For the first time, I saw just the hint of a smile curve Beatrice’s lips. “True. I suppose you might say that they were well suited. And she was a fine gardener.”
Ah, a saving grace, I thought.
“She produced three sons before she died. The hacienda brides usually have a knack for producing heirs.”
And for dying young.
“Except for your father’s brides,” Beatrice said as she led the way to the next picture. “Neither of them gave him a son.”
I glanced up to see a painting of a fragile-looking beauty with long blond hair and blue eyes. She wore a long-sleeved dress that matched the color of her eyes, and the cat on her lap was either Hannibal or one of his more recent ancestors.
“That’s Sarah McKenzie.”
Once again I marveled at how little in the way of feelings Beatrice allowed into her voice. This was the woman who’d deserted Beatrice’s brother for Sloan’s father. I stepped forward to study the portrait more closely. She was lovely with a kind of ethereal beauty that men might easily covet. “It must have been very hard for Dad when she ran away with Sloan’s father.”
Once again Beatrice’s gaze grew intent. “How did you know that, or are you beginning to remember?”
“Sloan told me the story,” I explained. Thank heaven he had. I was going to have to be careful to remember what I’d been told since my arrival and what I knew from Pepper’s report.
“It was a scandal at the time. A McKenzie running away with a stable manager.”
I heard just a hint of distaste in her voice.
“I imagine it must have been a blow to Dad both in a business and personal sense, losing both a stable manager and a wife.”
“The business never faltered. My husband took over as manager of the stables. And James is very resilient. He married again in less than two years.”
This time I was almost sure that I heard a note of disapproval in her voice. She led the way to the next portrait. “This is Elizabeth, your mother.”
I simply stared at the portrait. I couldn’t even put a word to what I was feeling. All I could think of was that the woman staring down at me could have been my sister. My heart had leaped to my throat and it beat there, fast and hard. Many of Elizabeth McKenzie’s features were ones I saw in the mirror every day—the nose, the pointed chin, even the shape of the eyes. Hers were a darker shade and more hazel than green. Her hair was different, too, a dark blond, and she wore it in a long braid that fell over her shoulder.
Questions flooded my mind. Could this be my biological mother? How else could Cameron and I look so much like her? But if that were true, how could Cameron and I have been put up for adoption? Pepper had found adoption records for both of us. And someone else knew about those papers—the someone who’d sent me that anonymous letter.
Questions—too many of them were swirling around in my mind. And as usual, I was jumping to too many conclusions. I struggled to rein my imagination in.
“Do you remember her?”
Beatrice’s calm voice helped me to get a grip. I couldn’t ask any of my questions right now. Not until I knew more. Not until I figured out what had happened to make Cameron run away.
I turned to her. “No. I can see the resemblance, and I know that she must be my mother. But I don’t remember her at all. How did she die? You never got to tell me last night.”
“Come,” Beatrice said. “I’ll show you.”
She led the way out of the ballroom and down the corridor to a wide oak door. “Your father keeps it locked,” she explained as she drew an iron key out of her pocket and inserted it into the lock. “No one is supposed to come up here, but I do every once in a while. I used to love this place as a girl.”
The door creaked on its hinges and Beatrice had to put her back into it to get it open. In front of us was a wooden staircase that curved upward hugging the stone wall and hanging next to us was a thick rope. With a sinking stomach, I realized that we were going to climb into the bell tower.
I didn’t like heights. Two or three stories—like the balcony in Cameron’s room—was fine. But put me on a terrace or a balcony or, heaven forbid, a rooftop that was more than four or five stories above terra firma, and I froze. My parents took me to Europe when I was fourteen, and I couldn’t even kiss the Blarney Stone. I’d nearly had a panic attack when we went to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
I told myself that the bell tower was only five stories as we rounded the first curve and continued upward. The stairs were flanked by the stone wall on one side and a railing on the other. Following Beatrice, I stayed near the wall and kept my hand on it for support. My palms were slick with sweat. My breath was coming shorter now, and it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I was climbing stairs.
We reached the tower room much too quickly for my liking. It was small, not more than eight feet square. The bell was overhead, and the walls on each side were only waist high. Beatrice crossed to the wall that overlooked the front of the hacienda. “Isn’t the view beautiful?”
“Yes.” I was sure it was, but my eyes were shut. I couldn’t bring myself to look yet. A cold sweat had formed on my forehead. Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand on the iron railing that ran along the top of the wall on all sides. Opening my eyes, I kept them downcast as I felt my way along. Then I raised my gaze to the bluffs that I’d stood on only yesterday. Of course, there I’d been careful to stay back from the edge. I’d be all right as long as I didn’t glance down, I told myself.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the riding ring where Sloan was working Saturn. Knowing that he was there steadied me a bit.
“I’ve missed the bells,” Beatrice said. “When I was a girl, they were rung for the Angelus at 6:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m. every day.”
“Is the bell broken?” I asked. I wasn’t looking at the bluffs anymore, but at Sloan and the horse.
“No. But the tower has a bad history, I’m afraid. The first Countess Montega threw herself from this very spot.”
My vision blurred, and I blinked my eyes to clear it.
“After her son was born, she fell into a habit of walking in her sleep. The official story goes that she wandered up here one night and fell.”
I couldn’t keep myself from picturing it in my mind—that tiny woman I’d seen in the portrait, climbing the stairs in her sleep, walking out into the tower and falling…falling….
A wave of dizziness moved through me. I gripped the railing with both hands now, and my vision blurred again. I could imagine how easily someone could fall over it.
“Of course, that was the story that they gave the priest,” Beatrice continued. “If she’d committed suicide, she couldn’t have been buried in the church. Her husband and son would never have been able to eventually rest beside her.”
“You think she committed suicide?” I asked. I made the mistake of shifting my gaze to her, and another wave of dizziness washed over me.
“You saw her portrait—those sad eyes. I’ve read some of the entries in her diary. I think she was homesick for Spain, and I think she was unhappy in her marriage. One night she wandered up here, and it would be so easy to just lean over the edge and let yourself fall. Don’t you think?”
I didn’t want to think about it. I shifted my gaze back to Sloan and drew in a deep breath.
“Then everything would be all right,” Beatrice continued. “The loneliness and pain would be ended.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her words effectively formed the image in my mind again. I took several quick steps back from the wall.
Beatrice reached out and grabbed my hand. The strength of her grip surprised me. “Be careful. The back wall is just behind you.”
I turned to see that I was only a foot away from it. My head was spinning fast now. “I…I need to get out of here.”
“Heights bother you? I had no idea,” Beatrice said as she led me to the stairs.
“Yes.” I slapped my hand against the stone wall to
steady myself.
“Sit down,” Beatrice instructed, “and put your head between your knees.”
I did as she said, and after a moment the dizzy feeling subsided. When I raised my head, I found she was sitting next to me.
“I didn’t realize you were afraid of heights. If I’d realized it, I wouldn’t have brought you up here.”
She sounded worried and sincere. It was the most emotion I’d ever heard in her voice. “I thought that if I brought you here, you might remember something.”
“What would I remember? You said that the tower has been closed off for almost twenty-five years. So I could never have been up here before.”
Beatrice’s gaze became intent again as she studied me. “I thought you might recall the story. Your mother followed in the first bride, the Contessa’s footsteps. She threw herself off of the tower. That’s why your father locked the doors and forbade the ringing of the bells.”
My mind filled again with the horrible image of someone falling to the ground below. My voice sounded hoarse to me when I said, “How old was I?”
“Just a baby.” She laid her hand over mine, and without thinking, I gripped hers tightly.
For a moment, I concentrated on gathering myself. It wasn’t just the vertigo that was affecting me. I was still struggling to absorb the suspicion that had formed in my mind when I’d looked at Elizabeth McKenzie’s portrait—that I might be her biological daughter. I had to moisten my lips to ask, “Could you please tell me what you know?”
“It happened a few months after your father and mother brought you back from Europe,” Beatrice replied.
“Why?”
“Why did she do it?” Beatrice’s tone was musing now. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know for sure. Doc Carter might give you more of an insight. Elizabeth never quite recovered from her pregnancy with you. She didn’t want to have children. She had her art. She told me once that she hadn’t even wanted a husband, but she’d fallen in love with James. And my brother can be very persuasive.”
Tell me about it, I thought. Beatrice wasn’t looking at me. She was looking straight ahead at the stone walls of the tower as she continued, “She agreed to have a child for James, and he’s always blamed himself for her death.”
I thought of how the story paralleled in a way my own adoption. My mother hadn’t wanted to take a break from her medical training to carry a child. “Why didn’t they just adopt?”
The look Beatrice gave me suggested that the answer was obvious. “Your father wanted an heir, someone with McKenzie blood.” Then she slipped her hand from mine, glanced down at her watch, and rose. “It’s nearly nine-thirty. You’ll want to change for your tour with Sloan.”
I looked at my jeans. My elegant sister would probably not wear these even to ride around the ranch.
“We’ll go down slowly. I’ll lead the way, and you stay right behind me. If you get dizzy, we’ll sit and rest.”
As we descended the stairs, my mind continued to spin. But this time it was with questions. My inner Alice was now on full alert.
What had caused Elizabeth to commit suicide? And could her tragedy somehow be connected to her daughter’s disappearance?
Chapter 12
The moment I entered my room, I raced for my cell phone to see if Pepper had called back. But I hadn’t taken it with me—I’d barely wanted to touch it since that threatening call had come in last night. I hadn’t recharged it, either, so I held my breath as I checked to see if the battery had worn down. It hadn’t.
I sank onto the bed, and Hannibal voiced his disapproval. I turned to find him still on his self-claimed throne. He really gave added meaning to the phrase “squatter’s rights.”
“Don’t you have to eat or pee or something?”
His only reply was a bland and superior stare. And no wonder. Of course, he didn’t have to go anywhere to eat when I was providing a seemingly endless supply of cat tidbits. I rose and got him a few more from the cabinet. And I bet he had his own secret methods for exiting and entering Cameron’s room when I wasn’t there. He hadn’t moved from his position during the night—not even when I’d climbed in and stolen one of the pillows for myself.
“Look,” I said as he disposed of the cat treats. “I know this is hard for you. But we have a common goal. You want Cameron back and so do I. You might think about cooperating a bit.”
He seemed to be listening; at least he wasn’t licking his claws or hissing or making any other threatening gesture. Satisfied for the moment, I turned my attention back to the phone and saw I had a message. I held my breath while I retrieved it, but it was Pepper’s voice with one word. “Call.”
I punched her number into my phone, then held my breath again and prayed that she’d pick up.
She did on the second ring. “Brooke?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got an update. It looks like Austin and both Lintons were indeed in Las Vegas. At least, their credit cards were. Cole is checking it out further as we speak.”
“Marcie Linton told me that Austin had reformed.”
“As of five weeks ago, he hadn’t. He dropped close to ten thousand as far as Cole can tell. Tomorrow, Cole’s going to San Diego to check on the flower show that Beatrice was presenting at. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” I’d had a little argument with myself about just how much I was going to tell her and I’d decided on as little as possible—and certainly not about the phone call. I didn’t want her rushing out here with Cole. Not yet anyway. “But I think I may know who my mother is.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Wait.”
I could picture her grabbing her notebook, then turning to a fresh page.
“Okay, who?”
“Elizabeth McKenzie.”
“James’s second wife?” Pepper asked. I heard a little plop. Had she dropped her pencil?
“It shocked me, too. And I could be wrong. But I’ve seen her portrait and I look like her. The story they’re telling here is that Cameron was born in Switzerland. I thought at first the trip might have been made to hide the fact that Cameron was adopted. But since I saw Elizabeth’s portrait, I think the trip to Switzerland was for something else.”
“To cover up that two little girls were born and only one was brought home?”
“Maybe.” My stomach clenched. I was finding it hard to accept the fact that we were talking about me. The little girl that wasn’t brought home.
“But why?” Pepper’s tone was thoughtful and I could hear the tapping of a pencil. “I found adoption papers for both you and Cameron in the records of a private adoption agency here in the States and no clue as to the mother.”
“Which effectively stopped you from checking further,” I pointed out.
“Yes, it did.”
I heard a trace of annoyance in her voice.
“A Doctor Carter went on the trip with James and Elizabeth.”
“Hmmmmm,” Pepper said. “I’ll bet the good doctor is in this up to his ears.”
“That would be my guess. He’s a close family friend who appears to be very kind and concerned. I can’t imagine him having anything to do with Cameron’s disappearance, but I’m thinking he might have sent me the letter. And he doesn’t have an alibi for the day of Cameron’s disappearance. He claims he was home using this putting green he has in his backyard.”
“I’ll get my brother Luke to let his fingers do the walking on his computer keyboard. He’ll check out your good doctor and if there are any records anywhere, he’s the best bet we have of getting to them.”
Just talking to Pepper was settling my nerves a bit. There were answers to the questions that were whirling in my mind, and we’d get them.
“I’m liking less and less the fact that you’re there alone,” Pepper said. “Why don’t I join you? You can say that you need the comfort of having a friend from your present close at hand while you’re exploring your past. Something like that.”
“Really?”
“I’d like to know what his relationship with Cameron was before she disappeared. In your report, you said they met through Austin and Marcie. If they were having an affair, someone in Linton’s business circle might have been aware of it.”
“I’m on it. Anything else?”
On impulse, I said, “Check into Beatrice’s husband. He ran the ranch for a while after Sloan’s father ran away with Sarah McKenzie. But he’s not here anymore, and no one talks about him. I don’t even know his first name.”
“I’ll get it.” I could hear Pepper scribbling. “Cole thinks I made a mistake, that I should have talked you out of this masquerade—which is a dangerous plan. His words.”
I drew in a deep breath. “Well, the good news is I’m going to be leaving here by Friday evening.”
“That is good news,” Pepper agreed. Then after a beat, she said, the frown clear in her tone, “That’s tomorrow. It’s not that I’m not happy about it, but why do you have to get out of there so soon?”
I cleared my throat. “Because James has decided to move up the wedding. Tomorrow night Sloan and Cameron are going to be tying the knot in a small, private ceremony in the hacienda’s chapel.”
“Wait. Time-out. He wants you to marry Sloan Campbell tomorrow?”
“That’s right. But don’t worry. That’s not going to happen.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“I know you, Brooke. If you haven’t found what happened to your sister by tomorrow, you won’t leave.”
“That’s why I’m calling you. I need anything you can find out ASAP.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Gotta go. Sloan is giving me a tour of the ranch to see if he can stir up any memories. Find out what you can.”
A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing Page 23
