"And you just happened to be hanging out with Alex Manning the other day as his mother told me? Please, Miss DeMarco, don't insult my intelligence. You're that girl and I'm going to prove it."
"Why would you want to?"
"Because it's a great story, and the newspaper never lets me write about anything but celebrities. This is my big break. I can help you. I've already found someone who worked at the orphanage. If you really want to know who you are, you need me."
"I know who I am," Julia said flatly. "I don't need you for anything." She walked out of the station, hoping to leave Christine behind, but the woman followed her onto the sidewalk.
"You say that now, but you'll change your mind," Christine said. "I'm very persistent. I don't give up."
"And you won't change my mind," Julia retorted. She wondered if she could make a fast break for her car, which was parked just down the street. That's when she saw a man watching her. He was built like a linebacker with a square, muscular body. Dirty blond hair showed beneath a baseball cap. A pair of dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and he wore a tan jacket over slacks. She couldn't tell his age, but he was probably in his fifties. As Julia stared at him, she wondered why he didn't look away, why he was searching her face as carefully as she was searching his. Was he another reporter? He certainly didn't look like one, but she hadn't had that much experience with the press.
"Miss DeMarco," Christine said, drawing her attention back to her. "Please, let me tell your story. I really need this break."
Her smile was meant to be disarming, but Julia didn't buy it. "I'm not your break," she said, "and I'm busy."
Christine thrust her card in Julia's face. "Call me anytime, night or day."
Julia took the business card and stuffed it into her pocket. As Christine left, the man came toward her. He said something she didn't understand. It took her a moment to realize he was not speaking English. He repeated his comment in a more agitated, determined voice, his arms gesturing. She backed away, his tone making her nervous.
The door to the radio station opened behind her, and two of her coworkers came out. She latched onto them in relief. "Hey, where are you guys going?" she asked, feeling there was safety in numbers.
"Coffee. Want to come?" Tracy asked.
"Yes, sounds great." She cast a quick look over her shoulder. The man had moved down the street, but he was still watching her. She linked arms with Tracy and walked in the opposite direction. She was probably letting her imagination get the better of her, seeing danger where it didn't exist, but Brady's warning that her questions could get her into trouble was still fresh in her mind. She didn't want to suddenly disappear as Alex's father had. Until she knew which people in her life were telling the truth and which ones were lying, she'd trust no one.
* * *
A half hour later Julia was back in her car, driving across town to her apartment. Her coworkers had walked her to her car after she'd mentioned the strange guy who appeared to be watching her. Much to her relief, he'd disappeared. She pulled into a parking spot in front of her building and got out. As she did so, she saw Liz heading up the steps. When it appeared that Liz was planning to ignore her, Julia called out for her to wait. Liz made a face but did as she was asked, tapping her foot impatiently on the ground. "What?" she asked.
"I want to go up with you."
"Why? You haven't wanted to do anything else with me."
Julia sighed, wondering how long her sister's bad mood would last. "I'm getting really tired of your attitude, Lizzie."
"Likewise, sis," Liz said sarcastically. "By the way, the family—our family, if you still consider them family—wants to throw you an engagement party at DeMarco's in a couple of weeks. Aunt Lucia wants you to call her and pick a date."
"What did you tell her?"
"Nothing. I'm staying out of your so-called wedding plans."
Julia thought that was a good idea since she knew a conversation with Michael was long overdue. To her credit, she had tried to call him from the radio station, but he'd been out on his boat. She'd have to catch up with him later.
Julia and Liz walked up the stairs together. Liz seemed to have nothing to say, and Julia didn't know how to break the silence without drawing another sarcastic remark. "I wish we could be on the same side," she said as they reached their door.
"I'm on the DeMarco side. I don't know what side you're on."
Julia blew out a frustrated breath and opened the door. Her jaw dropped at the sight of their apartment. It looked as if a bomb had gone off. The room was in shambles. "Oh, my God!" She put a hand to her mouth, feeling like she was going to be sick.
"What's wrong now?" Liz demanded, pushing past her, only to stop abruptly and gape in amazement. "Someone broke in," she said, stating the obvious.
"I can't believe this," Julia said, dazed. Their home hadn't been just robbed, but ransacked. The drawers in their desk had been dumped on the floor. The CD cases were open and broken apart. The cushions on the couch and the upholstery on the kitchen chairs had been slashed. Fear swept through Julia at the violence of the burglary. She grabbed Liz by the arm. "They might still be here," she whispered. "We have to get out."
Julia looked toward the hallway and the closed bedroom door. They never closed the bedroom door. They turned and ran.
Chapter Twelve
Julia and Liz didn't stop running until they reached the sidewalk, where they drew in gulping breaths of air.
"We have to call the police." Liz reached for her cell phone with a shaky hand. "Oh, God, Julia, you don't think they're going to come after us, do you?"
"No, of course not." Her chest heaved as she struggled to calm her racing heart. "They're probably gone. I just didn't want to take a chance. Not after I saw what they'd done to the cushions on the couch and the chairs. They must have had knives."
Liz paled. "Let's get farther away," she suggested.
"Good idea."
When they reached the other side of the street, Liz made the call while Julia stared up at her bedroom window, which faced the street. She thought she saw the curtain move. Was someone in there watching them? She heard Liz talking to the police and knew she had to call Alex. She pulled out her cell phone and punched in his number, relieved when he answered right away.
"You have to come over," she told him, her lips trembling so hard it was difficult to get the words out. "Someone broke into my apartment. They might still be there."
"I'll be right over. Stay out of the apartment, Julia. In fact, you should get yourself to someplace safe."
"Liz and I are across the street. She's talking to the police. It's the middle of the day. Nothing will happen to us here," she said, hoping it was the truth.
"Keep your eyes open," he advised. "I have a feeling this burglary wasn't random."
"I don't think it was either, Alex. They didn't steal our stereo or our television, but they slashed the pillows on the couch like they were furiously angry or completely crazy."
"Or looking for something in particular," Alex said. "Do you have any idea what that could be?"
"I don't know. I can't think. I'm shaking."
"All right, relax. We'll figure it out."
"Maybe the swan necklace or the matryoshka doll," she said. "Maybe that's what they were looking for."
"Do you know if they were taken?"
"They're still in my purse from our trip to Buffalo." She put a hand on the strap looped over her shoulder.
"Hang on to that bag. I'll be there in five minutes."
Julia closed the phone and saw that Liz had finished her call. "What did the police say?"
"They're on their way." Liz gave Julia a worried look. "This has something to do with you and that photo, doesn't it?"
"I have the terrible feeling it does."
* * *
The police arrived at the same moment as Alex. They searched the apartment first, then let Julia, Liz, and Alex into the living room. The damage was as bad as Julia remembered. All the t
iny pieces of their lives were strewn across the room: magazines, books, knickknacks, the fabric Liz had been working on, and Julia's CD collection. Even the pictures on the wall had been stripped down and thrown onto the floor. It didn't look as if the burglars had missed one inch of the room.
The police asked them to look around and see if anything was taken. It was impossible to tell with the mess, but obviously expensive items and even a twenty-dollar bill on the kitchen counter had been left untouched, which was even more worrisome. After a long discussion about whether they had any enemies or knew of anyone who might have wanted to hurt them, the police said they believed the apartment had been turned by a pro, someone who was looking for something in particular.
Julia glanced to Alex, wondering if she should mention the photo and the Russia connection, but saw by the almost imperceptible shake of his head that he thought it would be better to keep that information to themselves. But she could give the police something. "There was a man watching me when I left work today. He made me so nervous, I didn't go to my car; I went and got coffee with my friends. When I came back a half hour later, he was gone." She gave them the description of the man, although she could tell by their expressions that they believed it was a stretch to connect some man who might have been watching her to the vandalism done in her apartment.
"Are you going to tell them about the picture?" Liz whispered to Julia.
"There's nothing to tell yet," she murmured. "I don't think we want more media attention, do you?"
"No," Liz replied, a scowl on her face.
"We're done for now," one of the officers said. "You should both be careful. If they didn't find whatever they were looking for, they may be back. Stay with friends tonight, and if you think of anything that will help us investigate, give us a call." He handed Julia his card.
Julia slipped it into a pocket, her fingers coming into contact with the card Christine Delaney had given her earlier. She had a feeling she wouldn't be calling either one of them, but she said, "Thank you."
Michael arrived as the officers were leaving. His eyes widened in shock when he saw the state of their apartment. "What happened?" He looked from Julia to Liz, his gaze settling on Alex. "Who are you?"
"This is Alex Manning," Julia said, realizing they'd never actually met. "Michael Graffino."
The two men sized each other up, then connected for a brief, wary handshake.
"So, what's going on?" Michael asked again.
"Isn't it obvious?" Liz asked. "Julia's search has now put us in danger."
"Someone broke into your apartment because of the photograph?" Michael echoed in surprise. "Are you sure?"
"No, we're not sure," Julia replied. "We don't know."
"What we do know," Liz cut in, "is that nothing was taken, but everything was ripped apart by a big, sharp knife."
Michael's attention shifted to the cushions on the couch. His skin turned pale. "God! What if you'd been here when they came? You could have both been killed."
That thought had crossed Julia's mind as well. And she could see that his words had stirred Liz up even more.
"We're lucky that didn't happen," Julia said.
"Lucky? You call this lucky?" Michael asked sharply. He shot Alex a hard look. "What do you think about all this? You don't seem to be saying much."
"I think Julia has it covered."
"And I think Julia needs to stop this craziness before something worse happens."
"She can handle herself," Alex replied.
"And she can speak for herself, too," Julia interrupted, drawing their attention back to her. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions until the police finish their investigation." Actually, she was already jumping to conclusions, but she didn't want to share them with Michael or with Liz. She needed to talk to Alex alone. But Michael would have none of that.
"Why don't you leave?" Michael said to Alex. "I'll take care of Julia and Liz." He put a protective and proprietary arm around Julia's shoulders.
She could hardly knock it off, but she didn't like the way Michael was staking his claim, or the way Alex was looking at her, as if he couldn't believe she was standing there letting Michael take control. She sensed the situation was on the verge of exploding into something even worse.
"Maybe you should go, Alex," she said quietly, silently pleading with him to understand.
Alex hesitated, an unreadable look in his eyes. Then he shrugged. "Sure. Call me later."
Julia had to fight the urge to run after him. She was far more interested in talking to him about what this break-in might mean than in dealing with Michael and Liz, who were both annoyed with her. But she knew she couldn't leave. She had to talk to them first. She owed them that much.
Liz walked over and shut the door behind Alex, then put her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she stared at Julia and the destruction surrounding them. "This is scary," Liz said. "What kind of people are you mixed up with?"
"I don't know," Julia muttered.
Michael pulled her around so he could gaze into her eyes. "Julia. Please. I'm asking you. Let this search of yours go. Call the newspaper. Tell them they were wrong. You're not that girl. And your family needs to be left alone."
"Don't you understand, Michael? It's too late. Everything is in motion. I told the reporter I wasn't that girl. She didn't believe me. And it's obvious that someone who saw my picture in the newspaper thinks I'm that girl. And it looks like that someone believes I have something that I'm not supposed to have."
"What? What do you have?" he asked impatiently. "Is there more you haven't told me?"
She couldn't even remember what she had told him. Her head was spinning with bits and pieces of information. "I don't know what I have that they want. Maybe it's the swan necklace. Maybe it's the matryoshka doll. It's possible that it's old and valuable. Your guess is as good as mine. I'm just glad they were in my bag, not the apartment."
"So they might come back looking for them, looking for you," Michael said.
"I hope not. And I'm just guessing that that's what they're looking for. I really don't know." She still needed to go to the Russian shop and talk to Dasha's cousin, Svetlana, about the doll. She'd forgotten all about that part of the story. Maybe that's what she would do next.
"Julia, this is too dangerous," Michael said. "If you come forward, if you make a public statement that you're turning over these items to the police, whoever did this might back away."
"Or they might not." She could see the disappointment in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Michael, but I don't want to turn over my necklace and that doll to the police. They're the only clues I have to my past. I have to finish my search."
"At what cost? You and Liz could have been killed. If you aren't thinking about yourself, what about your sister?"
"Yeah, what about your sister?" Liz echoed. "Listen to him, Julia. He's making good sense. Yesterday some man called here. He had a Russian accent. He kept calling you Yulia. And he seemed agitated when I couldn't put you on the phone. He scared me. There was something in his voice." She paused. "I wonder if he was the one who did this."
Julia wondered if he was the same man who'd been outside the radio station. Maybe she shouldn't have run from that man. Maybe she should have stayed and confronted him, instead of taking off like a scared child.
"You need to back off," Michael urged. "If you show complete disinterest in the story, perhaps the press will move on to something else."
"I think Michael has a point. Without you, the story has no teeth," Liz added.
How could she fight both of them? Julia wished Alex hadn't left. She could have used another person on her side. "I'm sorry," she repeated, with a helpless wave of her hand, "but I can't stop. The reporter told me today that she spoke to someone who worked at the orphanage in Russia. She's digging deep and digging fast. She's determined to solve the mystery of that little girl with or without me. Even if I do nothing, she's moving forward. I need to stay ahead of her, just in case..."
&nb
sp; "In case what?" Liz asked.
She drew in a breath. "In case I have to protect Mom's reputation."
"What does that mean?"
"I'm not sure yet, but there's a good chance that Mom and I were in Russia when that picture was taken."
Liz's gaze darkened with some emotion. "How do you know that? Do you have proof?"
"I'm working on it."
"What did the person at the orphanage tell the reporter?" Liz asked. "Could she identify you?"
"No, apparently she just said that the employees were threatened with death if they spoke of the girl at the gates."
"Oh, come on. That's a little dramatic, isn't it?" Michael scoffed.
Julia tipped her head at the mess surrounding them.
"And this isn't dramatic? I think someone made a very powerful statement here today."
He couldn't argue with that. "All right. What are you going to do next?"
"Start cleaning, I suppose," Julia replied.
"You can't stay here. You'll have to come to my apartment. We'll go from there."
"There's no room at your place. You're living with your brother. And what about Liz?"
"Yeah, what about Liz?" her sister echoed again.
"You can stay with your father," Michael told Liz. He glanced back at Julia and shook his head. "And you—I guess I might as well tell you this now. I was going to wait until it was ready—until you were ready—but since you need a safe place to stay..."
"What are you talking about?" Julia asked, confused again.
"I'm going to start cleaning up the bedroom," Liz said, interrupting them. "I'll be in the other room if anyone needs me."
Her sister certainly seemed eager to be gone all of a sudden. "You don't have to leave," Julia said.
"Yes, I do," Liz said with a nod. "Believe me, I do." She hustled out of the room, making a point of closing the bedroom door behind her.
Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1 Page 84
