Cradle Of Secrets (12 page)

And why he'd known that Dylan was something more than just a man helping her search for the truth. But even Tammie didn't have the answer to what that something was.

“G
uess what, Dyl?” Sonny said to him over the phone as he put together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“What?”

“Aztec Corporation makes statues.”

He dropped the knife on the paper plate and waited. When she didn't elaborate, he heaved a heavy sigh that got her attention.

“I already knew that, Sonny. I saw about a half dozen of them smashed on the ground.”
And one in the Davco mansion.

“Oh.”

“That's it? That's all you could find?”

Sonny was good at research. If there was a way to uncover information about Aztec Corporation, she'd do it.

“That's all there was on the surface,” Sonny said, a little hint of satisfaction in her voice.

He rolled his eyes. “What's under the surface, Son? Don't keep me in suspense.”

She chuckled. She was having fun with this. Most of the time, her job as a computer-software specialist was rather dry, she'd told him. She worked at a high-tech company, figuring out ways to hack into systems and keep others from doing the same. She was good at what she did.

“I'm not asking for you to do anything illegal.”

“I know you're not. And you know I wouldn't. Even if I could.” And she probably could, Dylan thought. “There just isn't a whole lot out there. Nothing beyond suspicions, and the fact that Aztec Corporation is far from home.”

He'd just picked up his sandwich to take a bite, but he dropped it back on the plate, curious about where she was going. “Go on.”

“The Aztec Indians were not South American. They were Mexican. Yet the headquarters for Aztec Corporation is in Colombia.”

“Haven't you ever seen Native American dolls that were made in China?”

She paused, then said, “You've got a point.”

“Yeah, give me something else.”

“I'm just wondering, why not sell statues of their own culture? Colombian art is beautiful. So I looked it up.”

“And?”

“Aztec Corporation sells fakes. Bad fakes. As in completely wrong.”

“That's a great art-history lesson, sis, but I need something to go on here. When I saw the name on the truck, it was as if I'd seen it before.”

“You think Cash was investigating it?”

“Don't know. He never said anything.”

“Same here.”

“Is that all you have?”

“Pretty much. There was some press about some paintings that were stolen like a million years ago.”

“How long?”

“Um, hold on.” She paused, as if she were checking the computer. He heard the clicking of keys. “Looks like they were stolen almost thirty years ago, but one of them just popped up on the black market a while back. Do you think that's something?”

“I don't have a clue. But if it has to do with Aztec Corporation, check it out.”

“I can comb Cash's apartment tonight to see if I can find that info he had on Aztec Corporation if you want. Maybe he has something there that I can use to look into this a little deeper.”

Dylan thought about it. He could easily have missed something when he searched the apartment before he left. “Take Dad with you.”

She sighed heavily. “I'm not twelve, Dylan. I can go to my own brother's apartment and water the plants—which, by the way, are dying.”

He laughed. “You forgot to water them.”

“I watered them too much, I think. You know I don't exactly have a green thumb.”

“Have Mom nurse the plants back to health. If that doesn't work, we'll get Cash a spider plant. He'll never know the difference.”

“Yeah, he will. He notices everything. And he'll blame me.”

Dylan liked talking about their brother as if he was still part of the here and now. It was too upsetting to think of the alternative.

His appetite suddenly gone, he pushed the plate with the sandwich away. “E-mail me when you have something, okay?”

Sonny promised to do that, then hung up. Dylan put the cell phone on the table and scrubbed his hand over his face as he looked out into the darkness. Most of the campers had doused their campfires and turned in.

He should be doing something. He didn't want to lie in bed, waiting for the hours to pass until he could go back to the Davco mansion and talk to Serena.

Yeah, right, that's the reason
, he said to himself as he got up from the table and pushed the camper door open. The warm night air bathed his face. The days were getting hotter. Summer was here.

He hoped he hadn't sent Sonny on a wild-goose chase. Aztec Corporation might just be another company trying to make a buck by copying and selling pottery originally made by ancient civilizations.

Looking up at the moon, he closed his eyes and said a prayer to the Lord.

“I know I've been asking a lot lately, Lord. And You've given me the direction I need. I just want to say thanks for leading me here.”

And for leading me to Tammie.
He didn't say that part out loud, but Dylan knew He understood.

 

“Let me take the tray to her,” Tammie said, holding out her hands.

Susan stood at the foot of the stairs, a dinner tray filled with food in her hands. Serena's dinner was being served at nine-thirty, because she'd slept so late.

“It's my job. I'd appreciate your letting me do it.”

Tammie put her hands down. “Fine. Then I'll go with you. I'd like to see how Serena is doing.”

“That won't be necessary. Aurore is already up there.”

Despite the attempted brush-off, Tammie followed Susan up the stairs and into Serena's room. She didn't know what to expect after last night's nightmare. Serena had been distraught the night before, but Tammie was caught off guard when she found that she was worse.

Serena lay lifeless in her bed. Aurore stood next to her, lifting her so that she was sitting almost upright, propping her up with pillows. Her eyes were glazed over, and she appeared almost catatonic, with her head slightly turned to the side.

Aurore turned as Tammie came beside the bed. “You might want to get some dinner yourself, since you didn't eat when you got home,” Aurore said to Tammie. “Susan is a good cook. She'll fix you something.”

“Thank you, but I had dinner earlier, in town.”

Aurore sighed. “As you can see, Serena is not up to talking. You'll be wasting your time if you try.”

“Isn't that for me to decide?”

“Why don't you find something else to do?”

“You're trying to get rid of me again,” Tammie said pointedly.

Aurore gave her a half smile. “Would it work if I were?”

“No.”

“Then it'll only be a waste of my time if I try.”

Susan put the dinner tray on the space at the foot of the bed, and Aurore cleared a spot there and sat down. “That will be all, Susan. Thank you.”

When she was gone, Tammie pulled a chair closer to the bed, opposite where Aurore was sitting.

“Did you raise her?” she asked.

Aurore gave her attention to feeding Serena. “Serena?

No, her father did.”

“A mother's love is important, too. She had no step mother?”

“Eleanor was her mother. I made sure she knew what kind of woman her mother was. Her father never remarried.”

An ache settled in the pit of Tammie's stomach. She knew nothing about any of them. Would she have the opportunity to know what kind of person Eleanor Davco had been, and how she had come to live in someone else's home? She hoped so.

“You'll have to tell me about that sometime. If you don't mind.”

Aurore's face remained expressionless, but she paused for just a fraction of a second before she continued to spoon-feed Serena.

Food dribbled out of Serena's mouth, and Aurore quickly scooped it away from her face and wiped her with a soft white cloth, as if she were a baby again. The scene was almost too much for Tammie to bear.

“What's wrong with her?”

“She hasn't gotten over the loss of her father.”

“He's in a nursing home. He's not dead.”

“He is to Serena. He doesn't remember her at all. It was a devastating blow to be left alone like that.”

But she's
not
alone, Tammie wanted to say. More and more, she was becoming convinced that she was Serena's sister. How could they be so alike and not be sisters? It just didn't make sense.

“She wasn't always like this?”

Aurore tried to spoon some food into Serena's mouth, coaxing her. “Off and on. She's suffered from mental illness throughout her life. First the trauma of losing her mother in the fire, and then losing her father.”

From where Tammie was sitting, she had a clear view of Aurore's scar. “Did you get that way in the fire here at the mansion?”

Aurore turned to her, startled. Then her face changed. Tammie had expected anger, but she saw none. What she saw instead was more a look of surprise.

“You sure are a curious one,” Aurore finally said.

Tammie closed her eyes, guilt eating at her. “I'm sorry if I offended you.”

She was surprised when Aurore chuckled.

“No, you're not. You're curious. I can see the questions behind your eyes, and I know that you're having a hard time keeping yourself quiet. You want to know everything.”

Tammie asked, “Is that so wrong, given the circumstances?”

Aurore seemed to weigh her words. “You want to know about this ugly scar? I've been with the Davco family since before Serena was born. I was here the night Eleanor Davco died. I tried to help her, but failed. And I'll tell you one more thing—you shouldn't be asking so many questions.”

“Why not?”

Aurore dropped the spoon in the half-empty dish. “People get hurt when they ask too many questions.”

“I'm not trying to cause—”

“Trouble? Well, you are. More than you know. If you don't want trouble to find you, then you need to leave it alone. If you can't do that, I suggest you pack your bags and go back home to Oregon.”

Tammie lifted her chin, glanced at Serena, heard a soft moan escape her lips, as if she were trying to communicate with them.

Tears stung Tammie's eyes, but she wouldn't let them show. She wouldn't let Aurore know how much her words had hurt. If her parents hadn't left Eastmeadow, she would have grown up in this town, just like Serena. As hard as it still was for her to imagine, she probably would have grown up right here in this house.

Dylan had told her to keep her faith. But it was becoming harder and harder to cling to the belief that her parents hadn't known she was not their biological child.

They must have known. If they really had lived in Eastmeadow, they would have seen Tammie's resemblance to Eleanor Davco. Maybe not at first, when she was a baby, but certainly when she grew up.

“No one is going to force me away from here,” Tammie said quietly, “no matter what questions I ask.”

Rising from her chair, she gave a gentle squeeze to Serena's hand, but got no response.
Oh, Serena, please wake up and talk to me
. How could she possibly get answers to all the questions burning in her mind without the aid of her sister?

It was selfish of her to think only of herself, when Serena so clearly was the person in need. But until she could talk to Serena and find out what she knew about Tammie, how she'd known Tammie was coming, and what all this had to do with her parents, she just couldn't move on.

She left the room and shut the door. This house didn't feel like a home. It was a fortress. She was free to leave, but how could she leave with Serena here, without knowing how her life had come to be what it had?

Her mind wandered to Dylan. He'd said he had some things to take care of tonight, but she wished he was still here with her. Aside from Serena, he seemed to be the only ally she had in a town that held too many secrets.

He'd taken her arm earlier, held it in a way that made her feel protected. It was almost as if she could still feel his touch. Her adrenaline raced at the thought of what could have happened at the auction grounds today, had she not been able to get out of the way of the falling armoire. She'd never been so scared in her life. And she'd never been so glad to see anyone as she had been when Dylan suddenly appeared by her side.

She touched her knee and winced at its tenderness. It would feel a little achy for a few days. She'd had a chance to clean out the scrape and seen the nasty bruise that had already turned purple and swollen.

Dylan was convinced the armoire had been a warning. She couldn't say she was completely convinced herself, but she would make sure the door to her bedroom was locked.