Season of Secrets by Marta Perry

Author:Marta Perry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2006-09-02T04:00:00+00:00

“It’s frustrating.” Tracey slapped a file down on her desk blotter, the sound masked by the usual hum of activity in the office late that afternoon.

Once again they’d had a futile visit with their witness. Teresa would go so far with Dinah but no further. Before Dinah could put a line on paper, she’d dissolve in tears and run from the room.

The case, frustrating though it was, at least distracted her from the disturbing encounter with Jasper Carr, Marc’s equally disturbing intentions, and the revelation that Carr had left town sometime after Annabel’s death. Maybe, if she put it to her correctly, Tracey could be of help.

“You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?” Tracey ran her hand through her hair, adding to her wild woman look. “I’ve got half-a-dozen other cases to work. If we don’t get something soon, this will be pushed to the back burner. Somebody will look at it once a year, and that’s it.”

“I know.” Dinah closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the spotless apartment, the work-worn mother, the haunted look in the girl’s eyes. “If that happens, she’ll never heal. Never.”

“That sounds like personal experience talking.” Tracey leaned toward her.

She shook her head. “Not really. I’ve gotten past the trauma.”

“Dinah, you wouldn’t say that if you could see your face when you talk to Teresa. Every time you look at that girl, it’s like you’re looking in a mirror.”

“No.” She pushed that away with both hands. “Anyway, it’s not like that. It’s just on my mind because I’m concerned for Court.”

“Are you sure it’s not Marc Devlin you’re concerned about?”

“I’m sure.” She took a breath. Just ask. “You know, you could do something for me that would help resolve this situation.”

Tracey’s eyebrows shot upward. “Something I could lose my job for?”

“No, of course not. I just want to locate someone. Jasper Carr. He used to be my cousin’s gardener. He apparently left town after her death, but I know he’s back, and I’d like to find him.”

“That sounds like a bad idea.”

“Will you do it?” She knew Tracey well enough to know that she might disapprove, but she wouldn’t let her down.

Tracey gave an elaborate sigh. “I suppose. But Dinah, I’m telling you this for your own good. Take a couple steps back from Devlin.”

“I can’t. I—”

“She’s giving you good advice, Ms. Westlake.”

She hadn’t heard Draydon approach. He stood over them. He’d shed his jacket, his tie was askew, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a while.

She straightened, feet crossed at the ankles, hands folded in her lap, spine taut—typical Southern lady posture, drilled into her practically from birth. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Marc Devlin. Ms. Westlake, you don’t want to get drawn in by him.” That was surely sympathy in his face.

“Marc did not kill my cousin.”

He sighed. “I guess you really want to believe that. But you’ve been involved in police work long enough to know that the obvious is true more often than not.”

“Not this time.” She would not let herself respond to the concern on their faces.

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