Sound Of Fear. Marta Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ even the private pieces you have that aren’t for sale. If I could just take a quick look at what’s here...”

      “Not tonight,” she repeated, putting a bit more emphasis on the words. Maybe she was being unfair, but she suspected that his eagerness stemmed at least in part from a desire to cash in on the publicity that had surrounded Juliet’s death. “We’ll talk soon,” she added, then slipped inside and closed the door before he could come up with an argument.

      For a moment she just stood, leaning back against the door, relief sweeping over her. Home. It felt like a refuge at the moment. As long as she didn’t let her mind stray to the possibility that it might not be hers.

      Barney was pressing up against her, whining for her attention. She ruffled his ears. If only she could talk this over with someone. Her friend Kara would be ideal—she knew how to listen without trying to solve your problems for you. But Robert had said to tell no one.

      No sense in paying an attorney if you don’t take his advice. Her mother had said that when she’d been brought, reluctantly, to making out a will. Had she realized the will could be contested? Obviously not, or she’d have told Robert the truth.

      In a crazy way, that was reassuring. It seemed to show that Juliet hadn’t conceived of anyone thinking Amanda wasn’t her child. Not that Amanda doubted her love, even in the face of the news that had turned her world upside down.

      Barney nudged her hand impatiently, then let out a single bark. He trotted a few steps away and then looked back at her, whining.

      Supper? But he was headed for the den, not the kitchen. She frowned when he barked again. “All right, Barney. Enough. What’s so important?”

      He trotted toward the den and again looked back at her. Obviously she was expected to follow him. She obeyed, knowing he wouldn’t quit. “Whatever is wrong with...”

      She stopped in the doorway, staring, shivering a little when chill air reached her. The window that overlooked the tiny garden behind the house was broken. Shards of glass lay on the Oriental carpet. Fear kept her immobile for another instant.

      She should run, get out, call the police...but clearly the intruder was gone. Barney looked at the broken window with an air of triumph, his tail waving as if he announced that he’d vanquished the invader. He’d hardly react that way if someone were still in the house.

      “Good dog, good boy.” She patted her knee, drawing him back to her. The glass could give him a nasty cut on the paw. He came, rubbing his nose against her palm. “Good Barney,” she said again, holding him by the collar.

      Calling the police was the obvious next step, but a quick glance told her there’d be little they could do. It didn’t look as if the thief had been in here long enough to take anything. The only sign of disturbance besides the broken window was the painting that lay facedown on the rug, its frame broken.

      Amanda had to restrain herself from rushing to pick it up. Juliet had done that painting the summer Amanda went to camp for the first time, when she was ten. A realistic-looking view of a waterfall, it was very different from her usual work. But Juliet had been attached to it, and it had hung over the fireplace in the den since that summer. If it was damaged—

      She’d have to wait until the police arrived to see. She backed out of the room, dragging Barney, who clearly wanted to remain at the scene of his triumph. Amanda closed the door, ignoring the way he whined at the crack, and pulled out her cell phone.

      The police first. Assured they’d be there soon, Amanda leaned against the wall, discovering that her knees were weak. Silly, but normal, she supposed.

      Clutching the cell phone in one hand and Barney’s collar in the other, Amanda went through the rest of the downstairs. Nothing was disturbed. The thief hadn’t gotten far before Barney caught up with him. Thank goodness he apparently hadn’t had a weapon.

      Shaken by what might have happened, Amanda sank down on the rug and put her arms around the dog. If she’d lost him, too...

      It seemed an eternity until the doorbell rang. She peered out the side window. Reassured by the sight of the uniforms, she opened the door.

      Much ado about nothing, she told herself a half hour later, when she closed the door behind them again. One of them had been obliging enough to help her tape cardboard in place over the broken panes and sweep up the broken glass while the other filled out a report.

      Their attitude said she’d been lucky. Nothing missing and only minor damage that her insurance would most likely cover. With a parting admonition to use the alarm system at all times, they’d gone.

      “So that’s it,” she told Barney. “Let’s see how bad the damage was to the painting.”

      He woofed as if he understood and followed her back to the den. Amanda shivered a little when she paused inside the door. This room, at least, wouldn’t feel like a refuge again for a time. While Barney nosed around the broken frame, Amanda lifted the painting gingerly. She turned it over and let out a sigh of relief. The only damage was to the frame.

      Odd, that the thief had gone straight to the painting. A burglar would probably look for expensive electronics, rather than a painting. Unless he’d thought it hid a safe. Or perhaps the thief knew whose house this was and had some idea of the value of a Juliet Curtiss painting.

      Amanda smoothed the canvas out flat, trying to look at it as if for the first time, but it had become so much a part of the surroundings that it was impossible. The falls were very realistic, as was the dark water at the base and the jagged rocks that interrupted the water’s flow. A little shiver went through her. She’d always found the tone of the picture rather ominous. Her mother must have loved it, since it had pride of place in the room where they usually spent the evenings. But there had been times when she’d regarded it broodingly, her face set, maybe dissatisfied with her own work.

      Amanda started to put the painting on the side table until she could arrange to have it reframed, but something on the back caught her eye. Along the bottom, in her mother’s impeccable printing, ran a tiny line of text, so tiny she had to carry the painting to the lamp to make it out.

      In memoriam. M, April, 1989. Echo Falls. Too young to die.

      It was the date that jolted Amanda: 1989. She’d been born on February 10, 1989. If that date, at least, was true.

      Amanda sank into the desk chair, studying the face of the painting, then turning it again to read the words on the back. It was too much of a coincidence. Or was she thinking that only because of the shocks she’d had?

      No. She couldn’t buy that. It had to mean something. She had no idea where Echo Falls might be, or who M had been. But she intended to find out.

      * * *

      IF SHE WERE PUNCTUAL, the new client should be showing up in the next few minutes. Theodore Alter, Trey to his friends, straightened his tie and prepared for the novelty of a new client. New clients had been thin on the ground for the firm of Alter and Glassman since the scandal broke involving the former head of the law practice. He wanted to make sure this one didn’t slip through his fingers.

      Unfortunately, he had no idea what Ms. Amanda Curtiss of Boston wanted with an attorney in tiny Echo Falls, Pennsylvania. The contact had been made by someone he’d met at a conference last year. He and Robert McKinley had sat and talked one evening, exchanged business cards and parted, sure they’d never see each other СКАЧАТЬ