Squinting at the screen, Russ racked his brain. Dwight. Dwayne. Dean. Dane. Yes. Dane something.
His finger hovered over the mousepad and his stomach turned over, as if he doing something abhorrent … and he was.
He clicked on Amoy's friends list and opened it up. Halfway through scrolling, he almost gave up but something kept his finger on the mousepad.
He was almost at the end of close to eight hundred people when he found the man he was seeking.
Dane Whitby.
He clicked on the man's name. Since they weren't Facebook friends, Russ could only see a few photos of Dane.
With his chin propped on one hand, the realization dawned that Amoy had a type. Dane and he fit the mold. The guy kinda looked like him, but was a few shades lighter. He stared at the man's face for a while longer, then clicked away from his page. Then something occurred to Russ and he typed in Dane’s name.
When his picture came up again, a heavy sludge settled in Russ's stomach.
Dane had a sprinkling of freckles across his nose.
Same as Junior.
It could mean nothing.
Or it could mean something.
Amoy had freckles, just a dusting across her chest and back.
He studied Dane Whitby in minute detail, while his stomach twisted.
Junior was his mother through and through, but something about this man's eyes reminded him of looking into his son's.
It wasn't possible.
But what if it was?
Amoy wouldn't have done this to him.
But what if she had?
He rubbed his head with both hands, sorry he’d gone down this path. Almost against his will, he slid one hand into the pocket of the laptop case. Breathing out hard, he removed the envelopes labeled with the boys' names.
He could fool himself tonight, thinking this was as far as curiosity would take him. Deep in his gut, he knew otherwise. He wouldn't stop digging until he was sure about Junior’s paternity.
Find out more at lrd.to/DNAvav
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