Читать книгу Fatal Secrets - Barbara Phinney - Страница 11

Zane watched Kristin slip into the modest bungalow, only to exit a few seconds later with a faux suede tailored jacket in a dark blue color. She’d also chosen a long, thin scarf to ward off the cool breeze. She’d wrapped it once around her neck.

He let out a long breath as he shook his head. She obviously did not know how to protect herself. If someone wanted to harm her, a long scarf would be a perfect weapon.

She’d been pushed into traffic; he believed that, not only because of the smudges, but also because to trip right at that moment was simply too coincidental.

And he didn’t believe in coincidences. Nor did he believe in wearing things that an attacker could use against a person.

Patience, he told himself. She’s not as cynical as you are. She probably hadn’t seen her father try to strangle her mother.

“I’ve got to teach you how to dress,” he muttered as she climbed in his car again.

“I beg your pardon!”

He had to smile at her shocked but polite words. She had excellent diction, though her accent was definitely northwestern. “I mean that you need to choose clothes that can’t be used as weapons.”

She looked down at herself. “Like what?”

“Your scarf. If someone is after you, then you must not give them anything they can use against you.” He paused, then added, “And you need to not act so…” He fought for the right words, then knowing they’d never come, he said, “regally.”

She tightened her jaw. “I’m not a princess.” She eased off on the outraged expression, looking more hurt than anything else. “My adoptive mother, Anna, was an English teacher, born of British parents. My father was a lawyer here in town and, before that, in Billings. He was good at his job. Projecting an air of confidence was important to him.”

“Your mother was a teacher?”

Looking sad, she said, “Well, yes, until I was—came along. She retired to stay home with me. She loved being a mother.”

He softened. He knew he’d hurt her, but she needed to hear what he’d said for her own safety. And suddenly, her safety meant a lot to him. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I don’t want you hurt, that’s all.”

Kristin seemed to be considering his warning. “I’ll try to do better. And you’re right. When I first started at the university, I attended a seminar on campus safety. I think they did mention scarves and long ponytails being things that an attacker could grab. I’m sorry. I just didn’t figure I would ever be a target for someone.”

“Which means we need to figure out why, not to mention how you’ve become a target.” He threw her a sidelong glance.

“Of course.” She looked uncomfortable as she peeled off the scarf, pausing a moment as if she wanted to say more. “So, are we going to take your samples to the lab?”

“Yes. I want to catch them before they close for lunch.” He started his car, and within minutes, they had returned to the center of Westbrook. He knew the lab, having used it a few times since he moved here. And maybe with Kristin’s connections, they’d get some answers quickly.

Because he had a nagging feeling that they’d need those answers soon.

As they entered the lab, Maggie, Kristin’s chem partner approached with a broad smile and Kristin found herself answering with her own smile. Zane briefly told Maggie what he needed to have done. She nodded as he passed her the sample he’d taken from his car.

Maggie studied the smear Zane handed her. “I don’t think you’ll get any fingerprints, but we’ll see what this stuff is. I can test it for human DNA, too, but it’ll have to go out to the lab in Helena for a full analysis. That could take three weeks or more, depending on how much you’re willing to pay.” She brightened. “In the meantime, we should have the results on what this is in a couple of days.”

“That’s fine.” Once the paperwork was completed, Zane turned toward the door.

Immediately, Maggie flashed a brilliant smile and a thumbs-up for approval. Kristin felt herself blanch. Was Maggie thinking that Zane was a boyfriend and she was merely following him around today for lack of anything better to do?

Zane turned back and peered at Maggie, who dropped the smile like the cheeky girl she was. With a frown, he said goodbye and held the door for Kristin.

Outside, Kristin trotted down the short flight of stone steps toward the parking lot, glad to be away from the embarrassing situation in the lab. Zane, a boyfriend? Sure, he was handsome, with some kind of indefinable strength, but still…

But still what? Suddenly, she felt as if she had no argument against Zane. Quite the opposite, really.

Kristin felt herself redden further. The brick buildings around them had cut the wind considerably, and she was glad she didn’t have to smooth her hair constantly in order to hide her scar. She didn’t need to add that to her embarrassment.

At the bottom step, her scalp near her scar tingling, Kristin stopped, remembering words from the note her birth mother had written Jackson.

Kristin almost died because of the path I’ve needed to take.

Years ago, her adoptive parents had told her that the scar was something she’d been born with. And to forget about it.

Like a dutiful daughter, she’d dropped the questions. She had her answer, now, from Jackson, and it was as shocking as finding out she’d been adopted out of state, not born here as her other birth certificate claimed.

She really had come close to dying and today the truth was sinking in even more deeply.

But it being a frightful souvenir and not a birth defect she’d always tried to hide still didn’t make her want it exposed, and certainly not to Zane. He was altogether too perceptive and with all that had happened, she felt exposed enough.

Zane took her arm and hurried her to his car. “That’s all we can do for now.”

She set aside her turbulent thoughts. “Does this mean you’ll take my case?” Honestly, she was beginning to hate that mantra, but couldn’t help ask again.

He paused. “I’ve been considering taking the summer off, but—” A short ring rippled through the air. Zane pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. “Just a second. It’s a text from a friend.”

Stepping away from her, he stared at the small screen. His mouth fell open and his shoulders drooped. As she watched, the air around them felt as if it dropped in temperature.

Bad news.

Punching out numbers, Zane stepped farther from Kristen. She folded her arms against the sudden chill, staring at his back as he listened intently to the person on the other end. When he finally hung up, he turned. His jaw looked tight enough to snap.

Oh, yes, something was definitely wrong. She hurried over to him. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Let’s go. I’d like to talk to the waiter at the café again.”

She struggled to keep up with his long stride. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Is it about me?”

“No, it’s not about you at all.” He unlocked his car and held the door open for her. “Just get in.”

Biting her lip, she obeyed. When Zane sat down behind the wheel, she touched his arm. “If it’s not about me, then, is there anything I can do?”

“No. Just a lead in another case I’d been following. It’s a dead end, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry. Is it about your brother? Maybe I can help you. I’ve lived here all my life. Well, almost all my life, so I know a lot of people. My father had a thriving law practice here, and Mom knew everyone.”

His eyes widened. Though the bad news had marred the blue of his eyes like soft cirrus clouds wash out a clear sky, she could see shock easily in them. “You’re not going to dig into your father’s private files, are you?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no! His files went to his law partner. I’d never do that! I was just thinking if you were looking for someone, maybe I could help. Do you think he was a local?”

“I’d been hoping he was local. But I was wrong.”

“Who? I might know the name.”

Zane’s mouth thinned. “I only know his last name is Kendall.” He spelled it.

She sat back in the seat and shook her head. “Kendall. Hmm. I’m not sure. How old is he?”

“Two years younger than me.”

She stopped in mid-thought. His brother. Zane had moved here to find him, and now that one lead has dissolved. What was next for him? Would he move on?

She watched Zane’s clean profile, his straight nose and strong chin. His dark hair fell into his eyes slightly, and his brooding good looks and casual clothes seemed to fit well on the campus around them. The hurt in his expression, however, did not.

Suddenly, she didn’t want him to move out of the area to continue his search somewhere else. But she had to ask, “What’s next in your search?”

He slid his gaze sideways across the car’s front seats to her. “I don’t know. That guy on the phone was following my strongest lead, but it didn’t pan out.”

Her heart swelled in sympathy. They were both searching. In a way, she’d found a kindred spirit. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’ve built a good business here, and searching for my brother is something I do when I have the time. I have even less information on him than you have on your mother so I always knew I may never find him.”

“So you’re back to square one now?”

“I have one much weaker lead out there, but am not expecting anything to come of it.”

He watched her, as if, she wondered, he was also looking for understanding. Her heart lurched. He was hurting, too. He was struggling to find a connection with his past. And like her, he may never find his family.

“Let’s get some lunch. My treat,” she suggested to break the melancholy settling over them. “There’s a new restaurant downtown that has great Mexican food. If you like, you can tell me what you know about your brother. I’m no expert, but maybe you just need a fresh eye?”

He frowned at her and she tried a small, hopeful smile. She didn’t feel like smiling, and yet, sticking with Zane brought a strange measure of comfort that made smiling that much easier. Besides, after that push into traffic, she didn’t feel like being alone.

“Why don’t we talk about you instead, Kristin?” he answered. “My search for my brother can wait, but yours can’t. No one wants to kill me for it, but you are definitely in danger because of your search.”

“Do you really think it’s related to my mother?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences, and they’re piling up here. Your mother is in hiding, and right after you attend a related trial, you’re in danger, as well?”

“I don’t know anything, so there’s no reason to kill me.”

“I’m not saying you do know anything, but someone could be mistaking you for your mother. Do you look like her?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know. I’ve only ever seen one photo of her and I don’t have it. It’s hard to see a resemblance to yourself, I think.”

Of course, she knew of another photo on its way to her. Zane may be able to confirm a resemblance.

Zane glanced around the parking lot, before zeroing in on her. “You want me to take on your case, but it’s obvious that you’re holding some things back. And the look on your face after you received that phone call this morning told me you didn’t know what to do. Were you warned about me?”

“No! Well, not exactly.” Boy, he was good. He was able to read her like a book. Should she tell him anything? Jackson had warned her of a leak. Anyone, including Zane, could use what they’d learn from her to find her mother, or inform the Mob, she wagered. How could she know for sure that he wouldn’t tell the Martino family?

But what could Zane learn from her? She didn’t have anything but a name, an old address from a foster home her mother had lived in, where that other photo had been taken, and very little else. She doubted her mother would use her real name and she certainly wouldn’t contact her old foster home again. Kristin only wanted the photo because it was of her mother and had been offered to her.

Zane tilted his head. “I can help you find your mother. So why won’t you tell me anything?”

If she found her mother, she reasoned to herself, she could warn her about the Martinos, about what Jackson had said. They could hide together, taking that time to get to know each other again. It would be so wonderful, and everything she’d dreamed of since her friend Jake had opened her father’s safe and she’d found the adoption papers.

She swallowed. “I’ve been told to be very careful.”

“Because of the Martino family? Why did you go to the trial then?”

“I had to see the man whose father had caused my mother to hide. But no one recognized me. I lightened my hair, and wore tinted glasses. And due to the security, those allowed into the courtroom were escorted in and out through a side door, and protected from the public.”

“But afterward, you came straight back here?”

“No.” She shook her head, understanding what he meant. “Jackson McGraw advised against that. After the trial, I wanted to thank one of the witnesses for the prosecution. He took me to the FBI building in the city. I talked to her there.”

“Who was she?”

“Olivia Jarrod. She was the star witness in that trial.”

“What did she say?”

“To me? Not much. I just thanked her for doing her best to get rid of the Martino family. Then I told her that I’d been separated from my mother for about twenty-one years and she said she hoped I would find my mother someday. The conversation didn’t last long. She didn’t want to stick around, and I didn’t, either.”

“So then you came straight home?”

She shook her head. “Jackson and I decided that I should take a flight to Maine to spend some time with a college friend. So I did. We climbed Mount Katahdin. Then we toured the East Coast for a week. After that, I returned here.”

Her tone changed as she drilled a stare into him. They were sitting in his car. Around them, the campus had gone quiet. “Please, Zane, I can’t tell you much, because I don’t know much.”

Zane’s look darkened, as if he disagreed with her. But thankfully, he said nothing. She continued, faster than before. “But I need to find my mother. Let’s have some lunch. We’ll talk there.”

She hadn’t really expected Zane to agree, but he did, asking for the name of the restaurant. A swell of accomplishment filled her. He was willing to talk to her, perhaps to engender trust, or perhaps because he needed to talk, maybe about his own fruitless search. She didn’t care about the reason. Suddenly, being with him warmed her, gave her a sense of connection.

At the restaurant, they found a booth in the back and ordered the daily special of quesadillas. After scribbling out their order, the waitress plunked down a large bowl of nacho chips and salsa. Kristin dug in. Catching Zane’s eye, she shrugged. “I’m hungry. And when I’m stressed, I eat. I’m not one to starve myself, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t apologize. I think it’s normal.” He grimaced. “You may be a bit naïve, but at least you’re not the thin, high-strung sort.”

She lifted her eyebrows, wondering who was like that in his life that brought such a derisive comment. “There’s a compliment in there, I’m sure. I just can’t see it right now.”

She picked up another chip and munched on it. At least he was talking. The stress of the call he’d made seemed to be wearing him down, loosening the cool grit that held him tightly together.

“It is a compliment. And you’re honest about it.” He tightened his jaw. “Believe me, I appreciate honesty.”

Why shouldn’t he? She stemmed her curiosity by changing the subject. “My church loves to eat. We’ll use any excuse for a potluck lunch. No thin, high-strung ladies there.” She pointed a corn chip at him. “You should come. There’ll be snacks after the service this week.”

Her offer slipped out automatically. She’d asked many of her college friends to church. Some had come, most had declined. Sleeping in on Sundays was too important to them.

He looked away, his jaw tight. “Once upon a time, I believed in God and all that. But the price was too high. You have to be perfect, and that’s not me. In fact, if I have to be as good as my father thought he was, I’d rather not be a Christian at all.”

She stopped chewing. The bitterness in his words bounced around their booth. She’d never heard such cold condemnation. What would her parents say to this?

Suddenly, the ache of grief weighed down her heart. Her parents would have known the right answer. They were wonderfully compassionate. They’d taken her in twenty-one years ago, finding themselves with a small child after many years alone. It must have been hard for them to keep up with a busy little toddler.

But enough of that. What could she say to Zane? He seemed so disappointed with God. How could she take that away?

She couldn’t. Nor was it any of her business, no matter how sad it made her feel. With a sip of water, she swallowed the corn chip and hastened to change the subject. “You said you have a brother. Where are your parents?”

“Dead. Both my birth parents and my adoptive ones. I was adopted shortly after I was born,” he told her tersely.

“So what clues led you here?”

“While I was living in upstate New York, I did a data search for the last name Kendall.” He spelled the name. “My adoptive mother only ever told me the last name and only after a good deal of pressure. She was afraid of my adoptive father.”

His jaw had tightened again, she noticed.

As if catching her curiosity, he cleared his throat and took a chip. “Anyway, I got a break once with some online photos from Westbrook University. So I decided to move here and set up my business.”

He dipped a chip into the salsa. “The lead today turned out to be no good.”

Their meals arrived and when the server left them, Kristin stared at her food.

She snapped her attention back him, remembering why the name sounded familiar. “What did this Kendall guy study?”

“Art, specializing in oils, I’m told. I don’t even know if he is my brother. He’s already left the area.”

Kristin set down her glass of water. “There’s a painting in one of the lecture rooms that’s signed ‘Bobby Kendall’ with that same spelling. It could be his. It’s of Lindbergh Lake, about eighty miles from here. It’s this multiseasonal three-sectioned painting, so the artist would have needed to go there frequently to plan his work. Maybe he’s there now.”

“I’ve checked everywhere.”

“But there’s the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area nearby. People spend months in The Bob all alone.”

“I’ll consider it after we’ve settled your case. Do you think your lecturer would talk about the artist?”

“I’m sure he would. He bored me silly for a whole semester about other artists and they’re dead.”

Abruptly, Zane laughed. “Ouch! That’s awfully critical, isn’t it?”

“You’re right.” She smiled back.

She liked being around Zane.

His gaze drifted over her shoulder toward the front entrance. Suddenly, he stiffened. “Kristin, listen to me carefully,” he whispered. “Take your purse and walk toward the washroom, but don’t go in. Do it now!”

She opened her mouth, but his icy glare froze any questions. Lifting her purse, she slid out of the booth.

“Hurry, but don’t run,” he said quietly, taking a fake sip of water. “And don’t look around.”

A minute later, she found herself down the dim hall near the washrooms, her heart pounding. From the front of the restaurant, the sound of a loud crash bounced down to her.

She jumped. What was going on?

Suddenly, a dark blur raced toward her and propelled her into the restaurant’s busy kitchen. Inside the steamy room, a young cook’s eyes widened in shock.

Then someone slapped a hand over her mouth.