Page 23 of The Girl Who Was Taken

“How’s that?” Megan asked.

“When you’re here and you get a good run or a string of fifteens, you smile. Youreallysmile. Not that fake thing you do with your lips together when you’re on TV.”

“Oh, I have different smiles?” Megan let out a halfhearted laugh thatshedidn’t even believe.

“Yeah, like that. It’s as fake now as it is when you’re gabbing with Dante Campbell. I don’t like it.”

She played her first card, a ten of diamonds.

“Don’t lead with a ten or a face card. I tell you the same thing every time.” He laid a five on top of it and moved his peg two places on the cribbage board. He threw down a four of hearts. “And don’t think you can purposely play badly to distract me. Why do you smile like that in interviews?”

He was old and reclusive, but Megan could never argue that Mr. Steinman was anything but observant.

“I don’t know. ’Cause I don’t like doing them.”

“Then stop.”

“I can’t. Everyone wants me to do them.”

“You go through life doing all the things everyoneelsewants you to do, and you’ll wake up one day realizing your life’s passed you by and you’ve got a list of stuff you’ve never gotten to.”

Megan threw a nine onto the table.

“Yeah, well, I’m doing what I need to do at the moment to earn myself some freedom. I’ve got other things I’m working on, too.”

Mr. Steinman threw a card. “Like what?”

“Like trying to figure out what happened the night you found me.”

Mr. Steinman paused, lowered his cards. “How are you doing that?”

Megan shrugged.

Mr. Steinman stared at her. “Speak.”

“With my doctor. We’re getting closer to figuring some things out about where I was held.”

Mr. Steinman dropped his cards onto the table. “I was talking about getting on with your life as far as doing things thatyouwant to do. Like going to college. Or taking that trip to Europe you keep talking about.”

Megan shrugged. “Maybe.”

There was a loud crash from another room, and Mr. Steinman was up in a flash. Megan had never seen him move so quickly.

“Wait here,” he said. He scampered through thekitchen. The keys he wore clasped janitor-style to his belt loop jingled as he moved.

Megan heard a door open and his footsteps pound on the stairs. Sitting in the living room by herself, Megan tossed her cards onto the table and took a deep breath. If she wasn’t fooling Mr. Steinman during her book tour, she certainly had everyone else guessing.Missingwas climbing the best-seller list and Megan was waiting to hear where it landed. Whether Mr. Steinman approved or not, she’d have to use her fake smile for the foreseeable future.

Mr. Steinman returned a few minutes later, slightly winded and with a glistening layer of perspiration on his forehead.

“Everything okay?” Megan asked.

“Not entirely. I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check on tonight’s game.”

“Oh, of course.” Megan stood up.

“Or . . . I don’t mean to kick you out . . .” he said. “Would you like to finish your soda?”

“No. I’ll take it with me.”

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