by Marta Perry
Trey wasn’t all that sure Amanda was going to be upset. In his opinion, she’d been expecting it all along.
Making a sudden decision, he picked up the phone again and called her. When just the sound of her voice saying hello caused his heart to jump, he knew he was in deep. And sinking faster all the time.
“Can we get together, maybe for lunch? Something’s come up I want to talk with you about.”
“What a coincidence. I was just going to call you and say the same thing.” The hint of laughter in her voice assured him that whatever it was, it wasn’t bad. “Do you want to go to Esther’s again?”
“Let’s try for a little more privacy this time.” An idea struck him. “How do you feel about a picnic?”
“Picnic?” she echoed.
“You know. The kind of thing where you bring your food with you and have it outside. An alfresco meal, so to speak.”
She laughed. “Idiot. I know what a picnic is. Are you expecting me to rush off and make potato salad?”
“Let’s be unconventional. I’ll get the food and pick you up. Barney can come, too. That should make him happy.”
“I’m sure it will. We’ll be ready. When?”
He glanced at his watch. “Say forty-five minutes?”
“Sounds good. That will give me time to change and dissuade Sarah from loading us down with a little of this and a little of that. See you soon.”
“Don’t discourage her if she mentions pie,” he added, hanging up. He shoved a day’s accumulation of work aside without regret. This was business, wasn’t it? At least, to some extent.
An hour later Trey was setting a couple of bags on a picnic table at Green Lake. “What do you think?” He gestured toward the scene—the water glowing with color as it reflected the turning leaves on the trees surrounding the small lake.
“It’s beautiful. I had no idea this was here. It can’t be more than ten miles or so from Amos and Sarah’s.” She gestured to Barney, and he dashed off, nose to the ground, tail wagging furiously.
“Surprisingly, not that many people frequent the spot. The lake is too cold for swimming most of the year, and motorboats aren’t allowed, so that cuts down on the traffic.” He began setting food out on the table. “I took the easy way out and stopped at the deli counter. I hope there’s something here you like.”
She surveyed the spread. “Looks as if you got some of everything. I’m not that fussy, believe me. And as you supposed, Sarah sent pie, half an apple and half a cherry pie. Apparently she thought you’d be hungry.”
“So I am.” He sat down on the bench opposite her. “Let’s help ourselves while we talk. Why don’t you start with your news?”
She speared a dill pickle from the container. “I don’t suppose it amounts to a great deal, but I had a visitor this morning. Lisa Morgan. Apparently she was Melanie’s best friend in high school.”
“I know Lisa and Bart. But I didn’t know that. Well, no reason I should. They are older than I am, and I didn’t really get to know them until we were all adults. Lisa and Melanie. I wonder why she didn’t come forward before.”
Amanda shrugged. “I suppose she didn’t realize it was important. But she did introduce herself to me in town one day. Remember? I mentioned it. Apparently hearing that my parentage was confirmed made her decide to talk to me.” She hesitated, looking down at the cabbage and beet slaw she’d just put on her paper plate. “It was rather touching, actually.”
“I guess it would be. What did she have to say?”
Amanda’s account of her conversation with her mother’s friend was clear and concise. Right up until the moment when she pulled out the photograph of herself with Melanie. Then tears filled her eyes, and she blinked rapidly as if trying to force them away.
He took the photograph when she held it out to him, holding it carefully by the edges to avoid causing it any more damage. Trey actually found his own throat getting thick. Not so much at the sight of Amanda, beautiful baby as she was, but at Melanie’s look of sheer joy.
“Cute baby,” he said, handing it back. “I especially like the little wisp of hair standing up on top of your head.”
She took the bait, her tears vanishing in a half smile. “Suppose I take a look at your baby pictures one day?”
“I’ve already told my mother she’s not to show them under any circumstances.” He grinned. “Amazing the ways your parents find to embarrass you, isn’t it?”
For a moment he thought he’d been insensitive, but Amanda smiled back. “My mother once insisted on showing the current boyfriend a picture of me at seven with no front teeth. It’s a wonder he didn’t run at the sight.” She sobered. “Seriously, though, I was moved by the image of Melanie. She’s very different from the immature girl in the pictures I’ve seen.”
“Responsibility made her grow up fast,” he suggested.
“I suppose so. I’m sure she had regrets, but from what Lisa said, I wasn’t one of them.” She put the photograph away. “What did you think of Lisa’s account of the way things went?”
“Pretty much the way we figured, but it was good to have it confirmed. And to have an inkling of how Melanie got back here. That’s one thing that bothered Carmichaels. I don’t suppose anyone even thought she’d hitch a ride with a trucker.”
“It fills in some of the blanks, at least. And what Lisa said about the possibility of suicide—well, I never believed in that anyway, but it confirmed it for me. If she cared that much about what happened to me, she wouldn’t have deliberately robbed me of a mother.”
He studied Amanda’s face, moved by what he saw there. “You’re beginning to know Melanie, aren’t you?”
“I guess I am.” She sounded surprised. “Strange, that she could come to life for me when she’s been gone all these years. I didn’t expect to find that when I started looking for my parents.”
Amanda seemed to notice that his plate was empty, and she slid the pie from its container and brandished a knife. “Apple or cherry?”
“A sliver of both, please.”
She shook her head but did as he asked. Barney came bounding back then. He was too well trained to beg, but his nose told him there was food on the table, and he raised his head to sniff the air.
“No chance,” Amanda told him. She reached into her bag and pulled out a plastic bag of dog treats. She tossed one, and he caught it deftly and wolfed it down.
“Well, you said you had something to tell me. Can you eat pie and talk at the same time?”
“I’ll try, but Sarah’s pie deserves my full attention.” He put his fork down to judge her reaction. “Robert McKinley called the office this morning.”
“Uncle Robert?” She sounded surprised. “Why? What’s wrong? Why didn’t he call me?”
“Reading between the lines, I’d say he’s too fond of you to want to break what he thought was bad news. And he’s probably feeling a little bad because Juliet didn’t trust him to handle the situation for her.”
“The adoption,” she said quickly.
“There wasn’t one. At least, the firm he hired did what sounds like a thorough search in and around Massachusetts, especially Worcester and Boston. Nothing turned up. It looks as if Juliet never went through the formality of adopting you. She just...kept you.”
As he’d expected, she wasn’t all that upset. “That’s what I’ve been thinking for some time, especially the more I came to find out about the Winthrop family. She’d have known about them through Melanie, of course, and Melanie can’t have painted a very flattering picture.”
“No. Juliet probably feared that if she started legal action, there would be questions she couldn’t answer about your parentage.”
“She’d have thought the Winthrops would take me away from her. Which I suppose they could have done?” she asked.
&nbs
p; “In a heartbeat, I imagine. Juliet didn’t really have any claim on you that would stand up in court, other than her unsupported word that your mother wanted her to care for you. She was wise not to risk it.”
“I got the best end of the deal.” Amanda’s tone was firm. “I’m a better person for Juliet’s influence on me. If I’d grown up in that house, I’d probably have rebelled, like my mother. Or turned bitter, like Carlie.”
She fell silent, musing on that possibility.
“There was more from Robert.” He met her gaze when she looked up. “He says that Juliet’s brother has hired an attorney. Robert’s convinced he intends to contest the will.”
“I’m not surprised. I didn’t think he’d let it go, not if there was a chance of money in it for him. What does Robert want me to do?”
“He thinks you ought to try to settle it out of court.”
“Is that what you advise, too?” She shot the question at him.
“It’s what any attorney would advise under the circumstances,” he said. “I’m sure you’d rather fight it out, but court battles are expensive in themselves, and it’s risky. Juries can be unexpected, as can judges. You might end up with the lot, but more likely the court would recognize some claim on his part. You’d end up sharing, anyway.”
He waited for an explosion, remembering her opinion of her mother’s brother, but to his surprise, none came. She seemed to be considering it.
She glanced at him, smiling at his expression. “You expected me to give you an earful about that idea, didn’t you?”
“You did seem pretty adamant about it earlier.”
“I’ve learned something since then. And I talked to Jacob about it. He gave me some food for thought.”
He hoped he didn’t look as startled as he felt. “What did Jacob have to say?”
Amanda shrugged. “He helped me think about what’s really important to me. And what’s worth a battle. Does Robert expect an answer right away?”
“I think he’ll expect you to call him to discuss it in the next few days.”
“Right.” Her tone effectively ended the discussion. She began putting disposable trash into one of the bags. “Are you finished, or do you require more pie to keep you going?”
He grinned in response. “Maybe later.” He put lids on containers, coming around the table to her side as he packed them away. “Have you heard anything more from the Winthrop family?”
“No.” She frowned. “That’s a little odd, now that I think about it. Elizabeth was so vehement about my moving in that I’d expected to be badgered.”
“Maybe she realized she’s met her match in you,” he said lightly, brushing a strand of hair back from her face and letting his hand linger against her smooth skin.
She smiled. “I doubt that. Or at least, that she’d admit it.”
“Why not?” he said. “I do.”
He’d come dangerously close to saying he loved her, and he could see the startled withdrawal in her eyes for an instant. Then she covered his hand with hers. “A bit of a public place, isn’t it?”
“Nobody comes here this time of year.” He kissed her, forcing himself to keep a tight rein on his emotions. “But I’ll behave.” He dropped another light kiss on her lips. “We’re making progress, I see.”
“Progress?”
“Barney has stopped trying to come between us.” He glanced at the dog. “In fact, I think that might almost be a look of doggie approval.”
She laughed, her warm breath caressing his cheek. “The only thing he approves of right now is that bag of leftovers you’re holding.” She drew back, letting her hands trail down his arms. “We’d better go.”
Trey nodded, finding he took pleasure in the thought that she didn’t want to stop any more than he did.
* * *
WHEN THEY WERE in the car heading back toward the farm, Amanda sought a topic that would keep them safely away from emotional matters. “Did you hear anything from Chief Carmichaels today? Any news on Shawn Davis?”
“Sorry, I forgot. I did talk to him. Robert’s call sent it right out of my mind. No news at all. They haven’t found any trace of him.”
He was frowning, straight brows drawn down. In profile, Amanda was very aware of his sharply cut cheekbones and the strong lines of his face. It was the kind of face that wouldn’t change much with age.
“That worries you?” she asked.
“I’d expect someone in the surrounding area to have spotted that bike of his, at least. It looks as if he’s gone to ground. Frankly, I’d rather he kept running.”
She nodded. The farther away Davis was, the better, as far as she was concerned.
Trey muttered a startled exclamation and hit the brakes. She looked ahead of them and saw what he had—two police cars, lights flashing, pulled onto the side of the road.
“That’s Carmichaels.” Trey pulled in neatly behind the cars and got out. “Stay here.”
Curiosity impelled her out of the car. Barney leaped out after her, pressing protectively against her side.
“What’s going on?” Trey called.
A patrolman started to wave them on, but Carmichaels, seeing them, stopped him.
“Where the devil have you been?” he barked. “I called your office looking for you.” Carmichaels looked from one to the other of them.
“We went out for lunch. Just heading back to the farm. Did you catch up with Davis?”
“Not exactly.” Carmichaels gestured to what Amanda now realized was a gravel road, leading through the woods and up toward the ridge. “They’re logging up on Joe Mills’s land. One of the drivers called in. They spotted the motorcycle. See for yourself. Looks like he just shoved it in the undergrowth and left it there.”
Moving forward in the direction he indicated, Amanda saw the glint of chrome through the thick growth of bushes on the edge of the woods. “Why would he do that? I’d think he’d want to get away.”
“He probably does.” Carmichaels grunted the words. “Young Sam had a look at the bike. Says it conked out on him.”
“That explains what it’s doing here, then,” Trey said. “Do you think he hitched a ride?”
Carmichaels shrugged. “It’s what he’d want to do, but there’s precious little traffic along this road at night. No, I figure he’d try to make it on foot over to the interstate and get a ride there.”
“Makes sense, I guess. But what was he doing here? He’d have been well past this spot before you lost him, wouldn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Carmichaels and Trey exchanged looks.
“So he was headed back. Toward the Burkhalter farm.” Trey’s face had tightened, as if the skin was drawn tightly against the bone.
“We don’t know that.” The chief glanced uneasily at her. “He might have been trying to get to one of his buddies. Someone who’d hide him and help him get away.”
She was trying to decide whether that was reassuring or not when Barney set up a salvo of barking.
“Drat that dog. What’s he doing?” Carmichaels took an angry step toward the sound.
Amanda hurried past him. “Sorry. I’ll get him.” Rounding the bike at a careful distance, she headed for the dog. “Barney, quiet. What’s gotten into you?”
The barking turned into a whine that was nearly as bad. She broke through a cluster of berry brambles. She saw Barney—saw what he was standing over. Her stomach roiled, and she put out a groping hand to grasp the nearest tree.
Black leather jacket, black denims. Shawn wasn’t wearing the motorcycle helmet now. The back of his head was a bloody mess.
She found enough breath to call out. “Trey! Chief Carmichaels!”
Sinking against the tree, she fought down the nausea that rose in her. She should say more, should tell them what she’d fou
nd...
Men crashed through the bushes, obviously drawn by the horror in her voice. Barney abandoned the motionless form to press himself against her. She buried her hand in his warm fur, holding on.
The next few moments passed in a blur. She was aware of Trey’s arm around her, supporting her, of a steady stream of low-voiced profanity from the chief, of the other officers gathering, mute.
“Don’t just stand there,” Carmichaels ordered. “Get crime scene tape up around the area where the body is. Sam, get on to the state police. We’ll need their crime scene team here ASAP. Then get the camera and start taking photos. Here and the bike. That better be roped off, too.”
His arm around her, Trey eased her farther away from the body. “You want us to clear out?”
Carmichaels frowned at him. “Not yet. Wait till I have time to talk to you, but move back to the road.”
Once they were out of range, Amanda found her rubbery legs could carry her. But she wasn’t eager to give up the feel of Trey’s arm around her.
“Better?” he asked, scanning her face.
“Much.” She tried for a smile but didn’t succeed. “Sorry. I’ve never seen...”
“Neither have I. Not like that, anyway.”
They leaned against the car, prepared to wait. Amanda ruffled Barney’s ears and tried to focus. “What did the chief mean? About the state police, that is. Won’t he be in charge of this?”
“They’ll probably work together,” Trey said absently, his gaze focused on the moving figures they could see in the woods. “Small towns don’t have the facilities to process a complicated scene like this. It’s not as simple as they make it sound on TV shows.” He glanced around. “For all he knows, the cop cars may have already eliminated evidence just by parking here.”
“Evidence?” She straightened, wondering if she should pick up her feet.
“Somebody did that to him. He didn’t make that whacking great hole in the back of his head by himself. And that somebody must have gotten here somehow.”
