Nicole’s heart skipped ahead of itself. “And the portrait hanging on the wall in the hall? That was in a crate?”
“That’s right,” Patricia said. “We had some restoration work done, based on some of the other photos of the family in the collection.”
Nicole wouldn’t leave without seeing those photos, but for now she wanted to know who else had seen them. She calmed herself and said, “That sounds like just the sort of thing Quinn would be interested in. He’s always been curious about family trees.”
“As a matter of fact, Quinn surprised us one morning not long after we got the crates. It was early in the summer, I think. He sometimes helps out. As soon as he saw the portrait, he volunteered to index all the items. He was a great help.”
Nicole glanced at Dani and then back at Patricia. “Would you mind showing us what Quinn looked at?”
“You’ll have to be very careful,” Patricia said. “We haven’t finished archiving everything.”
“I promise,” Nicole said. “We’ll be careful not to disturb your organization of the photos.”
“Why don’t you have a seat at that table?”
Patricia gestured to a wooden table with six chairs that Nicole guessed was a hundred years old. Dani followed her, and they waited for the past to unfold before their eyes.
10:26 a.m.
Jack walked his new client to the door. They’d had a brief conversation at the health fair before the storm rolled in, and she had been eager to come to the office for a consultation about the status of her aging mother’s estate. A retainer check sat on Jack’s desk. The facts seemed straightforward, but he’d verify a few points of Illinois law before writing a letter that would serve as his opinion. He shook his client’s hand a final time and returned to his office to review his notes. While she was talking, he’d thought briefly about whether he should bone up on elder law and promote that part of his generalist portfolio. He saw plenty of gray heads around Hidden Falls. With the right wording added to his business card, it could be a steady income stream.
But it wouldn’t be as interesting as proving that Ethan Jordan was a Tabor descendant. If Jack did that, the entire town would take notice.
Jack heard movement in the outer office. “Did you forget something?” he called out.
Even on carpet the footsteps sounded heavier than the slight woman who just left.
“Jack?” The voice was male.
Jack got up and went out into the reception area, his mood lifting immediately at the sight of Ethan Jordan.
“Come in, Ethan.” Jack offered a vigorous handshake. “It was quite a weekend, wasn’t it?”
“Certainly not anything I expected,” Ethan said.
Jack led the way back into his office. Instead of sitting behind his desk, he angled two visitor chairs toward each other and sat in one of them. Ethan took the other.
“How’s your patient?” Jack said. “My wife forwarded an e-mail from the church prayer chain that said you did brain surgery this morning.”
“It was a simple procedure,” Ethan said, “and Lauren is doing well.”
“Good. Glad to hear that.”
“I thought maybe we should talk about what happens after this,” Ethan said.
Jack reached for a folder on the corner of his desk and handed Ethan a printed document. “I’m one step ahead of you. Here are some avenues I recommend we explore.”
While Ethan scanned the document, Jack launched into his explanation. First, he would take steps to legally establish Ethan’s genetics. Proving a connection by using DNA might depend on finding the current generation of Tabors, but the documents they had looked at the previous day would be extremely helpful. Jack was not convinced the Santorelli firm had been involved in Quinn’s investigation—why would he use a private detective so far away on this matter? Nevertheless, Jack would contact them to be sure. Perhaps Quinn had traced Tabors to Pennsylvania.
Next Jack intended to investigate what was left of the Tabor fortune, if anything. No doubt their business interests had been folded into larger concerns or taken on new legal identities, but all indications in the files Jack possessed pointed to the fact that the family’s finances had survived the Depression and thrived in following decades.
Then Jack wanted to locate the man known as Merrill Tabor. He would be about eighty, so he could very well still be alive, but if he wasn’t, he might have several generations of descendants to whom Ethan was related.
Jack tapped his file folder. “I have Merrill Tabor’s date of birth. I suspect it will only take a day or two to find that Dennis Pease was born on or around the same day. That will beef up evidence that Harold Tabor was willing to trade his sickly child for Stephen Pease’s healthy boy. He had a fortune at stake. He had motivation.”
Ethan flipped to the second page of the document. “I didn’t realize you were going at this with such … enthusiasm.”
“I think we have a strong case,” Jack said. “Of course the transaction was completely unethical and illegal. No doubt all the individuals who were party to the agreement—which I suspect was just the two fathers—are deceased, but if we discover that any succeeding generations had any knowledge of the contract and made personal gain by suppressing the information, this could be fascinating for both of us.”
Ethan looked up from the document. “I keep thinking about the man in the photo who looks like me.”
“Harold Tabor. Your great-grandfather.”
“He’s standing in front of a Pease grave, an infant grave.”
“That’s what we believe, yes.”
“I don’t suppose we’ll ever know who took his picture,” Ethan said, “but Harold Tabor must have been there because he believed it was his son’s grave.”
Jack nodded and tented his fingers in front of his chest. “Based on what we know, that’s a reasonable conclusion.”
“He looks sad,” Ethan said simply.
For a second, Jack let the sensation float through him of what it might feel like to stand at the grave of one of his children. Even a man heartless enough to reduce his son to a business deal that would protect his fortune would feel something. After all, his son had been sick. Harold Tabor expected him to die. Yet he could not mourn publicly, because everyone believed he had a healthy heir at home. Ethan raised a good question—who had taken the photo? A cemetery was not a typical backdrop for casual photos. Did someone else know? Maybe Harold Tabor had paid off the photographer—purchased the image in exchange for the silence of the person who took it. Jack would have to go through the old files again, looking for another suspicious transaction. If Harold Tabor would put in writing his agreement with Stephen Pease, he would also want assurance that he could not be blackmailed again. Jack reached for a pen to make a note of what to look for.
“I wonder what his wife thought,” Ethan said. “What about his brother? Or his parents? Wouldn’t they see the change in the baby?”
Jack smiled. He liked the questions Ethan was asking. “I doubt Harold chose a random child of a poor truck driver. He must have seen the child and knew there was a resemblance. And a sickly child who seems to improve dramatically could take on a new appearance that people would attribute to better health.”
“I suppose so,” Ethan murmured. “But a mother knows her own child.”
Jack turned his palms up and stated the obvious. “She was in on it. She wouldn’t be left childless. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman lavished love on a substitute child to cover her own loss.”
“I hope she did love him. I hope they both loved him and that Merrill Tabor, whoever he was, grew up happy.”
Jack sucked in a controlled breath. The conversation was taking a turn he had not prepared for. Ethan Jordan didn’t sound ready to strike out on the path to the justice he deserved. Jack decided to follow the lead of Ethan’s mood with a point already on his list.
“Since we know that the child Stephen Pease took in grew up to be your mother’s father,” Jack s
aid, “and we know Harold Tabor raised a son named Merrill, we have to wonder who is buried in that grave. Perhaps there’s another suffering family out there, and we could bring peace somehow.”
Ethan took too long to reply, and Jack’s thumb began to twitch.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done,” Ethan said. “You put a lot of thought into this, but I didn’t come here because I was planning to take any legal action.”
“If you’re concerned about the fee, we can come to a contingency agreement,” Jack said.
“Well, it’s true that legal fees could be difficult. I already have a mountain of debt from medical school.” Ethan handed back to Jack the pages outlining legal options. “I’m not trying to upset anyone’s life. I just thought I might like to have photocopies of the documents from your files. There might be a time in my future when I need to put the pieces together.”
“That’s what I’m offering to help you do,” Jack said.
“I’m not being clear,” Ethan said. “I mean just for my own understanding. Maybe for my mother, if she decides she wants to know more. I’m not going to track down the Tabors and disrupt two or three generations of family.”
“But they’re your family.”
Ethan shrugged. “Genetically, perhaps, but that’s all. I just want to be able to answer my mother’s questions. After all, she’s my mother no matter who her father was.”
Jack was starting to panic. “You only found out all this information in the last few days. You don’t have to decide anything right now. I was surprised you came in today at all.”
“Jack,” Ethan said. “I know you’d love to chomp your teeth into this just the way I love a good medical case. But I don’t want to do it.”
Jack stared into unbudging brown eyes.
“Will you make me photocopies?” Ethan asked. “I’m happy to pay some sort of document fee, if that’s the way lawyers do things.”
Jack’s stomach sank.
“I’d like the will and the contract, and anything else you might think is relevant—birth certificates? Marriage certificates?”
If Ethan intended to take this information to another attorney, Jack hoped he would have the good sense not to do it in legal circles Jack would hear about.
“After that,” Ethan said, “I would really like you to just lose the file again. It’s been buried all these decades already. You can burn it or shred it or do whatever lawyers do with files they are not required to maintain.”
If Ethan had any smarts, he would ask for the originals, not photocopies. As long as Jack kept the originals, Ethan might still come back.
“I won’t destroy them,” Jack said. “A few months from now, a few years—you might change your mind.”
“I won’t.” Ethan’s tone sounded final, even to Jack.
Jack’s mind raced. Perhaps he didn’t need Ethan at all. Harold Tabor’s brother had three sons who would have inherited if Harold had not bought another man’s son. There could be three or four generations by now who were cheated out of a substantial inheritance.
And what about the family whose child was buried? Was Jack just supposed to let go of another action that almost certainly involved a crime?
“I’ll make those copies right now.” Jack got up, found the papers, and turned on the small photocopier behind his desk. He put the copies in a fresh manila envelope and handed it to Ethan.
“Thank you,” Ethan said. “I’m asking you, please, to let this go. Will you?”
Now it was Jack’s turn to be slow to answer. “I’ll need to think about that. I’ll want to be certain of my own obligations under the law with the information I know.”
“Jack.”
“I’ll have to let you know. Why don’t I walk you out?”
11:05 a.m.
For the first time in more than a week, Liam was productive at his office. He still lacked the number of leads and appointments needed to sustain a healthy business, but that wasn’t on his mind. He spent the time cleaning client files, making sure all information was current and records above reproach. The risk was still great that his career would be halted with a phone call or a knock on his office door. He chose not to hide or to behave as if he’d done something illegal with any of his accounts. Instead, if he was plucked out of his routine, anyone who came in after him would find everything in order.
It was a good feeling.
The morning had started early with Cooper’s request to have Liam at his side during Lauren’s procedure. After days of not eating, and with the upheaval of the weekend, Liam’s appetite was unpredictable. When it surged, though, he paid attention, and this brought him to the Eat Right Here diner on Main Street for a very early lunch. In fact, he ordered a hearty breakfast platter minutes before the kitchen shifted to its lunch offerings and now inhaled its mixed fragrances. Liam had his eyes closed with a deep breath of anticipation when someone slid into the bench on the other side of the booth. His respiration caught briefly as he imagined who might be there to confront him and bolstered his determination to remain calm, whatever happened.
Liam opened his eyes. “Dani.” Beside his cousin was Nicole, still arranging herself and her crutches before maneuvering into the seat.
“Hey.” Dani reached for a menu propped up in a shiny holder. “So nice of you to buy us lunch.”
“My pleasure.” Liam turned on the charm. “Have you been at the hospital all this time?”
“Nope. Historical society.”
Liam laughed. “No, really.”
“It’s the truth,” Nicole said. “I haven’t heard from Ethan all morning, so I assume Lauren is still doing well.”
Liam picked up a slice of bacon. “Wait. Go back to the part about the historical society.”
“You think I don’t have any culture?” Dani stole a slice of bacon off Liam’s plate.
“Not the historical society kind of culture. We’re both deficient in that regard.”
“Well, there’s some pretty interesting stuff happening there these days.”
“I’m listening.”
Liam’s chewing slowed down as Nicole explained the painting in the Town Hall building and the assortment of Tabor photos that had come into the historical society. A waitress came, and Nicole and Dani ordered.
“I haven’t figured out how Quinn talked them into giving him that picture,” Nicole said. “And I didn’t ask in case he didn’t ask, if you know what I mean.”
“Quinn wouldn’t steal a marshmallow at the county fair,” Liam said.
“I know. But just in case.” Nicole arranged her silverware. “We didn’t find any other copies of that particular photo, but we found enough to remove any doubt that the man who looks like Ethan is Harold Tabor. He’s holding a baby in one of them.”
Dani slapped her palms on the table. “I don’t believe it.”
“You were there,” Nicole said. “You saw for yourself.”
“No. Not that.” Dani looked over Liam’s shoulder. “Robert what’s-his-name is here.”
Liam turned his head. “The guy with the dark hair and the hoodie eating pancakes at the table by himself?”
“That’s him.”
Liam reasoned it was a good thing somebody with a broken ankle was between his cousin and her suspect or Dani would have leaped out of the booth to tackle Robert Doerr again.
“I can’t believe they let him go.” Dani slumped and stared.
“That guy is your guy? The guy you think vandalized your boat?”
“In what way am I not being clear?” Dani said. “Yes, doofus, that’s what I mean.”
“Then Cooper should have held him while he had him,” Liam said. “It’s pretty gutsy for Doerr to show his face, but he has to eat, and I guess he wouldn’t go back to the Falls Shadow Café.”
“Why not?” Nicole asked.
“Because last Sunday he tried to steal a purse at the café. Jack Parker is the one who ran him off, but I don’t think anyone knew who he was.”
> “Jack Parker?” Dani said. “Annoying, superior attitude Jack Parker?”
“He’s not so bad.” Liam kept Jack’s card in his wallet now. He had made up his mind that if he needed an attorney on short notice, he would call Jack.
Dani waved off Liam’s remark. “Now we know this guy’s name, and you and Jack could identify him. I hope Gavin knows the woman whose purse he took. We’re going to need her to press charges.”
Liam lifted his chin to point toward the door. “Take it up with Cooper right now. Here he comes.”
Nicole lowered one shoulder to look over it. “Uh, I think this is not the moment. I don’t think Cooper is here for lunch.”
In his uniform, Cooper had another sheriff’s deputy at his side. The two of them marched through the restaurant. Robert Doerr pushed his chair back and knocked it over as he scanned for a way out. When Cooper moved closer, Doerr gripped the edge of the table and turned it on its side. Gasps rose up around the restaurant as people scrambled out of the way. A third deputy emerged from the kitchen and blocked the only rear exit, trapping Doerr.
“Robert Doerr,” Cooper said, “you’re under arrest for grand theft auto and burglary.”
Cooper’s companion moved in with handcuffs while Cooper identified specific charges and read Doerr his rights. The two junior deputies marched the suspect out the front door. Liam saw now that a squad car was parked directly in front of the diner.
Cooper stopped at his brother’s booth.
“Bro!” Liam said. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”
“Car theft and burglary?” Nicole said. “Do you mean Quinn’s car? Sylvia’s shop?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss active investigations.”
That was all Liam needed to hear. He was pretty sure there were no other active investigations into auto theft or burglary in Hidden Falls. If there were, the rumor mill would be buzzing.
“Wow,” Liam said. “You caught him.”
“It was the prints,” Dani said. “You caught him because of the prints you got because he took a swing at you—which only happened because I caught him first.”
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