by Marta Perry
In a crazy way, that was reassuring. It seemed to show that Juliet hadn’t conceived of anyone thinking Amanda wasn’t her child. Not that Amanda doubted her love, even in the face of the news that had turned her world upside down.
Barney nudged her hand impatiently, then let out a single bark. He trotted a few steps away and then looked back at her, whining.
Supper? But he was headed for the den, not the kitchen. She frowned when he barked again. “All right, Barney. Enough. What’s so important?”
He trotted toward the den and again looked back at her. Obviously she was expected to follow him. She obeyed, knowing he wouldn’t quit. “Whatever is wrong with...”
She stopped in the doorway, staring, shivering a little when chill air reached her. The window that overlooked the tiny garden behind the house was broken. Shards of glass lay on the Oriental carpet. Fear kept her immobile for another instant.
She should run, get out, call the police...but clearly the intruder was gone. Barney looked at the broken window with an air of triumph, his tail waving as if he announced that he’d vanquished the invader. He’d hardly react that way if someone were still in the house.
“Good dog, good boy.” She patted her knee, drawing him back to her. The glass could give him a nasty cut on the paw. He came, rubbing his nose against her palm. “Good Barney,” she said again, holding him by the collar.
Calling the police was the obvious next step, but a quick glance told her there’d be little they could do. It didn’t look as if the thief had been in here long enough to take anything. The only sign of disturbance besides the broken window was the painting that lay facedown on the rug, its frame broken.
Amanda had to restrain herself from rushing to pick it up. Juliet had done that painting the summer Amanda went to camp for the first time, when she was ten. A realistic-looking view of a waterfall, it was very different from her usual work. But Juliet had been attached to it, and it had hung over the fireplace in the den since that summer. If it was damaged—
She’d have to wait until the police arrived to see. She backed out of the room, dragging Barney, who clearly wanted to remain at the scene of his triumph. Amanda closed the door, ignoring the way he whined at the crack, and pulled out her cell phone.
The police first. Assured they’d be there soon, Amanda leaned against the wall, discovering that her knees were weak. Silly, but normal, she supposed.
Clutching the cell phone in one hand and Barney’s collar in the other, Amanda went through the rest of the downstairs. Nothing was disturbed. The thief hadn’t gotten far before Barney caught up with him. Thank goodness he apparently hadn’t had a weapon.
Shaken by what might have happened, Amanda sank down on the rug and put her arms around the dog. If she’d lost him, too...
It seemed an eternity until the doorbell rang. She peered out the side window. Reassured by the sight of the uniforms, she opened the door.
Much ado about nothing, she told herself a half hour later, when she closed the door behind them again. One of them had been obliging enough to help her tape cardboard in place over the broken panes and sweep up the broken glass while the other filled out a report.
Their attitude said she’d been lucky. Nothing missing and only minor damage that her insurance would most likely cover. With a parting admonition to use the alarm system at all times, they’d gone.
“So that’s it,” she told Barney. “Let’s see how bad the damage was to the painting.”
He woofed as if he understood and followed her back to the den. Amanda shivered a little when she paused inside the door. This room, at least, wouldn’t feel like a refuge again for a time. While Barney nosed around the broken frame, Amanda lifted the painting gingerly. She turned it over and let out a sigh of relief. The only damage was to the frame.
Odd, that the thief had gone straight to the painting. A burglar would probably look for expensive electronics, rather than a painting. Unless he’d thought it hid a safe. Or perhaps the thief knew whose house this was and had some idea of the value of a Juliet Curtiss painting.
Amanda smoothed the canvas out flat, trying to look at it as if for the first time, but it had become so much a part of the surroundings that it was impossible. The falls were very realistic, as was the dark water at the base and the jagged rocks that interrupted the water’s flow. A little shiver went through her. She’d always found the tone of the picture rather ominous. Her mother must have loved it, since it had pride of place in the room where they usually spent the evenings. But there had been times when she’d regarded it broodingly, her face set, maybe dissatisfied with her own work.
Amanda started to put the painting on the side table until she could arrange to have it reframed, but something on the back caught her eye. Along the bottom, in her mother’s impeccable printing, ran a tiny line of text, so tiny she had to carry the painting to the lamp to make it out.
In memoriam. M, April, 1989. Echo Falls. Too young to die.
It was the date that jolted Amanda: 1989. She’d been born on February 10, 1989. If that date, at least, was true.
Amanda sank into the desk chair, studying the face of the painting, then turning it again to read the words on the back. It was too much of a coincidence. Or was she thinking that only because of the shocks she’d had?
No. She couldn’t buy that. It had to mean something. She had no idea where Echo Falls might be, or who M had been. But she intended to find out.
* * *
IF SHE WERE PUNCTUAL, the new client should be showing up in the next few minutes. Theodore Alter, Trey to his friends, straightened his tie and prepared for the novelty of a new client. New clients had been thin on the ground for the firm of Alter and Glassman since the scandal broke involving the former head of the law practice. He wanted to make sure this one didn’t slip through his fingers.
Unfortunately, he had no idea what Ms. Amanda Curtiss of Boston wanted with an attorney in tiny Echo Falls, Pennsylvania. The contact had been made by someone he’d met at a conference last year. He and Robert McKinley had sat and talked one evening, exchanged business cards and parted, sure they’d never see each other again. Until his call came out of the blue.
McKinley had been downright evasive on the phone when he’d set up this appointment. It was the sort of approach Trey might have instinctively refused back in the day when they’d had more business than they could handle. Not now. He could only hope this Amanda Curtiss wasn’t a nutcase.
The intercom buzzed, and he stood as the door opened. “Ms. Curtiss, Mr. Alter,” Evelyn Lincoln, their office manager, murmured.
She closed the door discreetly, and Trey had a moment to assess the woman who came toward him. Slim, average height, with blond hair pulled back in a tie at her nape and intensely blue eyes that were looking him over, as well. And perhaps a bit disapprovingly. He had a quick impression of expensive casual clothes and an assured manner before they were shaking hands and murmuring conventional greetings.
“I see you brought a friend to our meeting.” Trey nodded to the yellow Lab that followed at the woman’s heels.
“I didn’t want to leave him in the car. Your receptionist said it would be okay if I brought him inside. I hope you don’t dislike dogs.” She sounded as if that would end this meeting in a hurry.
“Not at all.” He held out the back of his hand to the animal. “I hope he likes attorneys.”
“Barney’s quite indiscriminately affectionate.” The tight control she’d been exercising over her expression became evident only when her face relaxed in a smile as she looked at the animal. The dog proved the truth of her words by licking Trey’s hand with enthusiasm.
She took the chair Trey had indicated, and the dog sat obediently next to her. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” The reserve had returned.
“No problem,” he said eas
ily. “Tell me what I can do to help you. Robert McKinley didn’t say much, just that you needed an attorney here in town.”
“Yes.” She frowned, studying him so seriously that he began to wonder if he had something on his face.
When she didn’t continue, he raised an eyebrow. “I’m not what you were looking for?”
A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. “I expected you to be older.”
“Sorry I can’t oblige.” If that sounded flippant, too bad. The woman’s attitude didn’t bode well for their relationship.
But her lips twitched, and she looked human again. “Sorry. I just assumed a friend of Robert’s would be around his age. And this is...rather complicated. I’m not sure you can help me.”
“We’ll never know unless you tell me what it’s about, will we?”
Amanda Curtiss was actually quite attractive when she relaxed her guard for a moment, with those mobile lips and long, slim legs. Not that he ought to be noticing anything of the kind about a client. Oddly enough, there was something vaguely familiar in the oval face and regular features, but he couldn’t place it.
“No.” She paused, as if not sure how to begin. “This situation arose when my mother died a few weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Maybe that explained the air she had of holding a tight guard on her emotions.
Amanda nodded, accepting the words of condolence. She’d probably heard them often recently. She couldn’t be more than about thirty herself, so her mother had apparently died young.
“She had been caught in the cross fire of what the police thought was gang violence. In the course of the postmortem, it was determined that she’d never given birth to a child.” She met his gaze briefly and then looked away. “Robert and I assumed I was adopted, but we couldn’t find adoption papers anywhere. He’s started a search through court records, but without knowing where or when, it seems impossible to trace.”
Trey tried to imagine himself in that situation and ran up against a blank wall. He couldn’t even begin to think what it must be like. His family roots went deep here in Echo Falls, where everyone knew everything going back several generations. “But you must have a birth certificate.”
“I have a baptismal certificate from a church outside Boston that appears genuine, but that’s when I was three. What we thought was a birth certificate was actually a hospital form, not a state-registered certificate. And no such birth actually occurred at that hospital on that date.”
Trey frowned, caught up in the story in spite of himself. “Your mother must have been very determined to wipe out traces of who you really were. If she were desperate to have a child...”
“No. If you’re thinking she took me because she was mentally unbalanced...well, you never knew my mother. That’s not something she would do.”
He’d reserve judgment on that one. Children weren’t always the best judge of what their parents would do. Come to think of it, that worked the other way around, too.
“So you’ve run into a lot of blind alleys. But what brought you to Echo Falls?”
She hesitated, and for a moment he actually thought she was going to call the whole thing off, say goodbye, send me a bill and walk away. But instead she took something from her bag and handed it to him.
“Do you recognize that?”
It was a photograph of what seemed to be a painting.
The subject was familiar to him. “That’s Echo Falls.” He studied it closely. “But I’ve never seen that painting of the falls.”
“My mother painted it. She was Juliet Curtiss. I don’t know if you’re familiar...”
“Yes, of course. I read the account of her death somewhere.” That shed a bit more light on things. Juliet Curtiss most likely had a considerable estate to leave her heir, which was now in doubt. On the other hand, if the woman thought the painting would lead her to answers about her parentage...
“This is a photo of the words on the back of the painting. I enlarged it to make it more readable.”
He read the short line of printing, struggling to make sense of it. “It sounds as if your mother did the painting as a tribute to a friend, but that doesn’t mean there’s a connection to you.”
“It’s a memorial, so it’s logical to assume that the date on it was the date when this person died.”
He nodded. “M. I’m with you, but...”
“The date is two months after I was born.” She seemed to think that made everything clear. It didn’t.
“Even so,” he began.
“You think I’m imagining a connection that isn’t there.” Her face flamed with sudden anger.
“I think you’re building a great deal on a slim chance. If I thought I could help you...”
“Never mind.” She held out her hand for the photos. “Robert suggested I see you rather than a private investigator, both because he trusts you and because as a local attorney, you’re more likely to know what to search for. Maybe I’ll do better looking into the situation on my own.”
Annoyed, he held the photos out of reach. “Hold on. I didn’t say I wouldn’t try. I just don’t know that I can come up with the answers you want.”
“I want the truth.” Her tone was uncompromising.
“Good. So do I. Now we have common ground, at least. May I hold on to these?”
“Why?” She shot the word at him.
“Well, mainly because I was four years old in 1989. I’d like to show them to someone who might remember something from that year.”
She frowned. “I assume you have a copier in the office. Suppose you keep a copy.”
Trey nodded. “We can do that on the way out. Now, where are you staying?”
“At a motel down near Williamsport. It was the closest place I could find that would allow dogs.”
“Let me have your cell number, then. I’ll call you if I find anything.” He hesitated, but it ought to be said. “In the meantime, it probably would be best if you didn’t start investigating this in Echo Falls yourself.”
“Why not?” She was instantly defensive.
“It’s a small town. And like most small towns, people don’t like outsiders poking around asking questions.” He could see by her expression that she didn’t understand. Obviously she’d never lived in a place like Echo Falls.
“I’ll think about what you said.” She stood, and the dog lumbered to his feet, his nap interrupted. She handed Trey a card with the number he’d requested. It also identified her as Dr. Amanda Curtiss, DVM. A vet. He’d never have guessed that, but it seemed to explain that air of competence.
Trey rounded the desk to join her. “Meaning you’ll follow your own instincts?”
That seemed to break through her guard for an instant, and she smiled. “I suppose so.”
“Tell me something.” He opened the door for her. “Did Robert McKinley approve of this investigation of yours?”
“Probably not. But I told him, and I’ll tell you.” There was a fierce quality to her determination that he hadn’t seen before. “I intend to know the truth. I’m going to find out who I am, no matter who stands in the way.”
He tried for a noncommittal expression. “That’s your right.” He wished he could say it was wise, but he couldn’t. For no reason that he could put his finger on, he had the feeling that Amanda Curtiss’s quest could land her in a big bunch of trouble. And him with her, if he let himself be sucked in.
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN AMANDA REACHED the sidewalk a few minutes later she paused, considering. That appointment hadn’t gone as badly as it might have, she supposed. She’d almost become accustomed to the series of disturbing events that had turned her life upside down, right up until she’d tried to verbalize them to a stranger. If the story sounded off-the-wall to her, she could imagine how i
t had sounded to that attorney.
To do him justice, Alter hadn’t escorted her politely to the door and suggested she consult a mental health professional. Maybe he was a bit too staid and reserved, despite his age, for such an act.
Barney pressed against her leg as if to ask why they were standing irresolute on the sidewalk. “Walk, Barney?”
A wave of the tail answered her. Barney was too well trained to give his usual ecstatic bark in public, but there was no denying a walk would suit him fine. And it made a good excuse to have a look at the place that had seemed to hold such significance to her mother.
To Juliet Curtiss, she corrected, starting down the sidewalk away from the law office. Was she ever going to get used to the idea that she wasn’t Juliet’s biological daughter?
Juliet had seen her as a daughter. Hadn’t she said so plainly in her will? That was the important thing, Robert had told her over and over in the past two weeks. He’d been distressed by what he saw as Amanda’s obsession with finding out who she was and where she’d come from.
And as her attorney, he’d been firmly opposed to her leaving Boston at all. “Stay in residence at the brownstone” had been his repeated refrain. That way, if Juliet’s brother did get a hint of any irregularity, he’d have much more difficulty in getting her out.
Amanda couldn’t do it. She couldn’t live her life cautious and afraid. It would have been a betrayal of the way Juliet had raised her. Juliet Curtiss had taken her own course all her life, and she’d taught Amanda to do the same.
Robert had been sympathetic, but he hadn’t understood. As for the attorney he’d sent her to...well, Alter didn’t understand, either. He clearly wanted her to do nothing except, possibly, go away.
Had he been right about the people here and their attitude toward outsiders? So far as she could tell, Echo Falls inhabitants appeared friendly. Instead of the usual eyes averted posture of a busy city, most people she passed here gave her a pleasant smile or a nod.
The main street of Echo Falls was lined on either side by small shops and offices. A gift shop, a bank, a bookstore...she checked them off as she passed. Ahead of her was the town square, with a small plot of grass, a fountain and a memorial to someone or other. The redbrick buildings around it looked solidly turn of the century. Another bank anchored one corner, while the town hall and the public library accounted for two more. The last was occupied by the local newspaper.