Reckless Hours: a Romantic Suspense novel (Heroes of Providence Book 3) (13 page)

“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 working here most of her life—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? I’m so offended.”

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 my toy vendor friend over there, he mentioned that John Beaumont is from out of town and started selling here at the auction 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.

It was hard to concentrate. Any one of these people might know her parents. But Tammie found her mind wander to the man she was walking with. With each passing moment, she was drawn to him. The way he stood tall and sure of himself. The strength he exuded made her feel so safe. It occurred to her that it had been a long time since she’d felt that level of safety. Most certainly it was before her parents has been killed.

After asking a few people, they finally found Beaumont’s tent.
As they stepped inside, Tammie had to squint to adjust her eyes to the change of light.
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,” John 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 years ago,” Dylan said.

“Fire?” Beaumont thought for a second. “Oh, you mean that big house up on the hill on the other side of town?”

“That must be the one,” Dylan said.

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

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

The older man chuckled and shook his head. “My memory isn’t too good about such things. I remember it was big news back then though. It was in all the papers. The details about it 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. Sad thing. The woman died.”

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 but I was long gone from town. 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. And when I came back a few months later, people were still talking. 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. “I meet so many people. 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, and 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. He was sure it had nothing to do with Cash’s disappearance, but maybe it would shed some light on the family itself and the people surrounding them. One thing might not have anything to do with the other. But what did he have to lose?

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. If Sonny were here she’d be all over the man about it.

“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 common, 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 and charging for parking on the church grounds. 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.” The man rubbed his chin. “Ended up being a big investigation. Big one. It was a shame they moved away, what with the scandal and all. The pastor was a likeable man. Always did like him.”

“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 carrying a whole lot of secrets with them—and left a scandal in their wake.

# # #

• Chapter Seven
  

Dylan didn’t have to check his watch to know whether they’d been walking around for an hour yet. He knew he hadn’t been out in the fields that long. But he figured Tammie would probably take every minute of that hour to flash those pictures around. He started searching for her where they’d split up earlier and glanced down each row to see if she was still there.

She was determined to find the truth about her parents. But he wondered if she’d truly considered what kind of truth she might find.

Probably not,
he decided. He only knew that because, despite his conviction that Cash had been framed, he was afraid of what information he’d find that might go against his belief that his brother was innocent.

And because of that, he’d keep the conversation he’d had with the old man to himself until he checked out whether or not it was fact. The last thing Dylan wanted to do was fill Tammie’s head with condemning 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 detail 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 right here in Eastmeadow all this time.

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. How could he not? If Byron Davco hadn’t know, then why wouldn’t Serena have been as shocked to see Tammie as Tammie was to see Serena?

The little girl in that picture with the pregnant woman looked too young to remember Tammie’s birth. Serena had insisted she’d heard a baby cry, and Aurore had quickly corrected her. But that doesn’t mean Serena was wrong. Still, someone might have simply told Serena about Tammie at some point. Most likely, 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 for all kinds of reasons. If everything had been open and aboveboard, why wouldn’t the Gardners have told Tammie she was adopted? It seems very likely that Tammie should have grown up in that mansion with her sister all these years instead of moving clear across the country with people—a pastor in this town—and then never having contact with the family she had here in Massachusetts.

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 with people who wanted those secrets to stay that way.