An Accidental Woman by Barbara Delinsky

so that he must have missed one of those thoughtful “Uh-huh”s.
    â€œ . . . Griffin?” Hayden prompted.
    â€œYes, sir,” Griffin replied.
    â€œI thought I’d lost you. Damn cell phones aren’t anywhere near as reliable as the regular kind.”
    â€œCan I call you back, Senator Hayden? Later today, maybe tomorrow?”
    â€œWell, of course, but I don’t want that issue mentioned. I won’t be changing my mind.”
    â€œWe’ll talk tomorrow,” Griffin said. He clicked off the phone and proceeded to stare at the television with a morbid fascination that held him glued even when he switched channels. Listening to one live report after another from Concord, he vacillated between disbelief and dismay. By the time the last of the clips ended, with Heather heading for the county seat at West Eames, and with promises of updates by reporters later that day, he was out-and-out furious.
    Stabbing at the off button, he tossed the remote aside and snatched up the phone. He punched in his brother’s number, and, while the phone rang on the other end, paced to the window and looked out over Princeton’s main drag. He saw little of it today, though even in winter he had always thought the view had charm. His thoughts now were on Lake Henry. He hadn’t been there in over a month.
    Wondering if Randy—the rat —was in Lake Henry now, he waited only until his brother’s answering machine picked up, then ended the call and punched in the cell phone number he had programmed into his phone. After a single ring, his brother’s voice came through.
    â€œYo.”
    â€œWhere are you?” Griffin asked without preamble.
    â€œRight now? Three blocks from work.”
    Not Lake Henry, then. Washington, D.C. Griffin was grateful for that, but not enough to be defused. “I’ve been watching TV, this stuff about Heather Malone. I’m trying to figure out where it came from, and I don’t like what’s coming to mind. Tell me it wasn’t you, Randy.”
    Randall Hughes, Griffin’s senior by two years, sounded pleased with himself. “I’ll give you a clue. I’m headed into the office for what will be the first of many interviews today.”
    â€œTell me it wasn’t you,” Griffin repeated, tense and tight-jawed now, but if Randy sensed his anger, it didn’t dampen his spirits.
    â€œDamn right, it was me. Is this cool, or is this cool!”
    â€œGod damn it, Randy. That day in your office, I was thinking out loud. I remarked on a similarity. All I said was I had seen someone who looked a little like that picture on your wall. I never said it was her.”
    â€œThat’s right, and I picked it up from there,” Randy said with pride. “This is unbelievable. I mean, her face has been starin’ back at the occupant of this office for fifteen fuckin’ years, and that’s been me for the last fifteen months, and then my own brother gives me the tip. That’s how it happens with cases like this. You pound the pavement all you want, but it’s something totally unexpected that points you in the right direction.”
    â€œI didn’t point you anywhere,” Griffin insisted, wanting to erase the whole thing, certainly any possible role he had played in it himself. “All I said was that there was a resemblance. Know how many people look like me in this world? Or like you ? When was the last time someone asked if you were related to Redford? Happened to me again last week. It’s the jaw—that’s all—the jaw that’s square like his, so they ask, but it’s an idle question. They don’t honestly think we’re related to the guy. Same with this thing. I just said the picture reminded me of a girl I saw. Did I even say it was in that town?”
    â€œIt didn’t take a genius to figure it out. You’d just come from there. Every other word out of your