A Secret Identity (32 page)

He didn’t look convinced, but I was. Amos didn’t like competition, and Todd was competition whether he meant to be or not.

“Amos and I faced off in court today,” he said. “The judge ruled in my client’s favor. Amos isn’t used to losing. I think it’d be better if you stayed away from him tonight.”

I thought for a moment. He had a point, but I needed to get this thing resolved, to return the farm to its normal peace and myself to my customary unexciting life. “I don’t think there’s any good time as far as he and I are concerned, so I might as well get it over with as soon as possible.” I dropped the last of the confetti in the packet.

“Cara.” There was an edge to Todd’s voice. “Don’t go tonight.”

I was touched by his concern. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” I looked up from the packet and saw his face. “Come on. It’s not that bad.”

“I don’t want you to go to Amos’s house.”

Whether he meant it to or not, his words sounded like an order to me, and in true Bentley fashion, my hackles rose. Still, I forced myself to speak evenly. “Todd, it’s my choice to make.”

“Not this time,” he said slowly and distinctly. “I’m telling you: Don’t go.”

I felt my jaw tense and my eyes turn flinty. “You can’t stand it if someone differs with you, can you?” If my icy tone were any measure of temperature, the coming rain would be snow, June or not.

“And you can’t stand to take advice from anyone, can you?” His anger was hot enough to melt the polar ice cap.

I reached for the door handle. “It’s 6:50. You’re going to be late for your clients.”

“Cara!” He grabbed my arm. “Don’t. Go. To. Yosts’.”

I pulled my arm free. “What gives you the right to tell me what I can or can’t do?”

“If you don’t know,” he said, his voice low and hard, “then I can’t explain it to you.”

I slid out and slammed the door. He threw the car in reverse. I stalked to my car, and he stormed out of the drive. I jammed my key into the ignition, and he roared down the road. I stared out my windshield and wondered what had just happened.

The Paddock looked as lovely under this evening’s threatening skies as it had the beautiful evening Todd and I were there. The tables were gone, the dance floor disassembled, the fairy lights extinguished, but the beauty of the graceful estate was undiminished.

Only I was different. I was alone and remorseful instead of with Todd and full of dreams. I sighed for the millionth time. Gone was my anger; regret filled me instead.

Dear Father, can two highly opinionated people with sinfully strong wills make it? Please tell me they can. I’ll even work at becoming a woman of a quiet and gentle spirit. I will! I promise
.

I parked outside the garage and walked slowly to the front door. The air was now still and heavy, the quiet before the storm. I shivered in spite of the heat.

Todd was right. I shouldn’t have come here alone. Another person would be a witness to what was said, if nothing else. That he might also be comfort, strength, encouragement, support—the list went on—only made me feel more alone.

As I stood hesitantly on the front porch, lightning flashed, and immediately a great crack of thunder ripped the night. I jumped.

I didn’t need to talk to Amos tonight, I decided suddenly. I’d face him another time. Solving the crimes didn’t have the immediacy I’d thought. No one was in danger beyond the petty war of nerves being conducted, and certainly I was woman enough to stand up to that. I turned to leave.

Before I took a step, the skies opened, releasing a wall of water so dense the air was a river. I wondered there was room left for the necessary oxygen to breathe.

My choices were reduced to facing Amos or drowning. Wondering if this was my don’t-go-into-the-basement-in-the-dead-of-night-stupid-woman moment, I took my first step and rang the doorbell.

Pip answered. “Hey, look who’s here! Come on in.”

Well, at least one person was glad to see me.

Pip ushered me into the front hall. He grinned at me and then leaned his head back and bellowed, “Mom, Dad, company!”

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I won’t tell them who’s here. They might not come if they knew.” His eyes twinkled and he rocked back and forth on his toes, delighted with himself.

I couldn’t help grinning back at him. There was something irresistible and delightful about him. I marveled he’d kept his sense of fun living with Mick and his father.

Pip wasn’t as bulky as his father or Mick, and his lean good looks were the kind that appealed to me. He had a wonderful smile, and his brown eyes were guileless and full of wonder, even with the dark circles beneath them.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall and Mick appeared. He took one look at me, and his handsome face soured. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Pleased to see you too, Mick,” I said.

“Guess what?” Pip was undeterred by his brother’s ill humor. “Morgan bought one of your books.”

“Great! Which one, do you know?”

“There’s more than one?” He seemed surprised.

“Several more.” I smiled at him. “I’m a writer, remember? To make a living at the profession, you have to keep on producing.”

More footsteps sounded in the hall, light and quick, and Jessica and Morgan appeared. Jessica froze when she saw me, but Morgan rushed forward.

“I bought one of your books,” she said. “
As the Deer
. If I’m going to be a writer, I thought I should read what a successful author is writing.”

As the Deer
. I shivered.

“The weird thing is,” she continued, “I can’t find it anywhere. When I do, will you autograph it? To my favorite cousin or something?”

“Sure. I’d be glad to.” But I was afraid the book was right here in the FedEx pouch in my hand. I studied her, trying to determine if she was being clever or just being honest. I couldn’t tell.

“Mom!” Pip bounced around the hall with an energy that made me feel weary. “We haven’t been very polite to Cara. We need to invite her into the living room.”

Jessica looked trapped by Pip’s suggestion. “Of course,” she said without enthusiasm. “Please, Cara. Have a seat.” She led the way and gestured to a wing chair.

I looked around the living room. At least I wasn’t trapped in another paean of praise to Penn State. The greens, blues, and creams were lovely, though the room had the look of a showplace rather than a lived-in space. Jessica and the children sat stiffly, clearly unused to the room.

“So what have you been doing since you were here Saturday?” Pip asked, all excitement. “Anything interesting, especially on the are-we-related scene?”

“When your dad gets here, I’ll tell all of you at the same time.” I smiled at him so the answer didn’t seem too brusque.

He nodded and jumped to his feet. “I’ll go get Dad.” And he dashed from the room.

I turned to Jessica. “He must wear you out with all his energy.”

She offered a courtesy smile, but said nothing. I became aware that Mick was watching her closely. When he felt my eyes on him, he looked at me in anger.

An awkward silence fell over the room, and it was a relief to finally hear two people approaching, even if one of them was Amos.

When he walked into the room and saw me, he froze. It was obvious that Pip hadn’t told him I was his guest. Pip giggled at his father’s expression.

Jessica, Mick, and Morgan all watched Amos nervously. Pip watched me.

Amos finally found his voice. “When I told you to stay away from my mother, I never imagined I’d have to tell you to stay away from us as well.”

I tried not to cringe under the lash of his words.

“Dad.” Pip laid his hand on Amos’s arm. “She’s a guest here. We need to be polite.” He turned to Jessica. “Right, Mom?”

Jessica opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“Be quiet, Pip,” Amos ordered. “She is not a guest, and I will not be polite.”

Praying like crazy, I stood up so I could face Amos on more equal footing. “I won’t stay long. I just have three things to give you.”

Amos didn’t ask what they were, but he didn’t walk out of the room either.

“The first is a copy of a legal document I found in the Archives at the courthouse today.” I held out a copy of Pop’s adoption decree.

Amos made no move to take it, but Pip grabbed it eagerly. He looked it over quickly and said, “She’s a Biemsderfer, Dad. It says here that Great-Grandmother Madeleine had a baby boy who was adopted. See?” He held the paper to his father. “Here’s Madeleine’s name. And here’s Cara’s grandfather’s name.”

Amos shut his eyes for a moment, distress and distrust warring in his expression. He took a deep breath as if to steel himself and reached for the paper. He read it quickly and swore.

“I just wanted you to know that there is proof that my pop was Madeleine and Enos’s son,” I said.

“How did you know to look in the Archives?” Pip asked, his eyes bright with curiosity. “Dad said adoption records were sealed.”

“My lawyer suggested it.” I didn’t mention Todd’s name on purpose. If Amos was upset about the outcome of today’s hearing, there was no sense mentioning the man who had bested him, making things worse than they already were.

“Is that Todd Reasoner?” Pip asked innocently. “The guy you were with the other night?”

I nodded while Amos glowered.

“Boy, that was a great idea.” Pip nodded as if impressed.

“There will be no money for you.” The chill in Amos’s voice was enough to make me shiver.

“I don’t want any money!” I was appalled.

Amos snorted. “I have power of attorney. I will never let Mother change her will.”

“Nor should you,” I agreed. “I don’t—” I stopped, realizing I could protest all night and he’d never believe me. I scanned the room and saw the others didn’t accept my protestations either.

I sighed and reached into my purse. I pulled out the threatening letter and handed it to Amos. “This came in the mail this morning.”

He scanned it and went white.

“What’s it say, Dad?” Pip wanted to know. The others looked like they were afraid to know.

Amos cleared his throat and read, “You were told not to visit her. You were warned. Now you will suffer. Like the chickens.”

“Like the chickens?” Mick asked in a tight voice. “What does that mean?”

“Someone slit the throats of two hens on the farm where I live. They were lying on the front porch this morning.”

Pip stared at me, eyes wide. “Someone killed them?”

I nodded. “There’s more.”

Mick flinched and I thought he was beginning to look scared. But then so was Jessica.

“The mailbox at the farm was blown up last Thursday, and all four tires on my car were slashed Saturday night. I can’t prove those incidents are tied to the dead hens, but common sense says the vandalism is connected. And there’s this.” I upended the FedEx envelope onto the green, blue, and cream Turkish carpet.

The five Yosts watched transfixed as the single pages floated, the crumpled pages tumbled, and the confetti showered until it all rested at my feet.

Morgan was out of her chair and on her knees in the debris in an instant. “Is that my missing book? Is it?” She sounded slightly panicked as she raised fearful eyes to her mother.

Jessica sat white and drawn, hand at her throat. It occurred to me that I’d never considered her as the perpetrator. I thought of all the mystery novels I’d read where it was always the least expected character who was the bad guy.

Just as quickly I thought of M-80’s, ruined tires, and slit throats. I looked at the well-manicured hand resting against her neck and knew it wasn’t Jessica, who began to cry, silent tears running unchecked down her face.

I studied Mick, my prime suspect, the son who was a problem. He staggered to his feet, took a half step, and then collapsed into his chair again. He put his face in his hands and groaned. Because he was about to be found out?

Amos was scarlet with rage, the threatening note crumpled in his fist.

The only one unmoved was Pip. He grinned and bounced some more.

Amos turned his fury full on me. “How dare you disrupt my family like this? How dare you distress my wife? How dare you!”

I stared at him in disbelief. I didn’t expect him to like anything I said, but I didn’t expect denial and transference either.

“Amos.” Jessica rose timidly from her chair. She sniffed and dashed a hand at her tears. “You know it’s not her fau—”

Amos cut her off. “Get out!” He pointed to me and to the door. Then he turned to his wife. “And you, Jessica, sit down and be quiet.” She sat.

With trembling legs I walked across the room. I turned in the doorway. “No more.” I gestured to the carnage on the floor. “Or I will tell the police.”

“Out!” Amos roared.

I looked at the room full of people who were my blood relatives but far from me in heart. Mick stared at the floor, agony in every line of his face. Morgan, still kneeling among the mutilated pages, watched her parents in uncertainty and fear. Jessica sat in her chair, hopeless and defeated. Amos was rigid with anger and insult. Pip looked from one to the other, excited and strangely happy at the chaos, ready to pop out of his skin.

And suddenly something clicked.