Sound Of Fear
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Amanda had almost become used to the roar, the way they said people who lived in Niagara Falls no longer heard the sound. But she had been straining to speak above it, so she nodded, following him back away from the rocks.
“Is there anything else you want to see here?” Trey didn’t sound impatient, she’d give him that, but he might well want to get back to work.
“I’d like to find my mother’s vantage point of the falls, if I can.” She felt herself getting defensive. “And no, I don’t think it’s going to tell me anything after all these years. I’d just like to see it.”
He nodded as if it was perfectly reasonable. If he’d been annoyed with her, he had himself well under control. “Sure thing. It shouldn’t be hard to find. Did you bring the photo with you?”
Amanda retrieved it from the pocket where she’d stowed it for safety. Drat the man—why did he never react the way she expected?
Holding the photo, Trey paced slowly along the bank of the stream, looking up repeatedly to compare the view to the image. On the opposite side of the rushing stream, the thick growth of rhododendrons made an impenetrable barrier. The painting had to have been done from this side.
Trey reached a point at which a slight curve in the streambed had left a little spit of sand and gravel. He stopped, making the comparison again.
“Got it. I thought it might have been about here. Take a look.”
Amanda stepped out onto the sandy spot and looked from the photo to the falls. “You’re right. What made you think it might be here?”
He shrugged. “I’ve tried to get a good photo of the falls a few times. This is the only vantage point that lets you get in both the top and the bottom.”
Amanda stood where she was for a moment. She could so easily imagine Juliet on this spot, the legs of the easel shoved into the sand, a brush behind her ear and another in her hand, brooding over the canvas as she so often did.
As for the other person Juliet might have been imagining in the scene...to Amanda’s disappointment she could see nothing at all. Didn’t they say that blood called to blood? If so, either hers was deaf or she was on the wrong track entirely.
Then it hit her. “This whole thing started because the autopsy on my mother—on Juliet Curtiss—showed she’d never had a child. So wouldn’t the postmortem have shown, at least, whether Melanie Winthrop had carried a child to term? If so...”
Trey seized on the fragment of provable fact. “I’m no expert, but I’d think it would. If they bothered to do a full autopsy in a case of accident. But if they did, the results should be in the coroner’s records, and I ought to be able to access those.”
“So, you’re going to check the coroner’s records.” She surveyed him. “You’re going to talk to the police chief. What am I going to do?”
She could swear there was a twinkle in Trey’s eyes. “I suppose it’s too much to hope you’ll go back to your motel and wait for answers. Or better yet, back to Boston.”
“You sound like Robert McKinley,” she said sourly. “I can’t do nothing.”
“I suppose not.” He sounded regretful. “What about the newspaper accounts from the time? I don’t know how much they’d have reported, but it might give you a fuller picture of the events.”
“That was going to be my first stop before you sidetracked me. I suppose the newspaper has the files? I’ve already checked online, but the archives of the paper don’t go back that far.”
Trey bent to ruffle Barney’s ears absentmindedly. “They haven’t been in a rush to digitize them. There’s not that much call for old copies. The historical society has some, but they wouldn’t have digitized anything that recent.”
“There must be some way of finding them.”
He nodded. “The library has all the back issues on microfiche. It’ll turn you cross-eyed searching, as I know from experience, but you should be able to find what you want there.”
“Good.” Something she could do, at least. “I’ll work on that this afternoon and check back with you. I just wish I could find a place to stay in town. That drive back and forth to the motel is getting old already.”
Trey frowned, looking down at Barney. “I just might be able to find a place that wouldn’t mind a well-trained dog around.” He grinned. “Even if he did flunk out of service dog school.”
The tension involved in being on this spot slid away as she smiled in return. “Where? Lead me to it.”
“There’s an Amish farm near here that takes farm-stay guests in the summer. They recently added a cottage, complete with gas heating and lighting. They don’t normally take guests this time of year, but they might be persuaded to accommodate a friend of mine.”
“Is that how everything around here operates?” She couldn’t help but ask the question. “Based on the good old boys’ network?”
He shrugged. “You might be able to ignore your neighbors in the city, but not in a place like Echo Falls. If you’re done here, we can check it out now.”
Her spirits lifted. “Great. Thanks, Trey.” Impulsively she put out her hand.
He took it in both of his, and in that instant the mood changed abruptly. A not-so-lighthearted connection grabbed her, skittering along her nerves from their clasped hands. Their gazes caught, arrested as the attraction ricocheted between them.
The moment seemed to last forever. Then Trey dropped her hand as if he’d seized something hot. His breathing came as fast as if he’d been running, and hers was about as bad.
Well. That was unexpected. Unwelcome, she added defiantly. She didn’t have room for complications right now, so this had to stop before it started. Didn’t it?
* * *
BY THE TIME they’d gotten back to the car, Trey had given himself the lecture of the day—namely, don’t get involved. Relationships were difficult no matter where you lived, but in a small town, they could lead too easily to disaster, as he knew from experience.
Like the situation with Marcie Hampton last year, the then-new teacher at the high school. They’d gone out three times...count ’em, three...and the town had had them all but married.
Worse, Marcie had been infected by the assumptions, thinking their relationship more serious than it was. It had led to a messy breakup that he was determined not to repeat. Since then, he’d been considerably more circumspect.
Trey darted a sidelong glance at Amanda as they reached the main road. She seemed as reluctant to recognize that blast of attraction between them as he was. That should make it easier to keep their relationship strictly business.
He glanced in the rearview mirror to find that Barney was watching him with what seemed like skepticism in his eyes.
“Is the farm with the cottage far from town?” Amanda broke the silence between them.
“Not far. About three miles. Amos and Sarah Burkhalter took over his parents’ dairy farm a few years ago, and they added the farm-stay business to make a little extra in the summer. Sarah and the kids handle most of it. With eight kids between five and nineteen, the extra income is welcome.”
“Eight.” She shook her head. “I know the Amish have big families, but I’m still amazed at how well they manage. I have friends with one or two who can’t seem to keep up.”
“Everybody works on the farm. It keeps them busy and out of trouble, for the most part.”
“I’m sure that boggles the minds of their English farm-stay visitors. I remember the first time I saw a barefoot Amish boy chasing a gigantic Holstein into the barn for me to examine. I wanted to run to the rescue, but luckily I had better sense.”
He frowned, remembering her business card. “I thought your practice was with small animals.”
“Yes.” Amanda clipped off the word, and he saw her hands clench. After a moment, she went on. “I was originally a partner in a large animal practice in Lancaster County. But it...didn’t work out.” Trey had a sense of something suppressed. “So I went back to Boston.”
Her lips closed firmly. Obviously time for another subject of conversation. Luckily, they were coming up on the Burkhalter place.
“Here it is, on the right.” He nodded to where twin silos and a windmill loomed over a cluster of white frame buildings. “Like I said, the Burkhalters don’t usually take guests this time of the year, but I’ll sound them out.”
“Fine.” She looked back at Barney. “We’ll be on our best behavior, right, Barney?”
The dog whined in response to his name, and his muzzle poked between the seats as he attempted to lick Amanda’s face. They both chuckled, and the tension between them seemed to disappear.
When Trey pulled up at the back door of the farmhouse, Sarah was already coming outside with a welcoming wave, her youngest hurrying to keep up. When little Mary Elizabeth saw that Trey wasn’t alone, she took up a hiding place behind her mamm’s skirts.
“Trey, wilkom. We weren’t looking to see you today.” Sarah must be around forty, he knew, but she had a rosy, youthful face, and her brown hair didn’t yet show any signs of gray. She smiled at Amanda. “You’ve brought company. Komm, the coffee is hot and there’s apple pie.”
“Whoa, slow down.” He grinned at Mary Elizabeth, for whom he had a soft spot. “Sarah, this is Amanda Curtiss. She’s visiting Echo Falls for a while. Amanda, Sarah Burkhalter. And that pretty girl is Mary Elizabeth.”
“Sarah, it’s nice to meet you.” Amanda didn’t attempt to shake hands, probably knowing that might make Sarah uncomfortable. She knelt and smiled at the little girl. “I’m Amanda. Would you like to meet my friend?” She pointed to Barney, looking out the car window at them.
When Mary Elizabeth nodded, Amanda opened the door, and Barney leaped out lightly. At a command, he sat at her side, ears cocked, head on one side as he looked at the child. She edged out from behind her mother and petted him tentatively.
While the two of them were getting acquainted, Trey explained Amanda’s predicament. “I thought you might want to rent out the cottage to her.”
Sarah’s question showed in her face as she looked from Amanda to the dog.
“Barney is well trained,” Amanda said quickly. “I can promise he won’t go off chasing the stock. I’d be grateful for the chance to stay here, if you agree.”
“Amanda’s a vet,” Trey added helpfully. “She worked in Lancaster County for some time.”
Sarah’s expression relaxed. “Guess you know your way around a farm, then. Komm, we’ll look at the cottage.”
By the time they’d looked around the simple two-bedroom cottage, Sarah and Amanda were chatting like old friends, and he was confident that this one aspect of her problem was solved. As for the rest...well, he didn’t feel so hopeful. If she was Melanie’s daughter, it would have to be proved, and he didn’t know what Elizabeth Winthrop’s reaction would be to the prospect of an illegitimate great-granddaughter showing up.
His uncomfortable line of thought was interrupted by the arrival of Amos, Sarah’s husband. Sarah filled him in with a quick rattle of Pennsylvania Dutch, at the end of which he nodded.
“Wilkom, Amanda. We’re glad to have you here.” He gave a quick glance at his wife. “Is there any apple pie left, by chance?”
“Only because I hid half a pie from you and the boys,” she said. “Komm along to the house, all of you. We’ll have a little snack, yah?”
The women went ahead, and Amos fell into step with Trey. He gave him a nudge with his elbow strong enough to make him stagger. “So you finally found a woman willing to look twice at you. Looks to me like you picked a fine one.”
“Business,” Trey said quickly. “She’s here on business.”
“Tell that to someone who hasn’t known you most of your life,” Amos said, his face splitting in a grin. “I saw the way you looked at her. You’re caught at last, ain’t so?”
“No such thing,” he said firmly. “I’m doing some legal work for her, that’s all.”
“If you say so,” Amos said, but Trey knew he wasn’t buying it.
Just the kind of talk he didn’t want to get around. And if he knew Sarah, she was thinking exactly the same thing as her husband. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
CHAPTER FOUR
AMANDA HAD INTENDED to spend the afternoon at the library, but since Sarah said she could move in right away, Amanda headed back to the motel to check out and pack. By late afternoon, she’d settled in the cottage and was busy familiarizing herself with the workings of the gaslights and heating.
Barney, after giving the cottage a thorough going-over, had apparently decided to lay claim to the hearth rug in front of the fireplace. He circled a couple of times, sighed and lay down, resting his head on his paws.
“I’m glad you approve,” she told him. “Since I’m not sure how long we’ll be here.”
She glanced at her watch, realizing that it was too late for even a cursory survey of the library’s files. That would have to wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, she could make an opportunity to talk to Sarah. From what Trey had said, they’d lived here for ages. Sarah might remember something of the accident to Melanie Winthrop, even if it were just what Amanda had already heard.
Pausing at the window, Amanda looked down the lane that led to the farmhouse. A stand of evergreens surrounded the cottage, cutting off her view of most of the farm buildings and giving the cottage an air of privacy.
Trey’s mention of her work in Lancaster County had probably sealed the deal, influencing Sarah to accept her. The Amish here were most likely one of the many daughter settlements from the Lancaster County Amish. She was annoyed that just the unexpected mention of that time had the power to make her stomach clench. Had he wondered why she’d been so terse about it?
Probably not. Trey barely knew her, even though they had been forced into a situation of some intimacy. He certainly didn’t know about the disaster that had sent her scurrying back to Boston and her mother.
Juliet had never been in favor of her going into practice with Rick. Better not to mix work and relationships, she’d said, carefully avoiding any hint of censure of Rick O’Neill’s character.
Juliet had been right, but she’d never so much as breathed an I told you so when Amanda came home, her relationship broken and her practice at an end. She’d dried Amanda’s tears, insisted Rick wasn’t good enough for her daughter and helped her find a new job.
It had been over a year. Rick should be a forgotten footnote in her life by now. Still, did anyone ever really get over the realization that their loved one was busily cheating all those times he’d been supposedly called out on a job?
Her cell phone rang before she could get too far along the road of beating herself up for being so wrong about him. The sight of Robert McKinley’s number yanked her attention back to her current problems, and she answered quickly.
“Robert? How are you? Is there any news?” At least she’d managed to ask how he was before barreling into her own concerns.
“I’m just a little worried about you,” he replied. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She felt instantly guilty. “I’m sorry, I should have called you. I saw the attorney you recommended, and he’s being helpful.”
“You mean there’s actually something in this...suspicion of yours?”
She suspected that he’d deleted the word harebrained from his question. “It seems like a good possibility that my mother was a young woman who lived here. Nothing is certain yet,” she added quickly. “Please don’t worry. I’m being cautious about it.”
“I have to admit that I didn’t think this trip would be useful, but this will be good news if it pans out. Just don’t forget that the crucial question is whether or not Juliet legally adopted you.”
Crucial from his perspective. Robert would always see things from the legal point of view. He wanted to take care of her as her mother would have, she supposed.
“I haven’t forgotten, but it’s worth exploring this lead if it turns out the woman was my mother. It will give you a place to look. Has your records search turned up anything?”
“Not yet, but it still may. When are you coming home?” There was an urgency in his voice that hadn’t been there before.
“I don’t know. Not until I’m satisfied one way or the other with what I’ve learned here. Why?”
Robert hesitated for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally he spoke.
“I hate to bring this up, but unfortunately your uncle—well, Juliet’s brother—has been nosing around. Maybe I’m wrong that he didn’t suspect anything about your parentage. This must mean that he has some idea Juliet’s will isn’t entirely straightforward.”
* * *
GOOD OLD GEORGE. Juliet had had no illusions about her brother’s character, and she’d apparently been right.
“I wish you’d come back here.” Robert sounded fretful. “I’d be happier if you were actually in residence at the house. Possession does count, you know.”
“I understand. But I’d rather be searching for the truth of my parentage than sitting there in Boston waiting for the roof to cave in. Isn’t knowing the truth more important?”
“I suppose,” he admitted. “I just hope you’re not opening up something that will hurt and disappoint you.”
Poor Robert. She couldn’t let him take care of her any more than Juliet had ever been willing to. “Thanks, Robert. It makes me feel better to know I have you in my corner. You’re a sweetheart.”
“Yes, well...” He became flustered, as he always did when touched by emotion. “Just take care of yourself. And give me your address, so I know where to find you.”
After she’d given him the information he wanted and been soothed to the best of her ability, Amanda stood for a moment at the window, phone in hand. She glimpsed movement and spotted Sarah approaching up the path, carrying a basket on her arm.
Amanda opened the door even before Sarah reached it. Here was her chance to speak to Sarah privately, and she hadn’t had to go looking for it. That seemed to bode well for her goal.
“Sarah, hi. Come in.”
“I don’t want to disturb you. Are you getting settled in all right?” Sarah’s cheeks were like two red apples when she smiled.
“I’m all set. Thanks again, so much. The cottage is perfect. As you can see, Barney is making himself right at home.”
Stepping inside, Sarah glanced at Barney, who was sitting up, looking, Amanda hoped, like a perfect gentleman. “It’s gut you have him. I’d hate to think of you alone here.”
Amanda shook her head. “I wouldn’t be lonely, but he is good company.” Sarah probably couldn’t understand that, living in a house with so many family members crammed in.
“Well, here is some streusel coffee cake, just in case you get hungry before you have a chance to get groceries in. And milk. Just to tide you over.”
“That’s so nice of you.” Amanda took the basket and set it on the kitchen table. The coffee cake looked so delicious she was tempted to have a piece immediately.
“Ach, it’s nothing.” Sarah waved a hand to dismiss her kind gesture. “I’m sure you have things to do. Trey said you have business in town.”
Something about that sentence made it into a question. It seemed Sarah was as curious about her as she was about what Sarah might know.
“I’m here looking into some questions that came up after my mother’s recent death. There seemed to be a...a connection to Echo Falls.” How could she find out anything and still be as careful as Trey and Robert seemed to want?
“Ach, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Sarah’s face clouded, and she reached out and touched Amanda’s hand lightly in sympathy. “It’s hard to lose your mother.”
Amanda nodded, her throat tightening. “Yes.”
“So you said something about Echo Falls? Was your mother from here?” Sarah leaned against the table as if prepared to stay and talk for a while.
“Not exactly.” She hesitated, trying to think how to ask the questions she wanted without getting into an explanation she didn’t want to give. “But I think she may have been friends with someone who grew up here.”
“Yah?” Sarah looked puzzled but interested.
“You might have known her. She died in an accident at the falls. Her name was Melanie Winthrop.”
For an instant Sarah’s face seemed to freeze. Then, before Amanda could say anything, she’d turned away and headed for the door.
“I... I’d forgotten something I must do. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” She left without waiting for a goodbye.
Amanda stood at the door and watched her go—fleeing, almost, as if from something she didn’t want to face. Slowly she closed the door.
Well. Amanda blew out a long breath. If that was the sort of reception she’d get whenever she mentioned the name Melanie Winthrop in this town, she wasn’t likely to find out anything.
* * *
LEAVING THE LIBRARY behind the next day, Amanda walked toward the café. She’d agreed to meet Trey there for lunch to share the fruits of their efforts. When she’d suggested that they didn’t need to have lunch together to do that, he’d countered with the fact that they’d have lunch in any event, so they may as well eat while they talked.
She hadn’t found an argument to that, at least not without coming out and admitting that she was trying to prevent a repeat of the feelings she’d experienced the previous day at the falls.
Trey, however, seemed friendly in a businesslike way, and his manner reassured her. Once Esther waved them to a table in the corner, he looked around as if something were missing.
“No guard dog today?”
Amanda shook her head. “I thought he’d better stay at the cottage. Somehow I didn’t think he’d be welcome at the library.”
“No, I don’t think so. Mrs. Gifford runs a tight ship. She used to make us kids empty our pockets before we went back to the stacks, just to be sure no sticky candy was going to get on her books.”
She had to smile. “I did think her rather intimidating. To say nothing of curious. She seemed to find a lot of reasons to walk behind me while I was scanning the microfiche.”
“That’s unfortunate, but it’s about what I expected. It won’t be possible to keep your mission a secret very long.”
Trey seemed to take that more seriously than she did. Maybe it was a sign of his mixed loyalties. Or possibly being overly cautious was part of the attorney’s job description.
“I never thought keeping it quiet was a viable option. If I’m going to find answers, people will have to know what the questions are.” A spurt of annoyance went through her. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” His eyebrows lifted, giving his face a momentary look of caricature. “The Winthrop family might well take offense at a stranger bringing up the painful past.” He held up a hand when she would have spoken. “Okay, let’s not go over the same ground again, especially when Esther is heading this way.”
Maybe he was right. She tried to focus on the menu, but ended up ordering the chicken potpie because Esther seemed to expect it. Meanwhile she wrestled with the unpalatable fact that if she made enemies of these people to start with, they were hardly likely to be cooperative.
Once Esther had gone, Trey glanced around the café, and he was apparently satisfied that the other customers were focused on their own meals and conversations. “How did you make out with the newspaper accounts?”
Amanda shrugged off her irritation. “Slim, very slim. Pictures of the falls, an account of the difficulty the volunteers had in bringing her out, a sketchy account of her being spotted by a hiker. And a carefully worded obituary a day later.” She toyed with her spoon. “It allowed me to visualize Melanie a little better, but it was short on helpful facts. I ran across a photo of her,” she said, setting it on the table. “She looked very young, very naive. She was barely eighteen when she died.” That was inexpressibly sad. Amanda glanced at Trey, to find him studying her face. “What? Do you see a resemblance?”
“Not in coloring, so much, but maybe in your features. What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” She’d wanted some confirmation one way or the other in the photo, but she didn’t see it. Certainly no one had ever said she looked like Juliet, and now she knew why. “For an instant I thought she looked familiar, but then it passed. Anyway, a black-and-white newspaper photo hardly gives an idea of how someone looks.”