Her mother. Missing. Vanished as if she’d never existed at all.
Emotion welled in Lindsey’s throat. She had to get Alessandro’s son out of her office—out of her sight. “Please leave. I’ve turned the matter over to the police.”
He stood his ground, unflinching. Determination flashed in his piercing glare, as if he saw right through her brave facade. “Don’t you make a living helping people discover the truth?”
Lindsey’s gaze locked with his. Two could play this game. “I do. But my services aren’t needed in a case like this. We already know the truth.”
A shadow passed across Matt Alessandro’s face. A flicker of sympathy teased at her heart, but she shoved it away. He might have lost his father, but murderers deserved whatever they got—and his father had been a cold-blooded killer.
He stepped closer, now seriously invading her personal space. She pushed the chair back with her knees and stood, surprised to discover he stood a full half head taller than her five feet eight inches.
“I find it difficult to believe someone with your reputation for sniffing out the facts would believe your late-night delivery means nothing.”
Lindsey shrugged, hoping the move belied the doubt simmering in her gut. “Maybe it’s someone’s sick idea of a joke. Maybe someone who knew your father in jail decided to drop off one of his souvenirs.”
Matt winced, but quickly recovered, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
She continued. “The police are all the help I need in the matter, Mr. Alessandro. Thanks for stopping by.”
She turned her back, concentrating on shuffling the folders on her credenza.
“Then I’d like to hire your firm.”
Lindsey breathed in sharply. The man could not take a hint. She turned on her heel, leveling a look that had chased off many unwanted clients—and men—before him. “I’m not interested in your business. Thank you.”
Her clipped tone wavered, and she mentally berated herself. She had no desire to let the man see he’d rattled her.
Alessandro pulled a business card from the inside pocket of his tweed sport coat. He pressed the card to her desk, not allowing her the option of refusing.
“When you’re ready to talk, give me a call. I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to question who sent you that copy. I’m also sure deep down you question the convenience of my father’s stabbing.”
His intense stare bore through every defensive wall she’d erected. Lindsey flattened one hand against the back of her chair to steady herself.
“The real killer’s still out there, Ms. Tarlington. I’d think you’d be more than a little concerned about that.”
She stood her ground as he spun on his heel, crossed the small office, and pushed open the exit door. When he had safely gone, she conceded to the trembling in her knees, sinking onto the worn leather seat of her chair.
Lindsey tentatively touched the edge of his card, dragging it to the center of her desk.
Matt Alessandro.
She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed a hand across her weary face. As if the copy of her mother’s identification hadn’t been enough, now the killer’s son had reached out.
She gathered the case files from the desktop and shoved them into her briefcase. She plucked Alessandro’s card from where it lay then dropped it into her trash can.
Snapping off her desk lamp, she steeled herself, wanting nothing to do with the man’s soapy scent still lingering in her small cubicle.
“Patty.” Lindsey paused at the office manager’s desk as she headed toward the door. “I’m going out. You can reach me on my cell if anyone needs me.”
Lindsey cast a glance toward her two partners, heads bent low over their own case files, working the phones. She should be doing the same, but right now she needed to put space between herself, Matt Alessandro’s visit and her memories. The more space, the better.
She pushed out into the fresh, spring air, shoving the lingering guilt from her mind.
Ten minutes later she turned her car onto the tree-lined street, sighing with relief as her family home eased into view. The cherry blossoms displayed their full blooms, and the heavy buds on her favorite, old dogwood hinted at additional flowering beauty to come.
Lindsey breathed deeply of the sweet air filtering through her lowered car window. Spring in South Jersey. This had been her favorite time of year as a child, but on that April night years before, her world had tilted on its axis and never quite righted itself. In time, she’d learned to welcome the warmer days, but she never got over the irrational dread that accompanied the change of season each year.
A lone figure walked down her center sidewalk and away from the house as she eased her Volkswagen into the drive. Lindsey’s stomach tightened. She slammed the car into Park and scrambled from her driver’s seat. “Can I help you?”
Her voice rang out surely, in direct opposition to the rapid beating of her heart. What was he doing? Could it be the man who’d left the envelope?
The figure tensed then waved, keeping his head low as he turned away from her. Close-cropped silver hair hugged the lower half of his skull, as if his baldness hadn’t quite yet won the battle. His shoulders remained hunched, the result of either years of poor posture or the ravages of time.
Loose papers fluttered in his hand as he continued down the block, turning up the next-door neighbor’s front walk.
A harmless, elderly man passing out flyers.
Embarrassment and relief flooded through Lindsey. She couldn’t take any more excitement today. Thank goodness her case count was low right now. The agency had been hired to find a few birth parents and one long-lost heir. Nothing more. Surely she could clear her head enough to manage that.
She plucked her briefcase from the floor behind her seat then slammed the car door. A sheet of paper sat tucked in the screen door handle, catching her eye as she crossed the front yard. She yanked it free, letting her gaze drop to the simple wording touting affordable lawn care. Glancing around at her overgrown garden and shrubs, she could understand why he’d picked her house.
She folded the flyer in half and slipped it into her briefcase. Professional help wasn’t such a bad idea, actually. Her mother had always loved working in the garden. Somehow, Lindsey could never quite muster the same enthusiasm.
She jammed the key in the lock, twisting the doorknob open. A small white envelope sat wedged against the door frame. She pushed the inner door open, yet her feet remained glued in place, her eyes locked on the mysterious object. Her pulse kicked up a notch.
Maybe it was from someone else—someone other than whoever had left the copy last night. She squatted, reaching for the envelope. Heavier than last night’s, it appeared to be similar, a plain number ten, this one unsealed.
Lindsey stood, easing the flap of the envelope open by the edge, doing her best not to leave her own prints. Gold glimmered inside the envelope. A ring, delicate and old, small gems set in the shape of a heart. She flashed on an image of a family picnic, sitting holding hands with her mother, lovingly touching the heirloom ruby ring.
This ring.
Lindsey’s heart squeezed. Someone knew. Somewhere out there, someone knew exactly what had happened to her mother and was reaching out. Perhaps that same someone knew where her body had been dumped.
Matt Alessandro had been correct. Lindsey had spent her entire adult life wondering why her mother had been murdered. The trial had yielded nothing but professions of innocence from Matt’s father, even though the jury had found him guilty.
Lindsey