by Marta Perry
Chief Carmichaels emerged from the trees, walking toward them. “Guess I should thank the dog. Not that we wouldn’t have found him anyway, making a routine search like we’d have done.”
“Any idea how long he’s been there?” Trey asked.
Carmichaels frowned. “Hard to say until the coroner’s seen him. But the logging truck drivers saw the bike when they started up about sunrise, most likely a little before seven.” He made a disgusted sound. “Course they didn’t bother calling us until they’d taken the trucks in and out a couple of times, messing up any tracks there might have been.”
“He was murdered.” Amanda still had difficulty accepting that, even though some isolated part of her brain suggested she should be getting used to the results of violence after what happened to Juliet.
“Somebody picked up a chunk of stone and hit the back of his head with it. We found the stone. Probably too rough to give us much in the way of fingerprints, but the lab boys may bring up something.” He pulled out a small notebook and thumbed through it. “Now, about you two. Where were you from the time you went back to the farm until, say, about seven this morning?”
A jolt of anger broke through Amanda’s numbness. “Are you saying you suspect us?”
Carmichaels stared at her, startled by her tone. But it was Trey who intervened.
He clasped her hand. “Of course he doesn’t. But this is routine for an investigation. If...when the case comes to trial, a defense attorney might try to pick holes in the police case by claiming they hadn’t done a thorough investigation.”
“Exactly right.” Carmichaels’s jovial tone didn’t quite come off, but he was trying. “Just for the record.”
“I saw Amanda back to the farm, talked to everyone for a few minutes and then headed for home. That was it. I didn’t go out again until I left for work this morning.”
Trey had taken the initiative. Mollified, Amanda followed his example. “More or less the same for me. The family was worried about me and wanted to hear about what had happened, but then I went to the cottage and turned in early. And I couldn’t have taken my car out again without being seen or heard by someone.”
The chief, jotting down notes, nodded in satisfaction.
“Okay, now that that’s taken care of, let’s get serious,” Trey said. “This must be related to Davis’s attempts to harm Amanda. So this proves that someone else was involved. Maybe that someone feared Davis would betray them if he were caught.”
Carmichaels didn’t look entirely convinced. “Could be, could be. But you’re assuming Amanda’s affairs are the only thing Davis was involved in. I told you he’s been skirting the law for a couple years now. The state police drug team have had their eye on him, but no proof. Could be other people who had reason to want to get rid of him.”
It sounded reasonable, but Amanda found she wasn’t convinced. Neither, judging from his expression, was Trey.
“I think Amanda should have police protection.” His jaw set. “We all know that Davis’s murder is more likely to be connected to his actions against Amanda than anything else. There are four people in the Winthrop family who stand to lose if Elizabeth should change her will.”
“I don’t want—” she began, but Trey interrupted her.
“Whether you want the money or not doesn’t enter into it. What matters is how they’re thinking about it.” He glared at Carmichaels. “Like I said, she needs police protection.”
The chief looked harassed. “Come on, Trey. Be serious. You know I don’t have that kind of manpower. Maybe there’s something in what you say, but I can’t seriously suspect any of the Winthrop family of sneaking around in the woods and cracking Davis over that head.”
“Not even if he threatened to expose them? Blackmail is a powerful reason to get rid of the blackmailer.”
“That’s speculation.” Carmichaels’s tone was flat. He’d obviously decided. “And even if it weren’t, I still wouldn’t have the manpower. To say nothing of how Amos would feel about having a cop planted on his farm.”
“Amos would want Amanda to be safe.” They glared at each other like two dogs about to snarl.
“This is pointless,” Amanda said. “I don’t want police protection, and I’m not asking for it. I feel perfectly safe where I’m staying. No one can get near me without Barney or the farm dogs giving the alert. I’m only a cell phone call away from help.”
“Amanda...” Trey began, but she shook her head.
“You’re being overprotective. And before you say that I should move into town where you can keep an eye on me, I’ll tell you. I won’t do that, either.”
Carmichaels eyed them with what might have been amusement. “I don’t think you’re going to change her mind.” He looked up at the sound of an approaching vehicle. “That’ll be the boys from the state police lab now.” He sounded official again. “You two can go. I’ll keep you posted.”
Trey looked as if he’d continue the argument. Amanda tugged at his arm.
“Let’s get out of the way of the police. Come on. You can drive me the rest of the way home.”
He nodded, and when they were both in the car, he glanced at her, a question in his eyes. “Home?” he asked. “When did the Burkhalter farm come to be home?”
Amanda had spoken without even thinking, but she realized now what his question implied. She really had begun to think of Sarah and Amos, to say nothing of Jacob, as her family.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WHEN SHE ARRIVED at the Winthrop house early in the afternoon of the following day, Amanda slid the local newspaper she’d picked up in town under the seat. It hardly seemed tactful to have headlines reading Motorcyclist Killed left where anyone might see.
She wouldn’t have come anywhere near the place today had it not been for a summons from her great-grandmother, delivered via a phone call from Mrs. Lindstrom. When she’d waffled a bit, Helen Lindstrom had lowered her voice.
“Please come. She’s not doing very well today, and it might do her good to see you.”
Amanda had had no choice but to agree, but she privately thought that an encounter with her today wouldn’t add to anyone’s peace of mind, let alone her great-grandmother’s. And the last thing she wanted to do was to encounter Carlie while the vision of her late boyfriend’s body was fresh in her mind.
Leaves had begun to fall from the mature trees in front of the house, she noticed as she walked to the door. She’d guess the Winthrops had a lawn service, since the days of having a personal gardener seemed long gone.
The door opened even before she reached it, and Helen Lindstrom welcomed her with a quick smile and a furtive glance behind her, as if to make sure no one else was around.
“Worried someone might see me?” she murmured.
The woman’s pale face flushed slightly. “Sorry. It’s just that Mrs. Winthrop said there was no need for anyone else to know she’d sent...asked you to come over, and wouldn’t you know it, both Mr. Shay and Ethan came home for lunch today.”
She may as well be amused as annoyed. “I’ll try to avoid them. Do you want me to go straight up to my great-grandmother?”
“You can’t. I mean, the doctor is with her now, so you’ll have to wait. You will, won’t you?”
Mrs. Lindstrom looked so anxious that she nodded quickly. “No problem. But is she ill? I didn’t realize.”
“Well, she’s nearly ninety, you know, even though she doesn’t like reminding of it. Dr. Milburn says she has angina and heart failure, but she doesn’t accept that, either.”
This was said with a little vicarious pride, as if refusing to admit to age and illness was a virtue.
“Since I’ll be waiting anyway, maybe we could have a chat. I’m sure you could tell me some stories about my mother when she was young.”
Helen’s eyes
filled with a kind of reminiscent warmth. “Best of the bunch, she was, and don’t you let anyone tell you otherwise. She was the only one who would stand up to her grandmother, and they had some fine battles, that’s for sure.”
“She must have been a rebel, running off the way she did.” And trying to keep me. It hadn’t worked out that way, but she had to honor Melanie for trying.
The woman nodded, glancing around again. “I’ve never seen Mrs. Winthrop so angry. But that’s the way it was between them. They made each other furious, but they loved each other more than anyone, too.”
“It’s sad that they never had a chance to make it up.” Such a waste, holding on to anger that way.
“If Melanie had come back, or even called her grandmother and told her about the baby—about you—she’d have welcomed her home in an instant, not that she’d admit it. And now it’s too late.”
Too late. Surely those were the saddest words in the language. She knew all about longing to have someone back, even just for an hour, to say all the things that had been left unsaid.
A step sounded somewhere in the house, and Helen jerked as if she’d been shocked. “Maybe it would be best if you waited in the garden until the doctor is finished. Would you mind? No one will be out there this time of day.”
“That’s fine.” Clearly this wasn’t the time to probe for memories of her mother. She’d have to get to Mrs. Lindstrom away from this house for that.
The woman showed her past the sunroom and on out into the garden behind the house. The trees here were mature as well, and the rather formal garden seemed to have settled into its current pattern over many years. She started down a flagstone path and quickly found that Mrs. Lindstrom had been wrong about one thing. The garden wasn’t empty. Ethan Shay sat on a wrought-iron bench, his head bent over the sketchbook on his knee.
She didn’t make any effort to quiet her footsteps, but Ethan was so engrossed he didn’t detect her presence. Only when she stopped behind him did he look up, flinching. He made a quick motion as if to hide his drawing.
“Too late,” she said. “I’ve already seen it. And why wouldn’t you want to show that? It’s lovely.”
The delicate fronds of a small weeping willow, overhanging the stones of a low retaining wall, had been drawn with a grace and sparseness that startled her.
For an instant Ethan regarded her suspiciously. Then, seeming to accept that she wasn’t attempting to flatter him, he let a tentative smile appear on his face.
“I don’t know about that, but at least I got it down. The way it is in my mind, you know?”
“I think so. I was the despair of all my mother’s colleagues, because I was hopeless from an artistic perspective. But I had to develop some appreciation—I couldn’t spend years with my mother and not do that.” She hesitated, knowing how sensitive people could be about showing their work. “May I see more?”
He held the sketchbook between both hands, hesitated and then thrust it toward her, turning away as if he couldn’t bear to watch her look at his drawings.
Amanda took her time, sensing that Ethan’s fragile confidence could be shattered at a word. She studied each drawing. Finally, she closed the book and turned to him.
“One question. Why are you doing work you obviously dislike instead of pursuing your gift?”
His face settled into a sulky frown, making him look like a discontented teenager. “Easy for you to say. Your mother might have appreciated what I can do. My family can’t. Don’t you get it? I’m the only male of my generation of Winthrops.” The savage way in which he said the words made it clear he was quoting someone.
“I guess. My mother didn’t understand my passion for veterinary medicine, but she still supported my dreams.”
“You were lucky, then.” He brooded for a moment, and then abruptly his mood seemed to change. “Is it true? That you had something to do with Shawn Davis’s death?”
Well, it had been in the newspaper. She could hardly expect that he wouldn’t have heard. “Not anything to do with it, except that my dog found him.” She couldn’t repress a shudder. “Is your sister very upset?”
He shrugged. “I can’t tell. Nobody can. Shocked, maybe. But I never thought there was much of that on her side. She was just determined to jolt the parents.” He gave a short laugh. “She sure did that. Dad was furious, and as for Grandmother—well, you don’t ever want to see her that way.”
Actually, she’d already seen the worse of Elizabeth, as far as she could tell, and was still standing. But there was little use saying that to Ethan, who obviously didn’t consider rebelling.
“Ethan!”
The sound of his father’s voice galvanized Ethan. He looked around wildly. Donald wasn’t in sight, but his footsteps were coming in their direction around the curve of the flagstone path. Ethan cast an agonized look at the sketch pad.
Amanda promptly slid it under her on the bench, the flare of her skirt hiding it.
Just in time. Donald, looking thoroughly irritated, was almost on them. “If you intend to ride back to the mill with me...”
He stopped abruptly when he saw Amanda. It clearly took him an effort to put on a smile. “Hello, Amanda. No one told me you were here.” Maybe realizing that sounded as if he expected a report on what she was doing, he turned on his son. “I expected to find you at the car. It’s time we were going back to work.”
“I’m afraid I held him up,” Amanda said. “He’s been keeping me company while I wait to see my great-grandmother. She wanted me to stop by.”
That was obviously unwelcome news. “I believe the doctor is leaving now,” he said stiffly. “Come along, Ethan.”
With a grateful glance at her, Ethan followed.
Amanda waited until they were out of sight before she rose and picked up the sketch pad. Maybe Mrs. Lindstrom could be counted on to return it to Ethan privately.
She approached the door with care, looking through the glass panels for any sign of movement. An encounter with Carlie was best avoided now. But no one was in sight except Mrs. Lindstrom, beckoning to her.
As she went to join the woman, Amanda had just enough time for a quick thought. How accurate was Ethan’s assessment of his sister’s feelings for Shawn? If she hadn’t cared for him, did that make it more or less likely that she’d use him as a tool to get rid of Amanda?
Holding out the sketch pad to Mrs. Lindstrom, she spoke softly. “Can you get that back to Ethan without anyone knowing?”
The housekeeper didn’t seem to need an explanation. “I’ll slip it into his room.” She tucked it under her arm and motioned toward the stairs.
“How is she?” Amanda followed her.
“She’s weaker than the doctor likes,” Mrs. Lindstrom said. “She should rest, but she insists on seeing you.”
Amanda wasn’t all that eager for a confrontation, either. “I’ll try to cut it short if she’ll let me.”
They stopped at an upstairs door, and Mrs. Lindstrom tapped lightly before opening it. She gestured Amanda in with a warning look.
Entering her great-grandmother’s room, Amanda shoved thoughts of Carlie from her mind. Was it too much to hope someone had kept the newspaper from Elizabeth, at least, this morning?
Elizabeth wasn’t, as she’d half expected, in bed. She sat in a Queen Anne armchair by the window, her neatly shod feet on a cushioned ottoman. She was pallid in the morning sunlight, but she gave Amanda one of her usual glares.
“I expected you earlier.” There was no trace of feebleness in her voice.
Was the accusation a technique, designed to put the other party in a defensive posture from the start of the conversation? If so, she declined to play.
“I understood the doctor was with you, so I waited.” She took the chair opposite to her great-grandmother. “I hope the doctor was able to h
elp.”
Elizabeth gave an unladylike snort. “He fusses too much. Every time I get a little excited, the whole bunch of them think I’m going to pop off.” She paused, eyeing Amanda. “That would suit them, you know. If I died without changing my will.”
“I’m sure they’re thinking no such thing.” It was the only possible response, but she did wonder. How much did Donald count on maintaining control of the mill? And what about Carlie and Ethan? If she’d left them anything directly, they might see it as a pass to freedom.
“If you believe that, you’re a fool. But I don’t think you really do.” Elizabeth leaned back, satisfied.
Did the old woman read minds? Or was she that transparent?
“You may as well know now as later.” Elizabeth’s mouth clamped shut for a moment. “I’ve spoken to my attorney about doing just that. You’re Melanie’s child, illegitimate or not, and it’s only fair that you have her share of the property.”
Amanda watched the elderly face just as intently as the woman had been studying her. “The rest of the family wouldn’t believe this, but I think you might. I don’t want anything from you.”
“Why not? As I understand it, if you weren’t legally adopted, your inheritance from your foster mother is in doubt.”
Now how did she know about that? Or was it simply guesswork?
“Even if, as it appears, Juliet didn’t legally adopt me, I still won’t walk away with nothing.” At least, that was Robert’s expectation, and she agreed. Juliet’s brother would prefer quick cash to a long-drawn-out court battle that would cost him. “Besides, I have my profession. I’m not going to starve. I’d rather not owe anyone anything.”
“Your profession.” Elizabeth dismissed it with a gesture. “You can move in here and never have to work again.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.” She’d like to believe Elizabeth would accept that as final, but she couldn’t bank on it.
“Why not? This was your mother’s home. You belong here.”
“Juliet Curtiss was just as much my mother, but I don’t necessarily belong in her house, either. I’m a grown woman with a life of my own.”
