Incriminating Evidence. Amanda Stevens
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to request a DNA sample from Orson Lee Finch had suddenly morphed into something darker and much more complex. He thought about his uncle’s warning not to get involved and Nick’s answering assurance that he could handle himself. That’s what we all say until we’re in too deep and there’s no turning back.
Was he already in too deep? He was attracted to Catherine March, no question, but he had always prided himself on his level-headedness. On his ability to steer clear of dangerous distractions. He didn’t know if he could do that with Catherine. He didn’t know if he wanted to.
Beyond her physical allure, she had presented him with an intriguing case, the kind he hadn’t come across since he’d left the police department. He hadn’t realized until that moment how restless he was, how hungry he’d become, in more ways than just one.
“Do you mind if I take the music box back to the office? I don’t have a print kit with me.”
“No, I...no.” She stood abruptly. “I’ll get something to put it in, although I suppose we’ve handled it too much already.”
She brought him a bag from the kitchen and he carefully placed the music box inside. “I’ll take good care of it.” He stood and she walked him to the door.
“Thank you again for coming.”
“Anytime. I mean that, Catherine. If you see anything out of the ordinary or if you just feel uneasy, I’m only a phone call away.”
She followed him out to the porch and stood at the top of the steps as he descended. When he got to the bottom, he turned with a wave, but she was no longer watching him. Her attention was fixed on something in the garden, and he turned with a frown, almost expecting to find the stranger from the doorway lurking beneath one of the dripping trees.
He saw nothing, heard nothing, but a chill swept across his nerve endings as his gaze returned to Catherine March.
* * *
THE WEATHER WAS still clear by the time Catherine set out for work and she decided to take a chance that the promised thunderstorms would hold off until she returned home that evening. She didn’t much like to drive and the walk from her apartment to the university was so beautiful. Many of the homes in her adopted neighborhood were historic with walled gardens and secret courtyards that could be glimpsed through wrought-iron gates. The scent of jasmine clung to the humid air, tugging loose memories from her childhood. She missed her mother. Missed her soothing voice and gentle hand, her quiet smile and the too-rare glint of mischief in her blue eyes. Everything will be okay, Cath. You’ll see. Just keep breathing. One day at a time.
What if another mother was still out there somewhere? Watching from afar? Trying to assuage Catherine’s loneliness in the only way she knew how?
Catherine wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She wasn’t ready to move on. She wasn’t ready to let Laura March slip away from her. She needed to clutch those memories tight.
Maybe it had been a mistake to hire a private investigator. She had no doubt Nick LaSalle would be good at his job. Maybe too good. Did she really want to know about her past? Was she ready to make peace with her DNA?
“Miss, you okay?”
She started out of her reverie. A man had approached her on the street. She’d been so deep in thought, she hadn’t even noticed him. Now her hackles rose as she nodded. “I’m fine.”
“You look a little lost,” he said. “Need directions?”
She mustered a smile even as she backed away. “Kind of you to ask, but I know where I’m going.”
She just had no idea where she’d come from.
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