Cradle Of Secrets (10 page)

“Yes, he's a few tent lanes down. Almost near the food court set up on the motel lawn. You can't miss him if you go round back here.”

“Thanks. It was nice chatting. And good luck.”

“Make sure you come on back on Tuesday,” he said as Tammie walked away.

As she approached the next tent, she could hear Dylan talking to an older woman. The woman looked as if she was almost flirting with him, laughing and winking until Tammie walked up beside him. Then her expression collapsed.

“Well, now, who's this?” the woman asked.

“Tammie Gardner, I'd like you to meet Mrs. Trudie Burdett, owner of the Auction Acres.”

Tammie extended her hand. “It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Burdett.”

The woman nodded, her gaze holding steady to Tammie's face before she said, “Likewise. You can call me Trudie, dear. I feel so old when I hear my mother-in-law's name.”

“Trudie has been selling her antiques in this very spot for over thirty years.” He looked at her and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, now was her chance.

“Really? Then maybe you knew my parents.”

“Knew? If they lived in Eastmeadow, I knew them. I know just about everyone in this town. If not by name, I know them by face. I never forget a face,” she said, looking straight at Tammie.

“Aaron and Connie Gardner?”

Trudie shook her head. “Gardner? Can't say as I recall them.”

Tammie popped open her purse and pulled out a picture of both of her parents that had been taken on Tammie's sixth birthday. If anyone were to recognize her parents, it would be easier with a photo that was taken closer to the time they lived in Eastmeadow.

But before she had a chance to show it to Trudie, the woman was off to the other side of the tent, yelling at the young man who was sitting on a sofa table.

“How many times have I told you not to stack the furniture that way, Maynard? If you get dirt on the finish, the price goes down.”

“That's Maynard,” Dylan said, smiling comically.

“I see.”

Dylan lifted his hand to wave goodbye. “Trudie, it was a pleasure talking to you. Thanks for the information. And I'll be sure to stop by later.”

Trudie turned and winked. “You do that.”

Taking her by the arm, Dylan led Tammie in the opposite direction.

“But she didn't see the picture,” Tammie protested.

“She doesn't have to.”

“Why not?”

He stopped walking and looked at her. “Because she saw you.” Then he continued walking down the lane.

Tammie had to walk fast to keep pace with Dylan's long strides. “I don't get it.”

“Trudie Burdett practically started this antique fair. If she's been here for over thirty years—and she has—then she knows Serena Davco. She's not going to tell us anything.”

“But I could have asked her about my parents. Maybe she doesn't remember their names, but if I'd shown her the picture—”

“Did you see the way she looked at you?”

“Yes.”

Dylan shot her a quick grin. “She wouldn't have said a word.”

“Why not? She seemed nice enough.”

“She is. But she's still not going to tell us anything.”

It seemed futile to argue with the man, but Tammie did anyway. Frustration building, she asked, “How do you know that?”

He stopped walking when they reached Main Street. With his hands on his hips, Dylan glanced up and down the street, as if he was looking for something in particular.

It amazed Tammie that the street looked nothing like it had yesterday when she arrived. Tents were set up deep into the fields, forming little villages.

Dylan seemed to find what he was looking for across the street and then led Tammie deeper into the marketplace. “I've asked Trudie about Cash probably ten times now. Different things each time,” he finally said. “Each time, she changes the subject, and she never answers the question.”

Tammie stopped short. “And starts flirting?”

He cast her a sidelong glance with a smile that could have lit up the sky. “I think she has a crush on me.”

Tammie chuckled. “Oh, please…”

“What? You don't think so? You wound me.”

Smirking, she said, “I have a feeling your ego can handle it. Okay, fine, Trudie Burdett is a bust. Now I need to go toward the motel, to talk to a man named John Beaumont.”

“Who's John Beaumont?”

“Don't know. But when I was talking to the toy vendor, he mentioned that John Beaumont is from out of town and started working here before him. It's worth talking to him. And he's not a local. His tent is back toward the food court area.”

“Then that's where we need to be.”

They walked through crowds of workers carrying goods, being careful to sidestep anyone who couldn't see them. After asking a few people, they found Beaumont's tent.

John Beaumont looked younger than her parents had been, and Tammie immediately wondered if she'd reached another dead end.

“I started working here as a hand the year the auctions started. I hauled furniture just like these kids here,” he said, pointing to the young men helping out. “You learn a lot if you pay attention, which I did until I was able to start my own business.”

“Then you must remember that big fire at the Davco mansion,” Dylan said.

“Fire?” Beaumont thought for a second. “Oh, you mean the big one up on the hill?”

“That must be the one,” Dylan said.

Beaumont whistled. “I'd just about forgotten about that. It was a long time ago. Must be close to thirty years by now.”

Tammie pressed him further. “Do you remember anything about it?”

The older man chuckled. “I remember it was big news back then. The details are a little sketchy, though. I do remember that the house was off the main road, but you could see that blaze light up the whole sky that night just like it was day. Seemed like the whole town was in the street looking at it. We were packing up that night and I remember we all stopped what we were doing, wondering what had happened. You could smell the smoke from that fire miles away….”

Tammie turned away. The picture Beaumont's words conjured up was too much to imagine. It had to have been horrible for those who lived through it.

Dylan seemed to sense her unrest. “Mr. Beaumont, do you remember what caused the fire?”

The old man drew in a deep breath and scratched his bald spot. “They'd been talking about that fire for weeks after it happened. I was still a young man, and didn't pay it too much attention beyond what people were talking about. I don't recall what started the fire, but with the fire, and the scandal with the pastor—”

“Scandal? What kind of scandal?” Tammie asked.

He pointed toward the center of town. “I'm talking about the pastor who used to serve at the white church on the hill here. I don't remember what the big deal was, but it was news at the time. Whatever it was, folks around here weren't too happy about what went down.”

“Do you remember his name?” Dylan asked.

He shook his head. “It was a long time ago.” Beaumont chuckled. “My memory isn't what it used to be.”

Tammie pulled the photo of her parents out of her purse. “Have you ever seen these two people?” she asked.

Mr. Beaumont looked at the picture and shook his head. He pulled the picture back for another look when Tammie started to put it away, but then dismissed it.

“Like I said, it was a long time ago. I just don't recall all the details.”

“Thank you for all your help.”

“No problem.”

It was hard for Tammie to squash her disappointment as they walked away from Mr. Beaumont's tent. It didn't seem possible that her parents had lived in this town, known these people, and never once mentioned it to her.

“I think you're right. We should split up,” Dylan said.

“I thought you said we'd never find each other.”

“We'll meet back at the library—say, in an hour?”

Tammie glanced at the rows and rows of tents laid out in the fields. “An hour isn't going to do much.”

“Do you have another picture of your parents?”

“Yes.” She took the other photo out of her purse and handed it to Dylan.

“You take one of Cash. We'll show them both, see what we come up with, then compare notes later. Maybe people will be more receptive to answering questions about Cash if you ask instead of me.”

 

Dylan walked through the tent area, looking for anyone who might be old enough to have been in the area during the time when the Davco mansion caught fire. People were oblivious to his comings and goings, and that was okay by him. He didn't want to rouse suspicion that he was looking for information. Experience taught him that this was a town that liked to hold its secrets close.

He was just about to give up and walk back when he spotted two elderly men talking in the aisle.

“Excuse me,” he said, interrupting them. “I was wondering if you could help me win an argument,” he said to the gentlemen. “A female friend of mine says that this couple used to work here at the auctions some years ago, and I think she's wrong.”

The men chuckled. “Leave it to a woman to get the facts all turned around,” one of the men said.

Dylan couldn't help but chuckle himself. Not because the remark was funny, but because he was thinking of the reaction his kid sister would have if she heard a man utter a blanket statement like that about women.

“I've been living in this town my whole life,” the other man said. “Let me see the picture.”

Dylan showed the picture, and the man's smile changed to one of surprise, then recognition.

“Well, I'll be…” he said.

“You know them?”

“Sure do. Guess you lose the argument, young man. If I'm not mistaken, this is my old pastor and his wife.”

Dylan blinked back his surprise. “Pastor?”

“Yeah, he and his wife…Can't remember their names now, but they used to work the auction. Right there on the corner, across from the church.” He pointed back toward the common area, where the library and the church stood. “They raised a lot of money one year selling donated items from the locals. Don't remember what the money was earmarked for, but it left a bitter taste when the church money went missing.”

“What do you mean, it went missing?”

“As in disappeared. No one could find the money. As far as I know, it was never recovered. Ended up being a big investigation. It was a shame they moved away, what with the scandal and all. The pastor was a likeable man. Always did like his sermons.”

“Thanks,” Dylan said, shaking the hands of both men. “Guess I owe the lady dinner.”

The old man chuckled. “Sorry about that.”

I am, too,
Dylan thought as he walked away. If this man was correct, Tammie's parents had suddenly disappeared from Eastmeadow with a whole lot of secrets—and left a scandal in their wake.

D
ylan didn't bother trying to get back to the library to meet Tammie. And he didn't have to check his watch to know whether they'd been walking around for an hour yet. He hadn't. But he figured Tammie would probably take every minute of that hour to flash those pictures around, so he went searching for her in the fields where they'd split up earlier.

She was determined to find the truth about her parents. He couldn't say that he blamed her for wanting to know. But he wondered if she'd truly considered what kind of truth she might find.

Probably not
, he decided. And because of that, he'd keep the conversation with the old man to himself until he'd had a chance to check out whether or not it was fact. The last thing Dylan wanted to do was fill Tammie's head with information that proved to be unfounded.

Tammie's parents had supposedly lived here a long time ago. Memories fade, and people's recollections of events could easily become skewed over the years. The old man had provided the first bit of information that could lead Tammie to find out why she'd been taken to Oregon when her biological father and sister were still alive and living in Eastmeadow.

That meant two things. Tammie's parents had probably known her biological parents. And although Byron Davco might not remember who Tammie was now that he was in the nursing home, he'd known his biological daughter was still alive up until Alzheimer's took hold of him. Otherwise, why wouldn't Serena have been as shocked to see Tammie as she was to see Serena? She was too young to remember Tammie's birth. Someone must have told her about Tammie. And for sure, it hadn't been Aurore or Susan. The only person Dylan could think of was Byron Davco himself.

But why all the pretense? Children were put up for adoption all the time. If everything had been open and aboveboard, why wouldn't the Gardners have told Tammie she was adopted?

Dylan turned the conversation with the men around in his mind and wondered if Serena knew the reason. If she did, had she told Cash? Uncovering old secrets had a way of ruffling feathers.

If it weren't such a serious situation, Dylan would actually have laughed. Cash was better at ruffling feathers to get the truth than anyone he knew. He not only excelled at it, he took pleasure in it.

Cash's disappearance was somehow connected to Serena and to Tammie. Dylan was sure of it. The tough part would be figuring out how and why.

Traffic was still bumper-to-bumper when Dylan got to the street. He weaved in between a car and a truck filled with furniture and darted into one of the aisles, then backtracked until he saw Tammie on a path deep into the field.

She was walking with John Beaumont, and she was laughing. Something Beaumont had said to her had her throwing her head back and placing her hand over her heart as if she couldn't breathe from laughing so hard. Dylan stood, rooted in place, just watching her face. She looked so carefree. He watched how the light from the sun brought out gold and red highlights in her dark hair.

Tammie was a pretty woman, with her shiny hair, high cheekbones and eyes that were lit up like fire. For a moment, the realization took Dylan off guard.

She cocked her head to one side and waved to Beaumont, then walked in the other direction away from Dylan. Trucks with furniture and crates lined both sides of the lane, making it difficult to pass. He didn't want to lose her in the crowd, so he sprinted.

“Tammie!” he called out to her. She turned around and stopped. She smiled when she saw him, her face like sunshine. What a change from this morning, when she'd been consumed with anxiety talking about her parents. It was as if just walking out into the fresh air and being with people had been enough to bring happiness back to her, help her forget how troubled she was.

Dylan was happy for her. And he hated thinking of how learning that her father had been the pastor involved in the town's scandal was going to distress her.

Tammie passed behind a large flatbed truck filled with crates. Maynard Burdett climbed into the back of it with a man Dylan didn't recognize. He did, however, recognize that Maynard was going to lengths to impress the man.

Dylan was only half paying attention to Maynard talking to the man. Instead, he watched as Tammie came around the other side. The two men lifted one of the crates into their arms and began to move it to the side of the truck. He couldn't see where they were placing it. What he could see was the large armoire teetering too close to the edge and the rope that was holding it in place suddenly snapping!

The armoire went down over the side of the flatbed truck and crashed to the ground on the other side, out of view. The two men struggled with the weight of the crate as the back of the flatbed wobbled. Then they lost the battle to hold on to their load. People ran toward the side of the truck that was hidden from Dylan.

“Tammie!” Dylan called out, running to where he'd last seen her. When he got there, he found her flat on her back on the ground. The armoire lay just inches from her, in pieces. The crate the men had been holding had broken open and emptied its contents at Tammie's feet. Dylan pushed through the crowd, his heart pounding in his chest, until he got to her.

The fear on her face was unmistakable. “It missed me.” He wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure him or herself.

“Only by a split hair, child,” Trudie said, running to Tammie's side.

The men on the back of the truck jumped to the ground. Dylan heard the truck's door slam as Maynard came around the corner to survey the damage.

With a deep scowl, the driver said, “Hey, someone is going to pay for this.”

“It ain't gonna be me,” Maynard said, looking at him.

Trudie scowled. “You almost flattened the girl, and you're worried about your paycheck?”

Maynard took in a harsh breath at his grandmother's words.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Trudie asked Tammie.

“I'm fine,” she said, but when Dylan took her by the arm to help her up, he felt her trembling. Or maybe it was him. His heart was racing faster than a locomotive.

“What happened here?” Trudie asked.

“It was an accident, Grandma,” Maynard said.

“I don't care if it was an accident. I've just lost a crate of statues, and that armoire is over a hundred years old,” the driver said.

As the driver and Maynard argued, two workmen struggled to pick up the armoire, now mangled and pulling apart, and carry it out of the aisle. Another man started picking up broken pieces of statues and separating them from the statues that had survived the fall.

The broken armoire and smashed clay told Dylan exactly what kind of damage Tammie had averted by jumping out of the way. She could have been seriously hurt—or worse.

Without thinking, Dylan brushed back the tangled hair that had fallen in front of Tammie's face. Her eyes were bright with fear, and the sight hit him like the blade of a knife. The need to protect her enveloped him.

“I'm fine,” she said again, her eyes locking with his. It was then that he caught the slight tremor of her bottom lip. She quickly averted her gaze and gave her attention to the dirt on her hands. Dylan could tell she was anything but fine.

Voices arguing behind him pulled his attention away from Tammie.

“If you'd moved your truck quick enough, I could have unloaded my pieces myself,” the man who'd been on the back of the truck was saying to Maynard.

Maynard Burdett threw up his hands and took a step back. “Hey, next time I won't offer to help.”

“You call that helping?”

“It
wasn't
my
fault!
Who sits a piece of furniture on the edge of a truck like that, anyway?”

The driver pointed a finger at Maynard. “Those statues are worth more than you'll make this entire week.”

Trudie was standing now, fists by her side. “Common courtesy says you should have waited until I unloaded my trucks before moving in, young man.”

“I don't have all month, lady. The auction starts tomorrow.”

“Don't you think we know that?” Maynard snapped.

Trudie huffed. “You two are a fine pair. You could have killed the girl, and all you're doing is worrying about your load.”

“Good point, Trudie,” Dylan said, holding Tammie's hand as he brought her to her feet. “Not one of you has asked how the lady is.”

The driver of the truck glowered at them both. “I should be asking what you're doing nosing around these grounds, when only the dealers are allowed out here to set up. Accidents like this don't happen when—”

“I was just asking some questions,” Tammie said.

The man looked at Tammie, his eyes cold. “If you don't want to get hurt, maybe you shouldn't go asking so many questions.”

He got into the truck, fired the engine and drove the short distance to the next aisle. Dylan watched as he drove away, making note of where he was going—and the name on the side of the truck.

Aztec Corporation
. He'd seen that name before, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out where.

The truck took a right turn, heading back toward the street.
Interesting,
Dylan thought. The man still hadn't finished unloading his crates.

The only piece of furniture the truck had held was that armoire. Strange. Making a mental note to look into the vendor's tent later, he turned his attention to Tammie.

“My jeans are wrecked,” she said with a shrug and a quick smile. Her knee was visible through the tear in the denim.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“My knee? It'll be fine.”

Answering the worried look he knew was on his face, Tammie rolled her eyes and smiled. “If I said I had a hangnail, would that make you happy?”

He brushed his fingers down her cheek. “No. I don't want you hurt at all.”

Her gaze met his and held it for a long moment. “Too late,” she said.

His face must have shown panic, because Tammie quickly added, “I'm only talking about my ego. It wasn't a very ladylike fall, if you know what I mean.” Trudie burst out laughing. “You can't be graceful
and
make a quick getaway, dear.”

Dylan chuckled at that, more out of nervous energy than anything else.

Trudie touched Tammie's shoulder. “You best be going home to check that knee out.”

“Thank you, Trudie,” Tammie said. “You're right.”

Dylan could tell Tammie was still rattled as they silently walked back to the church parking lot where he'd parked his Jeep.

“You look as though you've got a lot spinning in your head,” she finally said as they reached the Jeep. “Did you find anything out?”

Dylan glanced up at the big white church and thought about telling Tammie what the old man had said about Aaron Gardner being the pastor here years ago.

“You don't think that was an accident back there, do you?” Tammie said, settling in the passenger seat.

“Why do you say that?”

“You've been quiet ever since we left the auction grounds.”

It was true that Dylan was wondering if what had happened was truly an accident. The fact that there was one lone piece of furniture on a truck filled with statues didn't quite sit right with him. But then, what did he know about antiques or auctions? Maybe all the vendors had an odd assortment of things to peddle.

He'd call Sonny tonight and have her check out Aztec Corp. For some reason, it rang a bell with him, and maybe his sister would know why. While he was at it, he'd check in with his partner, Matt, to see if he could find out anything on Aurore and Susan. Although the Captain made it clear that Dylan wasn't to use department resources to gather information about the possible whereabouts of his brother, Dylan knew Matt was eager to help. He'd only use him for information he knew Sonny couldn't find herself.

“I'm just tired from all the talking,” he finally said.

The way the driver of the truck had looked at Tammie, it had almost been as if he blamed her for the lost load. But Dylan had no proof that what had happened was anything but an accident. And because of that, he was content to let Tammie think it was—at least for the moment.

When he had a better understanding of why that truck had been down that lane, he'd share his suspicions with her. For now, he just needed to get her back to the mansion so that he could do a little investigating on his own.

 

“Where have you been all day?”

Aurore's glare said much more than words ever could, Tammie thought as she walked up the walkway toward the mansion's door. She and Dylan had debated whether to take the time to go back to the campground to get Tammie's car or come straight to the mansion. They both wanted a chance to talk to Serena, so Tammie had suggested they get her car so that Dylan could talk to her first and then leave to do the errands he'd mentioned to her.