The Most Dangerous Animal of All Read Online Free

comprehend what I was hearing. I had been brought to a church?
    “So my father took me to Baton Rouge and turned me in to the authorities at a church, and then he turned you in to the authorities?” I queried, wanting to be sure about every detail.
    Judy hesitated and then nodded her answer. “Yes.”
    I sat quietly for a moment, taking it all in. Finally I said, “You know what, Mom? I really don’t think I want to know any more about my father. I have a wonderful family back home in Baton Rouge, and my dad is the best father in the world.”
    Judy’s relief was visible. She obviously didn’t want me to find him, either.
    I wish that would have been the end of it for me, but over the next few months, the more I thought about my biological father, the more I wanted to meet him, to learn his side of the story, maybe even forgive him and begin a relationship. My mother’s memories were limited. Maybe his memories would be better, and he could give me a reason why he had brought me to Baton Rouge and left me there.
    I decided I would try to find him after all. I wanted to learn the truth about him—what kind of man he was, why he didn’t want me. I know now that sometimes things should be left in the past, that knowing isn’t always better. Sometimes the truth is so horrible that it must be uncovered in bits and pieces, snippets here and there, absorbed slowly, as the whole of it at once is simply too shocking to bear.
    And sometimes the truth changes everything . . .

 
    1
    October 1961
    Earl Van Best Jr. sat on a bench in front of the bookstore across the street from Herbert’s Sherbet Shoppe. He was waiting while the owner of the store tallied up his earnings for the antique books he had brought back from Mexico City. While he sat there, he watched intently as a beautiful young girl came bouncing off the school bus that had just stopped on the corner of Ninth Avenue and Judah Street. As she walked, her blond hair shimmered, reflecting the afternoon sun. He stood up and stepped directly into her path, stopping her before she could cross the street.
    “Hi,” Van said warmly, flashing the charming smile that made him a good salesperson.
    “Hi,” she responded, smiling back before turning to walk toward the ice cream parlor.
    He followed her.
    “I’m Van. What’s your name?”
    “Judy.”
    Van opened the door for her, and they made their way across the beige mosaic-tiled floor to the glass-framed counter. Judy scanned the selections of sherbet before deciding on a plain vanilla ice cream cone. My father paid for her ice cream and asked if they could share a table. He looked like a nice fellow, very neat and polished, and Judy nodded her agreement, flattered by the attention from such a well-dressed, older man. They walked to a table in the corner, near the black-and-white-checkered wall.
    Van sat down and gazed into the clear blue eyes that stared back at him so innocently. He loved beautiful girls, the younger the better, and this one was prettier than most.
    Employing the British accent he liked to affect, he asked, “How old are you?” She looked like she was about twenty, but he was aware that she had just gotten off a school bus.
    “Almost fourteen.”
    Van didn’t believe her. She was much too mature, too pretty to be that young.
    “Impossible,” he murmured.
    “Yep,” she giggled, licking her ice cream, before adding, “My birthday is October eighth.”
    He sat there for a moment, wondering if he should stay, but one look into her smiling eyes convinced him that her age did not matter. Although he was twenty-seven, it was, for my father, love at first sight, total and complete. He had to have her. She was young, innocent, malleable.
    To Judy, Van seemed worldly and wise as he told her stories about trips to Mexico, about growing up in Japan. He talked about music and art and literature, things the adults in her life didn’t talk about.
    “Where do you live?” Van asked.
    “By the park,”