Marta Perry - Sound Of Fear

“No, but you could easily break an ankle on the rocks.” He looked away, as if he found their closeness uncomfortable.

She had to ask the question that had filled her mind. “Was it really an accident? How could they know if no one saw it?”

“You mean it might have been suicide?” His eyes narrowed, considering. “I don’t know how the police came to that decision. The police chief may have some ideas about it, if he’s willing to talk to me.”

“If I ask him...” she began.

“He’d freeze you out at the first implication that the police hadn’t done their job properly, especially where the Winthrop family is concerned.”

She suddenly needed to distance herself from him. She stepped down, then down again, well aware of his steadying hand on her arm. When they reached the bottom, Barney stopped running back and forth in agitation and nuzzled her hand. She patted him and then turned to face Trey as he jumped lightly down the last step.

“Are you saying the Winthrop family owns the police force as well as everything else in this town?”

“No.” Trey’s face darkened, and he seemed to make an effort to speak evenly. “I mean that a man in the chief’s position isn’t going to speak to an outsider about a police case to begin with. And if there was any question about whether Melanie’s death was accident or suicide, the kindest thing would be to opt for accident and spare the family that added pain.”

She thought of the seventeen-year-old, sent away at what had probably been the most difficult time of her life. “Maybe they deserved it.”

“That wouldn’t be for the police to judge. Or you either, for that matter, at least not without knowing more than you do now.”

She had a sneaking suspicion he was right about that, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Trey Alter had too self-satisfied an opinion of himself already.

“If the police chief won’t talk to me, what makes you think he’ll talk to you?” She recognized an edge to her voice. He probably heard it as well, but he didn’t react.

“Well, for one thing, he’s known me all my life. And for another, I’m an officer of the court, which gives me some status with him.” Trey took a few steps past her. “Let’s get away from the falls so we can hear ourselves think.”

Amanda had almost become used to the roar, the way they said people who lived in Niagara Falls no longer heard the sound. But she had been straining to speak above it, so she nodded, following him back away from the rocks.

“Is there anything else you want to see here?” Trey didn’t sound impatient, she’d give him that, but he might well want to get back to work.

“I’d like to find my mother’s vantage point of the falls, if I can.” She felt herself getting defensive. “And no, I don’t think it’s going to tell me anything after all these years. I’d just like to see it.”

He nodded as if it was perfectly reasonable. If he’d been annoyed with her, he had himself well under control. “Sure thing. It shouldn’t be hard to find. Did you bring the photo with you?”

Amanda retrieved it from the pocket where she’d stowed it for safety. Drat the man—why did he never react the way she expected?

Holding the photo, Trey paced slowly along the bank of the stream, looking up repeatedly to compare the view to the image. On the opposite side of the rushing stream, the thick growth of rhododendrons made an impenetrable barrier. The painting had to have been done from this side.

Trey reached a point at which a slight curve in the streambed had left a little spit of sand and gravel. He stopped, making the comparison again.

“Got it. I thought it might have been about here. Take a look.”

Amanda stepped out onto the sandy spot and looked from the photo to the falls. “You’re right. What made you think it might be here?”

He shrugged. “I’ve tried to get a good photo of the falls a few times. This is the only vantage point that lets you get in both the top and the bottom.”

Amanda stood where she was for a moment. She could so easily imagine Juliet on this spot, the legs of the easel shoved into the sand, a brush behind her ear and another in her hand, brooding over the canvas as she so often did.

As for the other person Juliet might have been imagining in the scene...to Amanda’s disappointment she could see nothing at all. Didn’t they say that blood called to blood? If so, either hers was deaf or she was on the wrong track entirely.

Then it hit her. “This whole thing started because the autopsy on my mother—on Juliet Curtiss—showed she’d never had a child. So wouldn’t the postmortem have shown, at least, whether Melanie Winthrop had carried a child to term? If so...”

Trey seized on the fragment of provable fact. “I’m no expert, but I’d think it would. If they bothered to do a full autopsy in a case of accident. But if they did, the results should be in the coroner’s records, and I ought to be able to access those.”

“So, you’re going to check the coroner’s records.” She surveyed him. “You’re going to talk to the police chief. What am I going to do?”

She could swear there was a twinkle in Trey’s eyes. “I suppose it’s too much to hope you’ll go back to your motel and wait for answers. Or better yet, back to Boston.”

“You sound like Robert McKinley,” she said sourly. “I can’t do nothing.”

“I suppose not.” He sounded regretful. “What about the newspaper accounts from the time? I don’t know how much they’d have reported, but it might give you a fuller picture of the events.”

“That was going to be my first stop before you sidetracked me. I suppose the newspaper has the files? I’ve already checked online, but the archives of the paper don’t go back that far.”

Trey bent to ruffle Barney’s ears absentmindedly. “They haven’t been in a rush to digitize them. There’s not that much call for old copies. The historical society has some, but they wouldn’t have digitized anything that recent.”

“There must be some way of finding them.”

He nodded. “The library has all the back issues on microfiche. It’ll turn you cross-eyed searching, as I know from experience, but you should be able to find what you want there.”

“Good.” Something she could do, at least. “I’ll work on that this afternoon and check back with you. I just wish I could find a place to stay in town. That drive back and forth to the motel is getting old already.”

Trey frowned, looking down at Barney. “I just might be able to find a place that wouldn’t mind a well-trained dog around.” He grinned. “Even if he did flunk out of service dog school.”

The tension involved in being on this spot slid away as she smiled in return. “Where? Lead me to it.”

“There’s an Amish farm near here that takes farm-stay guests in the summer. They recently added a cottage, complete with gas heating and lighting. They don’t normally take guests this time of year, but they might be persuaded to accommodate a friend of mine.”

“Is that how everything around here operates?” She couldn’t help but ask the question. “Based on the good old boys’ network?”

He shrugged. “You might be able to ignore your neighbors in the city, but not in a place like Echo Falls. If you’re done here, we can check it out now.”

Her spirits lifted. “Great. Thanks, Trey.” Impulsively she put out her hand.

He took it in both of his, and in that instant the mood changed abruptly. A not-so-lighthearted connection grabbed her, skittering along her nerves from their clasped hands. Their gazes caught, arrested as the attraction ricocheted between them.

The moment seemed to last forever. Then Trey dropped her hand as if he’d seized something hot. His breathing came as fast as if he’d been running, and hers was about as bad.