Son of Stone (Stone Barrington 21)

Kelli explained why she couldn’t check with the hospital. “So, there are only two people who know the truth about this: Arrington and Stone Barrington, and neither of them is talking.”

“How about the boy?” the editor asked.

“He was pretty young at the time.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who his father is or the circumstances of his birth. Things like that get talked about in families.”

“I’ve already had a shot

at the boy, and he cut me dead, wouldn’t even give me his name.”

“Oh, come on, Kelli; a girl as attractive as you are shouldn’t have a problem getting an eighteen-year-old male to talk to her.”

“Give me the byline, and I’ll give the boy another shot.”

“Okay,” the editor said. He marked up the story and tossed it into his out basket. “Now get out of here.”

35

S tone woke up at his usual time and reached, as he had become accustomed to, for Arrington’s ass. His hand fell on a cold sheet, and he remembered that she was in Virginia. She had called the night before to let him know she had landed safely and to speak to Peter, but that wasn’t the same as falling asleep or waking up with her. Stone felt something he wasn’t accustomed to: loneliness.

Stone arrived at his desk without having shaken the feeling. Joan came in.

“That woman from Page Six, Kelli Keane, called again yesterday. I gave her the story about Arrington writing a book, and I think she bought it.”

“Actually, it’s the truth,” Stone said. “Arrington plans to do just that.”

“Boy, I want to read that one,” Joan said, then went back to her desk. A moment later she buzzed: “Bill Eggers on line one.”

Stone picked up. “Good morning, Bill.”

“A better morning than you may know,” Eggers said. “Hank Hightower called a moment ago and hired us to handle Steele Security-all of it. We’ll have an agreement for him to sign before the close of business today, and he’ll have fired his previous firm by that time, so we’re getting ready to receive their files. His old firm will bombard us with irrelevant paper, and we’ll have to sort it out for ourselves.”

“You do understand, don’t you, Bill, that I’m just terrible at that kind of work?”

“Don’t worry, that’s what we have associates for. And speaking of associates, I think it’s time we assigned one to you.”

“I’d appreciate that, Bill. I’m getting tired of reading all the financial paper. It would be good to have somebody prioritize what I need to know.”

“I’m going to give you a young woman named Allison Wainwright,” Eggers said. “She’s been here a year, so she’s not green, and I think she’ll be a good fit for you.”

“Thanks, Bill.”

“Shall I send her over to see you?”

“Sure; I’m here all day.”

“You’ll find her a little… different.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s hard to characterize. You can make your own judgments. If you don’t like the way it’s going, I’ll pull her and assign you somebody else.”

“Okay.”

“Talk to you later.” Eggers hung up.

Less than an hour passed when Joan buzzed. “There’s an Allison Wainwright to see you.”