Vanish in Plain Sight. Marta Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ as if willing the police car to appear. “Fine.” He brushed his hands on his jeans. “I guess I’d better get washed up.”

      She followed him to the back door. His gait was ever-so-slightly uneven, reminding her of how he’d ended his woodcutting. “Are you all right?”

      “What do you mean?” He turned on her, his lean, strong-featured face forbidding.

      “I just… You looked as if you’d hurt yourself when you were cutting wood.”

      “I’m fine. Just got a stitch in my side.” He held the door for her. “This leads into the addition to the house, where I’ve been working.”

      She went up the two steps into the house, steeling herself. No matter how much this affected her, she didn’t want to show her pain in front of this stranger.

      But it was just a room—long, running across the width of the farmhouse, with a fieldstone fireplace in the middle of the back wall. The walls were bare to the studs, with broken paneling stacked on the floor.

      “I’ll get washed up. Adam will probably be here by then.” He disappeared into a room that must be a kitchen, and she heard the sound of running water.

      She set her bag on a rough worktable and looked around. There was nothing to see. Just a virtually empty room, a shell waiting for renovation. If Link Morgan hadn’t decided to tear off the old paneling, he wouldn’t have found the suitcase. She’d have gone on for maybe the rest of her life knowing nothing more than that her mother had abandoned her.

      Morgan came back in, pulling a flannel shirt on over his T-shirt. He was thin, she realized, not just lean. Strongly muscled but underweight, as if he’d been sick. Maybe her question about being hurt hadn’t been too tactful.

      “It was there, next to the fireplace.” He indicated the spot with a nod. “When I saw what was inside—well, I had to call the police.”

      Delaying his renovation, obviously. “I guess you’re eager to get the work done so you can enjoy your house.”

      He shook his head sharply. “I’m renovating it to sell. I want to get it finished and put it on the market before winter.”

      His priorities were clear, it seemed.

      But so were hers. She’d governed her life by the knowledge that her mother hadn’t loved her enough to stay with her. Now she had a hint, the tiniest thread, which seemed to say that might not be true. No matter who it inconvenienced, she wouldn’t stop pulling at that thread until she knew the truth.

      LINK COULDN’T HELP but compare the woman in front of him with the child in the photograph who’d taken such a hold on his emotions. The adult Marisa had a slender, delicate build, like the little girl. Her brown hair, a bit darker than the shade in the picture, reached her shoulders, curling slightly.

      The eyes in her oval face were those of the child in the picture—golden brown, with a touch of vulnerability that seared him. He couldn’t let anyone lean on him, especially not this vulnerable stranger with the familiar eyes.

      “Is something wrong?” She brushed her hair back, flushing slightly. “A smudge on my face?”

      “No.” It was his turn to feel embarrassed. “You just… I guess I was comparing you with the photo in the suitcase.”

      “Photo?” She was clearly at sea.

      “Adam didn’t tell you? There was a picture of your mother and you in the suitcase. That’s how we were able to identify the owner so quickly. I’m surprised Adam didn’t mention it.”

      “Maybe he did. I guess I found the news all a bit hard to take in.”

      “You must have dropped everything to get here so quickly.” Was it odd, her showing up so fast? He wasn’t sure.

      “Once I heard, I couldn’t think of anything else.” She rubbed her arms, as if she felt a chill. “My work is freelance, so I just packed it up and brought it. I couldn’t not come, once I heard.”

      He considered how that must have felt. “That almost sounds as if you were expecting something of the kind.”

      “Of course I wasn’t.”

      There was a hint of something held back in her tone that bothered him.

      No getting involved. Stay out of it. But he had to ask. “Did your mother know my uncle?”

      “I have no idea.” The brown eyes flashed. She clearly resented the implication.

      Had he been implying anything? He just wanted to understand this, so he could put it behind him.

      Marisa turned away, seeming to glance around the room almost at random, as if searching for something to take them away from an awkward place. “It looks as if you’re making good progress in here.”

      “I wasn’t, but once the police got into the act, the paneling came down pretty fast.” Almost instantly he regretted the careless words, because she paled, obviously understanding why the police had gotten involved.

      “We didn’t find anything.”

      He rushed the words. It didn’t help. His hands curled into fists. The whole situation angered him. Talking to this woman was like walking through a minefield, where any step could end up maiming someone.

      Relief flooded through him at the sound of a car. “That’ll be Adam.” He went quickly to the door.

      Adam got out of the police car, alone this time, and pulled out the suitcase. So, he was going to show it to her. Well, Marisa had probably as much right to it as anyone.

      “Adam.” He could only hope the relief didn’t show in his voice. “Ms. Angelo, this is Adam Byler.” He made introductions as Adam walked in. “Adam, Marisa Angelo. But I guess you’ve spoken on the phone.”

      Adam nodded, shaking hands gravely before swinging the suitcase onto the worktable where it had lain the previous day. Link was glad to retreat into the background while Adam went over the circumstances of finding the case and identifying her mother from the photograph.

      “Yes, Mr. Morgan told me about it.” Marisa reached toward the case, her hands hesitant. “May I see?”

      “Of course. We’ve already run a few tests on it, just to be on the safe side.” Adam took a step back, as if giving her space.

      Marisa opened the case. The photograph now lay on top, faceup, so that it was the first thing she saw. Link could hear the way her breath choked at the sight. His throat tightened in response.

      She picked up the photograph, holding it for a long moment, her fingers caressing the pictured faces. Then she cradled it against her chest.

      “This is mine.” She looked at Adam, as if expecting an argument.

      “I suppose it is.” His voice was gentle. “Or maybe more accurately your father’s, but we haven’t been able to reach him.”

      He knew Adam well. Maybe that was how he detected the hint of suspicion underlying the words.

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