today was the day.
“He’s coming in.” Miracle’s head swiveled towards the door, noting the middle-aged man dressed in a black suede suit as he entered. His eyes gravitated towards her and he stopped. She looked away as her heart pounded in her chest.
“Stay calm,” the agent reminded her. “We want him to notice you. He’s headed your way.”
Miracle took another sip of her cranberry juice and slowed her breathing. Though the investigation of Mayor Blume’s death had ended with his autopsy report, Richard Alberich had fallen ill, and was only recently deemed medically fit to travel overseas from his home in Germany.
He was supposed to be signing the paperwork that granted him his fortune today. But, as the special agent on his case had predicted, he’d stop by his favorite bar for a drink first.
Richard sat next to Miracle and eyed her glass. “I’ll have what the lady’s having.” His gravelly voice left no room for argument. He hadn’t even spared a glance at the bartender. He was completely focused on her. Miracle shifted towards him, and he smiled.
“Have we met before?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. But you look like someone I know.”
“Really?” Miracle studied his face. His skin pulled unnaturally at his cheekbones, and there was a near imperceptible scar at his widow’s peak, but his eyes were the same. After obsessing over dozens of articles and press conference videos, and the mirror in her apartment, she’d recognize them anywhere.
He grabbed the drink proffered by the bartender and took a sip. “What is this?” His lips curled in a sour expression.
“Cranberry juice.” Miracle shrugged.
“Who comes to a bar and doesn’t drink?” He shook his head and scowled. “What are you, a child?”
Miracle cocked her head to the side and stared at him. “Maybe.” She leaned in closer, stopping just an inch from his ear. “My mother told me I have your eyes.”
He tilted his head at her, bemused. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flash of recognition. The moment passed, and he shook his head. “I’m afraid you have me confused for someone else.” He stood to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some business to attend to.”
Miracle watched him leave, then nodded to the agent across the room. He walked by and retrieved Richard’s glass, dumping out the contents before placing the glass in a storage bag.
“He didn’t even pay for his drink.” The agent scowled, then winked at her.
“What happens next?” she asked.
“We run the tests. If it’s a match, we’ll have everything we need to catch that bastard. He can change his name and his face, but DNA doesn’t lie.” The agent gave her a serious look. “Thank you again for doing this. He’d never willingly consent to a test, and he’d be long gone before we could take legal steps to force him. And, since paternity tests only require one party’s consent, it’s permissible in court.”
Miracle let out a breath and nodded. “So I’ll hear from you soon?”
“Either way, you’ll hear from us. Keep your phone close.”
She stared at the exit, though Richard was nowhere in sight. The agents investigating the case knew what they were doing. Had known he’d come here, just as sure as they’d known that he couldn’t stay away once he was all healed up.
Mitchell Blume had always called this place his city, but if all went well, his arrogance would finally catch up with him today. Miracle didn’t know much about insurance fraud, but she knew whatever plans he had for his fortune would be completely derailed.
An hour later, she got the call she’d been waiting for.
“It’s a match, Miracle. We got him.”
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