Cradle Of Secrets (16 page)

As she slowly moved her fingers, changing from frame to frame, her mind was at war. She needed to concentrate on the fire at the mansion and any mention of Eleanor or Byron Davco.

“How's it going?”

Tammie hadn't even heard Dylan come up behind her, but the sound of the chair being dragged across the floor made her jump. He sat down next to her and glanced over her shoulder. She could feel the heat from his body as he sat down next to her, smell the clean scent of soap and something more enticing. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then focused on the screen again.

“I'm just coming up on the month I was born.”

“Good. We should start to see something, then. When's your birthday?”

“June fourteenth.”

“Assuming that's your real birthday, let's check there.”

It had never occurred to Tammie that the day she knew as her birthday could be wrong. Suddenly, that one small detail seemed vitally important. She didn't want that taken away from her when so much else had been already.

The day she knew as her birthday came around. “Nothing,” Tammie said. “Just mentions of the auctions and a livestock fair in another town.”

Dylan moved his hand over the microfiche knob, covering her hand with his. Without thinking, she turned her hand over until her fingers locked with his. Dylan looked away from the screen and at her face. So many things were running through her mind, her head began to swim. She blinked to steady herself and pulled her hand away.

When she found her voice, she said, “Move ahead one day.”

It took a moment for him to turn his attention to the screen and move the frame forward. When he did, Tammie drew in a slow breath.

Then the newsprint practically exploded with detail.

“Bull's-eye,” she said as mixed feelings collided. On the one hand, she wanted to find out the truth. But how much did she really want to see?

The front page headlines screamed that Eleanor Davco, daughter of one of the town's oldest families, had been killed in a tragic fire. Tammie's hand went to her chest, and she forced herself to breathe. There was a picture of Eleanor Davco. She couldn't have been much older than Tammie was now.

Dylan read ahead. “The house wasn't completely destroyed, but the damage was extensive. If your mother had just given birth to you, that may have been the reason she wasn't able to escape the fire.”

“My birth mother,” Tammie said quietly. With each word she read, she felt as if the woman who had raised her, the parents she still mourned, were being ripped from her arms. She couldn't quite bring herself to say that Eleanor Davco was her mother, even though she knew she was the woman who'd given birth to her.

Dylan glanced at her, seemed to sense her unease. But without saying a word, he put a gentle hand on her back to comfort her. Tammie wanted to curl into that comfort, but she kept to her task.

“There's no mention of a baby. At least not what I can see,” Dylan said. He reached over and advanced the page forward again.

Tammie couldn't move. It was as if she were frozen in place, trying to take in all the details. She didn't know what she'd have done if she'd had to look through all this alone.

“Wait,” she said, putting her hand on his arm, when something caught her eye. “Backtrack a bit.”

“What is it?”

“I don't know.”

She put her hand on the microfiche control and slowly scrolled until she found what had caught her eye. It hadn't been front-page news, like the Davco mansion fire, but it had been news.

“That's my father's picture,” she said, tears springing to her eyes. “I don't remember him being that young.”

“You were an infant when this was taken.”

“The money went missing the night of the fire,” she said, the shock of reading about her parents paralyzing her.

When she didn't read on, Dylan continued. “‘Pastor Gardner and his wife have not been available for questioning regarding the missing funds. Town officials are urging the state police to inquire about the missing pastor and his wife and the allegations that they—'”

“Pastor? My father was a pastor? This is saying they stole money from the church. I don't believe it,” she said as she speed read through the article. Tears blurred her vision, and her bottom lip wobbled. Unable to see anymore, she sat back in the seat and let Dylan read on. “This was the scandal Mr. Beaumont was talking about. My parents were part of this scandal. Does it say when they left?”

“This article just says that they hadn't been found for questioning. Let's look ahead.”

He hesitated, and she felt his body stiffen next to her.

Tammie could barely feel her hands moving on the microfiche controls. Through her tear-filled eyes, she fought to see the newsprint on the screen.

“Here,” Dylan said, stilling her hand and backing up.

While the first article was on page three, this article was buried on page nineteen.

“This one says more of the same. Pastor Gardner and his wife are still being sought for questioning regarding the missing funds. They were last seen—” Tammie stopped short.

“That's the night of the fire,” Dylan added.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks.
Oh, Lord, what happened?
“I've got to get out of here,” she said, pulling herself away from the microfiche machine and standing up, unable to take in any more.

T
ammie spun around to look at Dylan. His face was sympathetic, and his eyes filled with a warmth that was hard for her to look at. She couldn't. She didn't want sympathy or reason or understanding. She just wanted someone to tell her that all these lies about the two people she'd loved most in the world weren't true.

“I have to get out of here.”

She ran through the library and pushed out the door right into the busy street.

Without looking where she was going, she stepped off the curb and almost walked into traffic before a local cop pulled her back by the arm.

“Hold on a second, young lady. The antiques will still be there when the traffic goes by.”

Tammie was only marginally aware that the cop had stopped traffic for her and was motioning her to cross. Her feet and legs moved with a will of their own. Stunned was the only way she could have described herself.

All this time, she'd been searching for something. She'd wanted the truth, wanted to confirm her suspicions that her parents' deaths hadn't been some random accident. Someone had to be responsible for this. And yet she hadn't expected this.

Had someone killed them because they were criminals? Stealing church funds, and then—?

She didn't want to think about any of it. She ran up the hill, around the cars lining the church grounds, past the people waving orange flags, and she kept moving until she reached the church doors. All the while, she never looked back.

 

Dylan raced after Tammie. She'd looked as if she were ready to pass out. But when he walked out the library doors into the crowd, he'd lost her for a brief moment, until he saw her running through the parked cars and up the church steps.

He kept running until he reached the church, then took the granite steps two at a time. He yanked the door open and stepped inside, pausing only long enough for his eyes to adjust to the change in light.

Dylan had always believed that God was everywhere. If he was on an op in the middle of a war-torn area of the world, he'd felt God's presence surrounding him. Even when he saw the worst war had to offer, he'd relied on his faith that the Lord had a purpose, even where no man wanted to go.

When he was away from home, he always missed the sense of rightness he felt when he walked into church. There was something about walking into the Lord's home that always gave him a sense of peace. He felt it now, even though his turmoil continued to churn deep inside.

Tammie was sitting in a pew in the center of the church. Her light sobs echoed off the walls and tore at his heart.

Not wanting to disturb her, he slipped into a seat, but kept his distance, close to the end of the aisle.

“I should have told you,” he said quietly, regret eating at him. “Even if I didn't know for sure, I should have prepared you for it.”

Her face was wet with tears when she looked at him. “You knew about all this?”

“That your father was a pastor here in this church, and that there was a question that money was taken? Yes, I found that out yesterday. But I didn't want to tell you until I knew it was more than just rumor. That was wrong of me.”

“I don't know what I expected,” she said quietly, her head bowed as if she were in prayer. “I'd prayed so often these last few weeks that I'd find the truth. But now…”

“Maybe you should ask God for comfort in finding the truth, and for understanding why they made the decision not to tell you. I know it must be hard for you.”

“Hard doesn't quite cover it.” Tammie rubbed her eyes. “I didn't know them at all, Dylan,” she said, looking at him with an expression that told him she'd given up.

He hated to think she'd been brought to that. Even when there was no hope, there was something that kept you moving forward. Any fight Tammie had had in her before was gone now, and it shattered something inside Dylan to see it.

“You've come this far, Tammie. There's still more to learn.”

She laughed—sounded almost like a small sob—and shook her head. “I'm not sure I want to know more. Maybe Bill was right. No good can come from me finding out the truth. I should have listened to him and never come here.”

“Bill?”

“A friend. He didn't want me to come. Maybe he was right.”

Jealousy suddenly kicked Dylan in the gut. He didn't want to ponder who this Bill guy was to Tammie. She'd never mentioned a boyfriend, and he'd have thought she would have by now.

“You don't mean that,” he said, reaching across the back of the pew and placing his hand on her shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze, but pulled it away when she tensed.

“Are you sure? I keep trying to figure out if there is some possible reason why I ended up with them instead of Byron Davco. If I survived the fire and Eleanor didn't, then someone had to know. As much as I don't want to believe it, I think they stole me, just like the church funds, Dylan. If it were any other reason, they would have said something. They would have told me I was adopted. But if they were…criminals…”

“You don't really believe that, do you?”

“How can I not? The people of this town believed my parents, Aaron and Connie Gardner, were criminals, that they stole that money. Did they know about me, too? Did anyone even ask about me?”

“There was no mention of a baby in any of the articles we read. Just an investigation of the church funds.”

She swayed in her seat.

Dylan couldn't stand it anymore. She was shattered, and there wasn't a thing he could do to make it better for her. He moved closer and drew her into his arms. She didn't fight him. Instead, she sank against his chest and sobbed with her hands covering her face.

“They lied to me. My whole life, they lied to me.” She looked up and took a deep breath. “And I think that's what I'm having the hardest time with. I can't…forgive them for it. I know I should, and I've tried. But every time I learn something new about my life, it's so awful. I'm just so…angry with them, and I can't tell them that. I can't look my mother and father in the face and tell them how angry I am or ask them why!”

“If you felt any different, I'd question it,” he said. “You have a right to feel hurt and betrayed about something so important. Don't forget that, or be too hard on yourself because you can't let it go.”

She closed her eyes, trying to compose herself, and he waited. He'd wait all afternoon if he had to. He was struck forcefully by how right Tammie felt in his arms, as if this was where she was meant to be. It should have scared him. He'd never felt this way about a woman before, and certainly not after such a short time. But he couldn't deny this attraction, or the way it moved him.

“Do you think Cash knew? Do you think that's why he's missing?”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Don't forget, Cash has only been missing for a few months. Your parents have been gone almost two years.”

“But you said you thought the two were somehow connected.”

“Yes, in some way. But if the evidence doesn't point in that direction, I can't allow myself to get muddled by what-ifs.”

Tammie sniffed. “Then what? What could he possibly have found out from Serena? And what about the drug charges?”

“Cash worked for the DEA, which is why it was so easy for the authorities to believe the charges against him. It happens—good cop turns bad. In his case, good agent gets caught with the goods. But it didn't go down that way. He was framed. I just need to find out by whom.”

“If someone was really framing him for something, and it had to do with Serena, it had to be more than him finding out that Eleanor Davco's baby had survived the fire. I mean, after all this time, why would it matter? Who besides Byron Davco even cared? Eleanor's not alive. Byron Davco is in a nursing home and doesn't even remember his family. Who'd have something to gain from this that possibly had that kind of power to frame Cash?”

Dylan swallowed. “Aztec Corporation.”

“Who?”

“Did you see the name of the company selling those statues yesterday?”

She shook her head and swiped her face of wetness.

“The reproductions that were smashed when the armoire went over. The name on the truck?”

“Oh, okay. I remember.”

“It kept nagging at me. I'd seen the emblem on the truck before. I'd heard the name, but couldn't place it. Then I remembered something I'd seen at Cash's apartment after he'd gone missing.”

“What was it?”

“It was just a package with a few scraps of paper tucked away. I'd gone looking for pictures, and when I found it I didn't pay it any mind. After I saw that statue at the Davco mansion, it triggered my memory, and I called my sister last night. Sonny is good at digging up information.”

“Did she find out anything?”

“Not much on Aztec Corporation other than that they sell fake Aztec statues that aren't even remotely correct. Sonny was appalled.” Dylan shrugged, knowing that if he'd been there, his sister would have gone on all night about it. “But this morning she e-mailed me about some postcards clipped together with the info on Aztec.”

“What was it?”

“They were pictures of a shipment of paintings that were stolen some years back. One of them surfaced on the black market about six months ago and opened an investigation.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

“The paintings were stolen about two months before you were born.”

“Do you think it's related?”

He cocked his head to one side and thought a moment. “Maybe. I can't say for sure. It could be a coincidence.”

With one eyebrow raised, she said, “There are no coincidences.”

He smiled at that. “That sounds like something I'd say. Why Cash would have either of those things hidden in a drawer, I can't say. But I don't want to jump the gun. It's worth checking Aztec Corporation out a bit more. Sonny said it's quite a large company, though, and it may be hard to find anything useful.”

“What about the stolen piece that resurfaced?”

The church was quiet except for their voices. But the window was open, and every so often the sound of a blaring horn from a car stuck in traffic cut into the quiet.

“I have a friend in Chicago who is pulling some strings to get a copy of the police report. But all that is low priority.”

“Valuable paintings being discovered is low priority?”

“The original owner is dead, and the painting was returned to the estate. The police aren't looking for the thieves, because they can't prosecute. The statute of limitations is up. From what Sonny uncovered, there isn't any information about where the paintings came from or where they've been. It simply said
private collection
.”

“Strange.”

He hadn't been in any hurry to let go of Tammie. He liked a whole lot how it felt, just sitting there holding her. But the realness of just how dangerous a world Cash had stepped into was becoming startlingly apparent.

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Pray with me?”

His words washed over Tammie, and something shifted inside her. She felt as if she were being led to water after days of roasting in the hot sun. Had she really distanced herself from the Lord so much since her parents' deaths that his simply taking her hand in prayer could move her so deeply?

In the silence, they prayed. Dylan whispered a prayer for Cash, and for the strength to see this journey through until he found him. And then for Tammie's parents, so that she could find peace with whatever truths she found.

It was only when she opened her eyes and wiped the tears that had filled them that Tammie saw the pastor standing in the doorway, staring at them.