Marta Perry - Sound Of Fear

“Pregnant or an addict?” Those were the obvious answers.

“Pregnant,” his father said reluctantly. “She was sent off to have the baby and put it up for adoption.”

“So that may be Amanda Curtiss’s answer. There must be records...”

“It’s not as simple as that. Melanie didn’t go through with the plans. She disappeared, and as far as I know, she wasn’t seen or heard from until the day she was found lying on the rocks at Echo Falls.”

He leaned back in the chair, breathing as if he’d been running, his face gray. Alarmed, Trey clasped his wrist. “Dad...”

“Now that’s enough talk.” Trey hadn’t realized his mother was standing at the doorway until she hurried to his father. “Ted, you know you shouldn’t tire yourself that way.” She picked up a glass of water and held it to his lips.

“I’m sorry.” Guilt had a stranglehold on Trey’s throat. “I shouldn’t have kept him talking so long.”

“Nonsense.” His father pushed the glass away fretfully. “Don’t fuss, Claire. I’m fine.”

“Supper will be ready in five minutes. Trey, you can set the table.” She shooed Trey out of the room ahead of her.

“I didn’t mean...” he began, but his mother shook her head.

“You couldn’t have known it would affect him that much.” She didn’t bother to deny she’d been listening. “But he wouldn’t want you to keep it from him.”

“I don’t get it. Why should it upset him that much? It’s not as if you were close friends with the Winthrops.”

“Your father was the family’s attorney in those days.” His mother stirred gravy vigorously with an air of not knowing what she was doing. “They fell out over this business of Melanie’s pregnancy. He thought they were making a mistake to handle it that way, disregarding the girl’s wishes. That was the last thing he did for them, and I remember that his partner was furious that he gave up such a lucrative client. But when it comes to principles, your father is a stubborn man.”

Trey wasn’t sure what to say. “I didn’t know he’d ever represented them.”

His mother handed him a pot of mashed potatoes. “Put that in a bowl.” She gave him a half smile. “I’m sure your father never regretted losing them.” She hesitated. “I’d like to tell you to drop the whole thing, but I know better. You’re just as stubborn and principled as your father. You’re going to help this woman, aren’t you?”

He paused, but there really was only one answer. “Yes. I guess I am.”

CHAPTER THREE

AMANDA WASN’T QUITE sure how she’d let Trey Alter talk her into changing the plans she’d made. She had no particular reason to trust him. Just because Robert had recommended him, that didn’t mean she should let him dictate what she did.

But after telling herself all that, here she was, getting into Trey’s car in front of his office the next day.

“Somehow I thought this was the kind of car you’d have.” She snapped her seat belt.

Trey sent her a startled glance. “What’s wrong with my car?”

“Nothing. Nice, conservative sedan, tan, sedate—just the thing for a family lawyer to drive.”

Instead of taking offense, he grinned. “Stodgy, in other words. If it’ll make you feel any better about me, I also own a beat-up, four-wheel drive pickup. Red.”

“With a gun rack behind the seat?” she inquired.

“You bet. Now you don’t know whether I’m a good ole boy or a stuffy lawyer.”

She couldn’t deny that he’d intrigued her. “So which is it?”

“Both. Or neither, depending on your point of view.”

“Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t succumb to stereotypes.”

He shrugged. “No problem. We all do it sometimes.”

“Yes.”

People had thought that because Juliet was an artist, she couldn’t possibly have been a typical soccer mom. Maybe she wasn’t, but she’d been there for every single event in Amanda’s life, including being a room mother and chaperoning school trips.

They hadn’t gone more than a mile out of town, and she hadn’t managed to ask him what, if anything, he’d found out, when he turned off the main road onto a farm lane.

The car hit a pothole, and he winced. “Sorry. Guess I should have made you ride in the pickup. The milk tankers really tear up this road.”

Amanda glanced across a cornfield, stalks yellow and ready for cutting, to a tidy white farmhouse. “No power lines,” she commented. “I assume it’s Amish?”

He nodded. “How did a Boston vet become able to identify an Amish farm at a glance?”

“My graduate degree is from the University of Pennsylvania. A lot of their large animal work is carried out in the Lancaster County area. And I had a practice there for a time.”

“So you know enough not to gawk when you see a bonnet, or try to take a photograph of an Amish person?”

“At least that much,” she said gravely. “Look, shall we stop evading the point and get to it? Did you find out anything?”

“I’m not sure how much...” The car hit a rut, and he broke off abruptly. “How about I concentrate on getting us there without ruining my shocks? Then I’ll tell you what I’ve been able to find out so far.”

“Fair enough.” She gripped the armrest. “Are the falls on private land?”

“No, but this is the shortest access to the bottom of the falls, and Eli never minds folks driving up his lane as long as they don’t make a mess. You can take a township road to the state lands, but it’s out of the way.”

She subsided, letting him concentrate on the road, if she could dignify it by calling it that. She had been so taken up with her own problems the previous day that she hadn’t really noticed him. Now she had time for a closer look.

Not bad. Nice, even features in a strong face, brown hair with just a hint of bronze when the light hit it, a pair of level brows and a strong, stubborn jaw. He was in is early thirties, and she wondered what he found to do for fun in a town like Echo Falls.

Of course, he could be married with a couple of kids, but she didn’t think so. She hadn’t seen any family photos or childish artwork in his office, and he didn’t wear a ring.

Not that it mattered in the least what his marital status was, she assured herself.

“There are a few hunting cabins out that way.” He waved a hand toward a road that cut off around the curve of the hillside. “When the state took over the falls, they didn’t buy up much of the surrounding land. Probably thinking the less accessible it was, the better.”

He reached a slightly wider place in the road and pulled to the side, turning off the ignition. Ahead of them, the road seemed to peter out to a mere track. “We’ll park here and go the rest of the way on foot. You don’t mind a walk in the woods, do you?”

“No, and Barney will enjoy it.” She got out and opened the back door for Barney to jump down from the seat. He stood for a moment, nose raised to the unfamiliar scents.

“This way.”

Trey slung on a small backpack and gestured to a path. No sign. As he’d said, the state didn’t care to make it easy for tourists.

They headed along a path that slanted slightly upward. Barney, happy to be released, scampered along, dodging from one side of the trail to the other to explore.

Trey eyed him. “He’s not going to run off chasing a deer, is he?”

“I won’t say he wouldn’t be tempted, but he’s well trained.” She smiled. “Although he was actually a dropout from a service dog organization I’m involved with.”

“What did he do? Flunk his final?” Trey gave her a quizzical look.

“Not exactly. He could master the techniques, all right, but he didn’t have that extra edge of concentration and empathy that’s needed for a service dog. So he came home with me, and we’re both happy.”