“Of course, that was the story that they gave the priest,” Beatrice continued. “If she’d committed suicide, she couldn’t have been buried in the church. Her husband and son would never have been able to eventually rest beside her.”
“You think she committed suicide?” I asked. I made the mistake of shifting my gaze to her, and another wave of dizziness washed over me.
“You saw her portrait—those sad eyes. I’ve read some of the entries in her diary. I think she was homesick for Spain, and I think she was unhappy in her marriage. One night she wandered up here, and it would be so easy to just lean over the edge and let yourself fall. Don’t you think?”
I didn’t want to think about it. I shifted my gaze back to Sloan and drew in a deep breath.
“Then everything would be all right,” Beatrice continued. “The loneliness and pain would be ended.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her words effectively formed the image in my mind again. I took several quick steps back from the wall.
Beatrice reached out and grabbed my hand. The strength of her grip surprised me. “Be careful. The back wall is just behind you.”
I turned to see that I was only a foot away from it. My head was spinning fast now. “I…I need to get out of here.”
“Heights bother you? I had no idea,” Beatrice said as she led me to the stairs.
“Yes.” I slapped my hand against the stone wall to steady myself.
“Sit down,” Beatrice instructed, “and put your head between your knees.”
I did as she said, and after a moment the dizzy feeling subsided. When I raised my head, I found she was sitting next to me.
“I didn’t realize you were afraid of heights. If I’d realized it, I wouldn’t have brought you up here.”
She sounded worried and sincere. It was the most emotion I’d ever heard in her voice. “I thought that if I brought you here, you might remember something.”
“What would I remember? You said that the tower has been closed off for almost twenty-five years. So I could never have been up here before.”
Beatrice’s gaze became intent again as she studied me. “I thought you might recall the story. Your mother followed in the first bride, the Contessa’s footsteps. She threw herself off of the tower. That’s why your father locked the doors and forbade the ringing of the bells.”
My mind filled again with the horrible image of someone falling to the ground below. My voice sounded hoarse to me when I said, “How old was I?”
“Just a baby.” She laid her hand over mine, and without thinking, I gripped hers tightly.
For a moment, I concentrated on gathering myself. It wasn’t just the vertigo that was affecting me. I was still struggling to absorb the suspicion that had formed in my mind when I’d looked at Elizabeth McKenzie’s portrait—that I might be her biological daughter. I had to moisten my lips to ask, “Could you please tell me what you know?”
“It happened a few months after your father and mother brought you back from Europe,” Beatrice replied.
“Why?”
“Why did she do it?” Beatrice’s tone was musing now. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know for sure. Doc Carter might give you more of an insight. Elizabeth never quite recovered from her pregnancy with you. She didn’t want to have children. She had her art. She told me once that she hadn’t even wanted a husband, but she’d fallen in love with James. And my brother can be very persuasive.”
Tell me about it, I thought. Beatrice wasn’t looking at me. She was looking straight ahead at the stone walls of the tower as she continued, “She agreed to have a child for James, and he’s always blamed himself for her death.”
I thought of how the story paralleled in a way my own adoption. My mother hadn’t wanted to take a break from her medical training to carry a child. “Why didn’t they just adopt?”
The look Beatrice gave me suggested that the answer was obvious. “Your father wanted an heir, someone with McKenzie blood.” Then she slipped her hand from mine, glanced down at her watch, and rose. “It’s nearly nine-thirty. You’ll want to change for your tour with Sloan.”
I looked at my jeans. My elegant sister would probably not wear these even to ride around the ranch.
“We’ll go down slowly. I’ll lead the way, and you stay right behind me. If you get dizzy, we’ll sit and rest.”
As we descended the stairs, my mind continued to spin. But this time it was with questions. My inner Alice was now on full alert.
What had caused Elizabeth to commit suicide? And could her tragedy somehow be connected to her daughter’s disappearance?
12
THE MOMENT I ENTERED my room, I raced for my cell phone to see if Pepper had called back. But I hadn’t taken it with me—I’d barely wanted to touch it since that threatening call had come in last night. I hadn’t recharged it, either, so I held my breath as I checked to see if the battery had worn down. It hadn’t.
I sank onto the bed, and Hannibal voiced his disapproval. I turned to find him still on his self-claimed throne. He really gave added meaning to the phrase “squatter’s rights.”
“Don’t you have to eat or pee or something?”
His only reply was a bland and superior stare. And no wonder. Of course, he didn’t have to go anywhere to eat when I was providing a seemingly endless supply of cat tidbits. I rose and got him a few more from the cabinet. And I bet he had his own secret methods for exiting and entering Cameron’s room when I wasn’t there. He hadn’t moved from his position during the night—not even when I’d climbed in and stolen one of the pillows for myself.
“Look,” I said as he disposed of the cat treats. “I know this is hard for you. But we have a common goal. You want Cameron back and so do I. You might think about cooperating a bit.”
He seemed to be listening; at least he wasn’t licking his claws or hissing or making any other threatening gesture. Satisfied for the moment, I turned my attention back to the phone and saw the message light blinking. I held my breath while I retrieved it, but it was Pepper’s voice with one word. “Call.”
I punched her number into my phone, then held my breath again and prayed that she’d pick up.
She did on the second ring. “Brooke?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got an update. It looks like Austin and both Lintons were indeed in Las Vegas. At least, their credit cards were. Cole is checking it out further as we speak.”
“Marcie Linton told me that Austin had reformed.”
“As of five weeks ago, he hadn’t. He dropped close to ten thousand as far as Cole can tell. Tomorrow, Cole’s going to San Diego to check on the flower show that Beatrice was presenting at. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” I’d had a little argument with myself about just how much I was going to tell her and I’d decided on as little as possible—and certainly not about the phone call. I didn’t want her rushing out here with Cole. Not yet anyway. “But I think I may know who my mother is.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Wait.”
I could picture her grabbing her notebook, then turning to a fresh page.
“Okay, who?”
“Elizabeth McKenzie.”
“James’s second wife?” Pepper asked. I heard a little plop. Had she dropped her pencil?
“It shocked me, too. And I could be wrong. But I’ve seen her portrait and I look like her. The story they’re telling here is that Cameron was born in Switzerland. I thought at first the trip might have been made to hide the fact that Cameron was adopted. But since I saw Elizabeth’s portrait, I think the trip to Switzerland was for something else.”
“To cover up that two little girls were born and only one was brought home?”
“Maybe.” My stomach clenched. I was finding it hard to accept the fact that we were talking about me. The little girl that wasn’t brought home.
“But why?” Pepper’s tone was thoughtful and I could hear the tapping of a pencil. “I found adoption papers for both you and Cameron in the records of a private adoption agency here in the States and no clue as to the mother.”
“Which effectively stopped you from checking further,” I pointed out.
“Yes, it did.”
I heard a trace of annoyance in her voice.
“A Doctor Carter went on the trip with James and Elizabeth.”
“Hmmmmm,” Pepper said. “I’ll bet the good doctor is in this up to his ears.”
“That would be my guess. He’s a close family friend who appears to be very kind and concerned. I can’t imagine him having anything to do with Cameron’s disappearance, but I’m thinking he might have sent me the letter. And he doesn’t have an alibi for the day of Cameron’s disappearance. He claims he was home using this putting green he has in his backyard.”
“I’ll get my brother Luke to let his fingers do the walking on his computer keyboard. He’ll check out your good doctor and if there are any records anywhere, he’s the best bet we have of getting to them.”
Just talking to Pepper was settling my nerves a bit. There were answers to the questions that were whirling in my mind, and we’d get them.