by Marta Perry
Amanda’s eyes had grown misty when she looked back at the past, but he was focused on more practical matters. “Would any of the people in that apartment building have known about your appearance in your mother’s life?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “But I’m sure Robert has. And as I said, they were already elderly people. I don’t know if any of them would still be around.”
“Still, it’s a place to check. Maybe you should mention it to him so he can put his investigators on it, if he hasn’t already done so.”
“I will. I want to contact Robert in any event to see if there’s news.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though I suspect he’d have called me with anything good.”
He wasn’t quite sure what to say to her. Legally speaking, he was supposed to be representing her for anything that arose in Echo Falls. McKinley was in charge of the rest. Still, he was concerned.
“I imagine McKinley told you that barring any other claimants, the terms of your mother’s will would probably stand. She looked on you as a daughter, and the court wouldn’t ignore that fact.”
“I know. The trouble is Juliet’s brother. Robert’s afraid he suspects something, although if he knew for certain I wasn’t Juliet’s biological child, he’d be doing more than snooping.”
That changed things. If the brother contested the will on those grounds, anything might happen, depending on the case he made and whether or not Amanda had been legally adopted. He frowned, wondering how likely it was that she had been. If she really was Melanie’s child, he didn’t see how Juliet would have pulled it off without having it become public.
“Wouldn’t her brother have known, one way or the other?”
“Not likely.” Amanda gave a quick shake of her head that sent her silky blond hair shimmering. “He never gave her a thought except to try to borrow money from her from time to time. She’d never have confided in him, I’m sure.”
“That’s a dead end, then.” Amanda really was alone in the world. It wasn’t surprising that she wanted to find out who her biological parents were...
That thought stopped him. Parents. “If you are Melanie’s child, there had to be a man involved.”
“Well, obviously.” She gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t too bright.
Nettled, he tried again. “You’ve never so much as mentioned trying to find your father. Aren’t you interested in him?”
She was quiet for so long that he thought she wasn’t going to answer. When she finally spoke, her tone had darkened.
“I could say that I’m following the only lead I have. That’s true enough. But honestly... I’ve never known what it is to have a father. I guess you can’t miss what you’ve never had.”
They’d come to a stop by the fountain in the square, and the splashing water formed a soundtrack to her words.
“I can’t imagine growing up without a father.” He spoke before he realized the words might be hurtful to her. “But I’m sure your mother more than filled the spaces in your life. It can’t have been easy for her.”
“No. All the more astonishing that she did all that for someone else’s child. Is that what you think?”
There went her temper flaring again. Did everyone spark it off, or was it just him? “I’d say it meant she loved you very much.”
Maybe she recognized the honesty in his tone, because the flicker of anger was gone as fast as it had come. “Yes. She did. I really never felt any lack in my life.” She stared at the water for a moment and then turned to face him. “That’s what makes it so difficult to grasp that she never told me the truth. Why? Why didn’t she tell me?”
He didn’t have an answer to that any more than she did. “She must have thought it was for the best, even if you don’t understand why.” That was lame, but it was the only thing he could come up with.
“All the more important that I know the circumstances. What was she afraid of if I’d been told the truth? In all my life, I never saw anything that Juliet feared. She was a strong woman, and she went her own way no matter the obstacles. Why couldn’t she tell me?”
“There might have been a lot of reasons.” He felt helpless to assuage the pain in her eyes. For the first time, he was really seeing what this meant to Amanda, and it seemed to hurt him, too. He took both her hands in his, not caring whether anyone saw them or not. “She might have promised your birth mother that she wouldn’t. Or she could have planned to tell you later on. We all tend to think there’s plenty of time for the things we need to do. Hers was cut short without warning.”
Amanda took a breath and released it, seeming to let go of some of the tension that had gripped her. He could feel it through their clasped hands.
“You’re right, of course. Thank you. I don’t know what I was imagining, but it’s far more likely to be as you say. With insight like that, you must be a very good lawyer.”
She smiled at him, and all he could think for a moment was how kissable those lips were. He shook off the tempting image.
“I try,” he said lightly. Maybe it was just as well that she didn’t know how close the firm had come to disaster on his watch. She wouldn’t think so highly of him then.
* * *
AMANDA DROVE BACK to the cottage as the sun approached the ridgetop. Her stops at the two bed-and-breakfast inns had been futile. One hadn’t been open eighteen years earlier. At the other, the proprietor simply stared at the suggestion that she might remember something that long ago.
Still, it hadn’t been a wasted trip. She had the encounter with Carlie Shay to mull over. In fact, she probably should give Robert a call tonight and bring him up-to-date on that, as well as passing on Trey’s suggestion about the inhabitants of the apartment building. She didn’t have a lot of faith that it would turn something up, but she didn’t want to overlook any possibilities.
And then there was Trey Alter himself. He might annoy her at least 50 percent of the time, but he had shown more empathy than she’d have expected. And that, in turn, had made her open up more than she’d ever anticipated doing.
She might live to regret it, but Amanda didn’t think so. Despite Trey’s reticence on some subjects and his tendency to think he was the authority on Echo Falls, she believed she could trust him. That simple conversation had moved their relationship forward in a way she hadn’t expected.
The blacktop road swung in a wide curve around the side of a hill, and Amanda found that she was facing directly west, into the glare of the setting sun. Squinting, she raised her hand to shield her eyes, glad there weren’t any other vehicles on the road.
She heard the roar before she saw the vehicle—a motorcycle, coming up fast behind her on the narrow road. Well, there was plenty of room. Let him pass her if he was in that much of a hurry.
Instead of passing, the motorcyclist moved in behind her as if they were the vanguard of a parade. Amanda looked in her rearview mirror again, frowning. It was impossible to make out anything about the motorcyclist except that he was male. The black jacket, helmet and reflective sunglasses made him anonymous.
Ridiculous, to let him make her uneasy. People around here probably took their motorcycles out for a Sunday ride on the back roads every week. He wasn’t passing because he wasn’t in a hurry. She was reminded of that unlikely friend of Carlie’s, but the chance that this could be he was remote.
Amanda’s instincts didn’t seem to be in sync with her rationalization. Her nerves prickled, and her fingers gripped the wheel. For a moment she wished for another vehicle—anything—on the road besides her and the anonymous motorcyclist.
As if in answer, a tractor pulling a wagon filled with hay bales pulled out of a farm lane ahead of her. It began its slow progress toward her, hay bales swaying gently.
Maybe it wasn’t what she’d have chosen, but at least she wasn’t alone on the road with
that motorcycle roaring on her bumper. He should have passed her when he could. Now he’d have to wait until the tractor went by.
But he didn’t. At the last possible moment, the motorcyclist pulled out from behind her, swinging around so closely it seemed he’d clip her left fender. Between the oncoming tractor and the motorcyclist, there was suddenly no room.
Idiot. Didn’t he see that he was going directly toward the tractor?
She steered onto the berm, trying to give him space to slip in ahead of her. But he was still crowding her, and she felt her wheels slide off the gravel and into the soft earth. She hit the brakes, and in an instant, the car jerked to a stop. Too late. It tilted into the ditch, flinging her hard against the seat belt.
Breathless, too shocked even to think, she scrabbled for the belt buckle. It couldn’t be too bad, she told herself. The air bag hadn’t deployed, so it couldn’t be. She was vaguely aware of the motorcycle’s roar receding into the distance. He hadn’t stopped, then. Somehow she wasn’t surprised.
She heard the sound of running feet, and then someone pulled open the car door, reaching out helping hands to get her out of the vehicle.
“Stupid idiot,” the man muttered. “Just wish I’d gotten his plate number. I’d settle his hash if I could get hold of him. Miss? Are you okay? Miss?”
Amanda forced herself to focus, gripping the man’s arm. “Yes, I think so. Just shaken a bit.”
“No wonder. What that fool thought he was doing is beyond me.” The speaker was the farmer who’d been driving the tractor—fortyish, sunburned, wearing jeans, a T-shirt and the inevitable ball cap. “If he’d waited two minutes, he’d have had plenty of room to pass. Instead he forces you right into the ditch.”
“He’d been behind me for a mile or two. He could have passed me anytime.” But he hadn’t. He’d waited until his actions were virtually guaranteed to cause an accident.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to think that through at the moment. At least she was in one piece. But the car...
She turned to look at the damage, her rescuer grasping her elbow as if afraid to let her move on her own. “My car. I guess I’ll have to try to get a tow truck to get it out.”
Her new friend climbed down into the ditch to take a closer look, pushing his cap back on his head as he bent over to inspect it. “It hit an outcrop on the side of the ditch, but it doesn’t look like anything worse than a crumpled fender. It’s going to need bodywork before you go very far in it.”
Amanda discovered that her mind was a blank. She’d need to call for assistance, of course. But more importantly, should she call the police and report that she’d been deliberately run off the road? Somehow the thought of explaining that to Chief Carmichaels made her cringe.
She had no proof that it was intentional, any more than she had proof that Melanie Winthrop was her mother. But the two things seemed to hang together in her mind, and she wondered just how much the Winthrop family wanted to be rid of her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AMANDA DISCOVERED SHE was hobbling around the house the next morning as if she were 107 years old. If she were a horse, she’d have prescribed liniment—too bad she didn’t have any on hand.
But she had had a wonderful breakfast, carried up by Sarah and her oldest daughter, who hovered over Amanda to be sure she ate every single bite of it. It had taken quite an argument to convince them that since she hadn’t been up at dawn to do the milking, she really didn’t need both bacon and fried scrapple with her eggs and oatmeal. She’d ended up saying she’d reheat the scrapple for a midmorning snack if she got hungry, and they finally went back to the farmhouse.
A hot shower helped, giving her a chance to assess the wonderful collection of bruises on her rib cage, provided by the seat belt. She should just be thankful she had bruised ribs instead of having gone into the windshield.
Amanda made herself as comfortable as possible on the sofa, a quilt over her legs, a pillow cushioning her ribs and Barney draped across her feet, nursing a mug of coffee and going over the accident in detail.
Accident, her mind said scornfully. That was no accident. It was deliberate.
Was it? She had to think this through before she made any rash claims.
Before she got any further in her thinking, she heard a car outside. For an instant she hoped her vehicle was back already, but that wasn’t reasonable. The damage to the body would take a few days at least, assuming the garage the farmer had recommended made it a priority.
Getting up with an effort, she followed Barney to the door. His tail was waving, so it had to be someone she knew. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised to open the door and find Trey on the other side of it.
“How are you?” His question came before she could speak, and he came inside on a wave of concern.
“I’m fine.” She moved, winced and made a face. “Well, I will be fine. How did you hear about the accident?”
“Sarah called me.” He frowned, reaching out to take her arm as gently as if she were made of glass. “More to the point, why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t think it fell within your legal duties to a client.” That was mostly true. And she hadn’t wanted him to see her when she was shaken and unable to think.
“Here, sit down.” Obviously, he thought she still was. He escorted her to the sofa, where the pillow and quilt gave away her position. “Now, be honest. How do you feel?”
She eased herself down, grateful for his strong hand on her arm, and leaned back gingerly. Trey set a white bag on the lamp table so he could smooth the quilt over her. Then he lifted the bag again.
“Coffee and bagels. Want some?”
“I’ll take a refill on my coffee, but I’d never manage to get a bagel down after the breakfast Sarah fed me. Where on earth did you get bagels in Echo Falls?”
“I have my sources.” He grinned, dispensing coffee, and settled on a chair that he pulled up close to her. “Just don’t tell Esther, okay?”
Esther. For an instant something teased her mind, but then it was gone.
“What?” Trey had become adept at reading her expressions.
“I don’t know. Mentioning Esther made me think of something, but it slipped away before I could grab it.”
“Don’t try, and it’ll come back,” he advised. “Come on, tell. You’re obviously hurting. How bad is it?”
“Bruised ribs, from the seat belt. That’s pretty much all. I’ll be fine in a day or two.”
“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” He lifted his eyebrows.
“It’s a veterinarian’s diagnosis. Don’t fuss, Trey.”
He eyed her for a moment before apparently deciding she was telling him the truth. “Okay. No fussing. But all I know so far is that there was a motorcycle, Phil Shuman’s tractor and hay wagon, and you in a ditch. Tell me the rest of it.”
Her inclination was to minimize, but if she couldn’t tell Trey the whole story, who could she tell?
“I was driving back here. It sounds as if you already know where it happened.”
“I checked it out on my way here. Nothing to see now, of course, but your tire marks.” He frowned. “No skid marks from the motorcycle, as far as I could see.”
“No. He didn’t stop, or even brake.” The hand holding the coffee showed a tendency to shake, and she cradled the cup in both hands, willing it to stop. “He was following me, but he didn’t try to pass until the tractor was almost on us.”
Trey’s frown deepened. “That’s what Phil said, along with some colorful things about the motorcyclist I won’t repeat. You’re leaving out a few details. When did you first notice the biker?”
So he’d talked to the farmer. She might have considered that interfering a few days ago, but now she was just grateful that someone cared.
When had she first spotted the motorcyc
le? She tried to find a landmark. “I heard the bike before I saw it. It seemed to come from nowhere. One minute the road behind me was empty, the next I heard the noise and spotted him on my tail, coming up fast. There hadn’t been anything at all behind me since I’d left town.”
“He came out of a farm lane, then,” Trey said. “I know that stretch of road. There isn’t anything else. Then what?”
Amanda shrugged, not sure she wanted to relive those few minutes. “He stayed behind me for a good while, not even attempting to pass. Then the tractor pulled out and started toward us. All at once the biker pulled out around me, forcing me toward the berm.” She couldn’t help it—her voice shook just a hair at the memory of those moments.
Trey got up, stepped over Barney and sat down next to her on the sofa, putting an arm around her as comfortably as if it were a normal occurrence.
“You’d have nowhere else to go on that road, not with a tractor in the other lane.” Trey seemed to be picturing it in his mind.
“No. It was either hit the motorcycle or drive into the ditch. I picked the ditch.”
“Wise choice.” His arm tightened just for a moment. “Phil was kicking himself for not getting the plate number.”
“No need for that. He focused on helping me out of the car. And I was glad to see him, let me tell you.” It was easier to talk about it now, and she seemed to be thinking more clearly. “I don’t want to sound paranoid, but I don’t see how it could have been an accident. The biker cut me off deliberately.”
“I agree. So was it simple meanness, or something more?”
Amanda glanced at his face, a little surprised that he’d come to that conclusion so quickly. “I don’t know. It could be coincidence, I guess.”
“I’m not a great believer in coincidence. And besides...” He stopped at a startled breath from her. “What is it?”