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  “Yeah, it happens. But don’t you think by now someone would have found out? I mean, I’ve had blood drawn tons of times during medical exams. Don’t you think someone would have questioned my blood type if it didn’t match my parents? Nothing got past my mother. She was so good at keeping records. Nothing like me.” She closed her eyes, then whispered, “Nothing like me.”

  Sighing, she glanced down at the report. “This test doesn’t show blood type.”

  “Maybe you have the same blood type as one of your parents. Lots of people share the same blood type.” He shrugged. “Okay, so you weren’t switched at birth. Maybe you were adopted.”

  “If I was adopted, why didn’t they tell me? They never kept anything from me.”

  “People do that. They were from a different generation. A different place. You knew they weren’t originally from Vancouver. Maybe they were waiting to tell you.”

  She chuckled wryly. “My whole life?”

  He shrugged.

  Tammie stared at the envelope and sniffed. “They just didn’t want me to find out, Bill.”

  “Don’t go there again, Tam. I beg you. It won’t bring your parents back.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Why don’t you believe me about this? I knew my parents. If I so much as had a hangnail, they took me to the doctor’s office. If they really didn’t know I wasn’t their biological daughter, they would have found out. I don’t think this was a mistake, Bill,” she said, trying to keep her pain out of her voice. “They knew. They just chose not to tell me. The question is, why?”

  The sting was so sharp, it was like losing them all over again. The one thing she’d learned since her parents’ deaths was that life couldn’t go on unless you picked yourself up and put your best foot forward. The first step was admitting the truth of what was in that file.

  “Maybe they were afraid you would reject them. It doesn’t have to be something sinister.”

  “I loved my parents. I would never reject them no matter what this file has to say.” She lifted the paper, then let it slide to the far side of her desk.

  Bill came around to her side. “You can’t ask them about it now. Just let it go.”

  Tammie swiped another tear and stared up at his pleading eyes. “You of all people know I can’t do that. They were the most open, honest people I knew. It doesn’t make sense that they would have kept this from me.”

  She looked at Bill and, through tear-filled eyes, said the things she couldn’t put into words.

  Bill sighed. “You’re not returning to the college next year, are you?”

  Her bottom lip wobbled. “You know I’ve always suspected their deaths weren’t an accident. A diesel boat doesn’t explode when taking on fuel unless something ignites it. Even a faulty wire would have caused only a small fire, giving them plenty of time to get off the boat. I saw the explosion from the parking lot, Bill. The boat went up like an atomic bomb. Even the fire investigator said they should have had time to escape, and yet the boat was engulfed almost immediately.

  “Things just don’t add up. They were acting so weird, insisting I go away with them before school was over. I would have been on that boat, too, if I hadn’t been so late getting there. I need to know the truth. But I honestly have no idea where to start.”

  *

  “You should start here.”

  Dylan peered over the side of the flatbed truck. Mrs. Burdett stood at the side of the road, giving him instructions on how to retie the ropes that were supposed to keep her priceless antiques in place. This not being the first time he’d been given a lesson from the elderly woman, he’d actually thought of passing by her when he saw her truck pulled over to the side of the road.

  But guilt crept up his spine, reminding him he was not only a cop, but a Marine, as well. Or at least he used to be. And at one time, he’d even been a Boy Scout. That still meant extending help to little old ladies in need, even when he was practically being forced out of town against his will.

  “Nah, you need more support on this end.”

  He wrapped the thin, almost clothesline-like rope around the solid sideboard snug up against the back of the truck. Even as he did it, he knew the rope was going to snap again.

  “Who packed the truck for you, Mrs. Burdett?” he called down.

  “Trudie,” she said, reminding him of her request that he call her by her first name. Tipping her frayed straw hat up so that she could meet his gaze, she harrumphed.

  His look was apologetic. “Okay, Trudie.”

  “Had to do it myself. That lazy good-for-nothing grandson of mine took off this morning after promising he’d help me load the truck. Probably down at Handies again with his lazy-boned girlfriend. Seems all they do these days is play pool and text on their cell phones, the two of them. I told him I had to get these pieces down to Jackson’s. They have to be photographed for the catalogs before the end of the day, or I’ll miss my spot during the auction. And I’ve held that spot going on thirty-three years now.”

  “Well, I’d hate for you to lose your spot. But we’re going to need something a little stronger than what you have here to secure these pieces, or you’ll lose the entire truckload down Main Street before you even make it to Jackson’s.” Dylan jumped down from the truck and stood directly in front of the elderly woman. She was no more able to haul this furniture onto a truck by herself than a five-year old. He had a feeling he wasn’t the first Boy Scout to have helped her out today.

  “You shouldn’t be moving furniture anymore. You don’t want to break your hip again, do you?”

  She straightened her spine. “Who’s been telling you such things? Betcha it’s that new waitress down at the diner. She’s from out of town and she can’t keep her mouth shut for breathing. There’s nothing wrong with my bones, son. I got my new hip two years ago, and I’m as good as I was the day I started the Auction Acres.”

  Dylan winked. “Course you are. And just as pretty, too.” Her quick grin twisted into a forced frown, but Dylan knew she’d been flattered by the compliment, even as transparent as it was.

  “Don’t you go sweet-talking this woman. If you were this slick with the young ones you’d be married off by now, not chasing down that brother of yours.”

  Dylan winced at the mention of Cash, but he let it pass. He’d already grilled Trudie once about his brother, and it had been clear she didn’t have a clue who he was talking about. No one in this town did even though it was clear Cash had spent a good amount of time investigating something here. The one person he knew would recognize Cash was Serena Davco, a local woman who seemed as mysterious as the legend around the house she lived in. But she was the one person Dylan hadn’t been able to see.

  “Next time, you might want to think of calling some professionals to help out, if Maynard is too busy,” he said, changing the subject “All it would have taken is one more pothole and you’d have lost the whole load in the middle of the road instead of just that chair.”

  He pointed to the side of the road, where what was left of a wooden chair sat broken and splintered. “Doesn’t bode well for business.”

  “No, it does not. I’ll be sure to tell Maynard that bit of news.” She harrumphed again, this time with a little additional steam. “Not that it’ll do an ounce of good for the half ounce of sense he has in his head these days.”

  Trudie was still grumbling about her kin as she climbed into the truck, pulled out onto the road and sped off, the engine coughing black fumes that mixed with the kicked-up dirt. Laughing, Dylan strode back to his Jeep and swung the door open. Before he could climb in, a red subcompact car with rental plates rolled to a stop in front of him.<
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  Dylan did a double take; he couldn’t believe his eyes. He glanced up at the big ol’ sky and smiled. Maybe he wouldn’t be leaving town just yet after all.

  Heat seared his cheeks as the woman behind the wheel of the car rolled down her window. Reaching into his Jeep, he grabbed the picture he’d found in his brother’s apartment and stared at it for a brief moment. Then he glanced back at the woman just to make sure. He really didn’t need the extra look. He’d memorized the face in the picture over the two months since Cash had gone AWOL. This was the woman. Serena Davco. Since the photo had been taken, her hair had been cut in a straight style that fell around her cheeks, but the color was the same, as were the dark blue eyes.

  The woman’s smile was pleasant as she cocked her head to one side. “Hi. I was hoping you could help me out. I’m looking for a hotel in town that might have some vacancies. Do you know of any? Every place I’ve tried is full.”

  Anger surged through him but he held it back. Dylan tossed the picture onto the driver’s seat and strode into the middle of the road. He’d been knocking on Serena Davco’s door for weeks, and he’d had the housekeeper slam the door in his face each time. For weeks Serena been giving him the runaround and now she seemed content to play with him out in the middle of the road as if she didn’t even know who he was. There was no way he was letting her get away with not talking to him now.

  “Well, it’s about time you showed your face, lady.”

  She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s about time you do. You’re the only one in town who knows who Cash Montgomery is and I’m not letting you out of my sight until you tell me where the hell he is!”

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