"What do you mean?" Lindsay said.

Dunette looked uncertainly at Simmy and Lindsay. "I don't really like to say."

"Dunette, if you know something that might help, you've got to say. Don't you think it all ties together too neatly to be a coincidence?" Lindsay asked.

Dunette lowered her eyes to the table. "Don't n.o.body know this. I don't think Angel even knows. My great-great granddaddy was Donahue McQueen."

"Donahue McQueen?" The name was familiar to Lindsay, but the significance wasn't immediately apparent. She paged through one of the books in front of her. "Was he one of the Lowrie gang members?"

"No. He was the man who killed Lowrie's brother-in-law, Boss."

Lindsay found the account of the killing and quickly scanned the details. Shortly after Lowrie's disappearance, McQueen, who was half Lumbee and half Scottish, had shot Boss to collect a $2,000 bounty. Boss, who in addition to being Lowrie's brother-in-law was also his right-hand man, had been laying by the fire with his brother's family when McQueen shot him through the cat hole that'd been cut in the door. The Strongs chased McQueen away and buried Boss's body out in the swamps to try and keep him from collecting the reward, but he got the money anyway. After more than eight years as an outlaw, Boss was dead and buried before his twenty-second birthday.

"I can see why you're not too proud of that particular ancestor," Lindsay said, smiling kindly at Dunette. "But remember you're looking at somebody whose mother is currently in the penitentiary. Again. We're not them."

Dunette smiled back. "I know. But it's hard enough being a Lumbee when n.o.body understands who we are, but on top of that, I'm a half-black, black sheep Lumbee. Part of me feels like I know what it must've been like for Donahue McQueen, why he hated Henry Berry. Henry Berry came from the ultimate Lumbee family. They had more money and land than a lot of the whites, and Henry Berry married the prettiest Lumbee girl in the whole county. They were the Lumbees. But Donahue? He was just a half-caste. He tried to be white, but whites didn't want him. Then he tried to be Lumbee, and they didn't want him either because he'd always acted like he was too good for them." She sighed. "When you're mixed race, things can get confusing."

"Like the woman who converted to Mexican," Lindsay said, remembering the earlier conversation she'd had with Angel about Lumbee ident.i.ty.

"You know Sheila Locklear?" Dunette asked, looking at Lindsay out of the corners of her eyes.

"No, sorry. I was just thinking of something Angel said. Anyway, do you know what happened to McQueen after he collected the bounty?" Lindsay asked.

"He left the county. Had to. Went out West for awhile, and then up North and got married. Eventually, I guess karma caught up with him because he got shot coming out of his house one day. His grandson, my mother's father, moved back to Lumberton when he was grown. He was the one who told me the truth about our family. My father was an Oxendine, you see-a real Lum-so he didn't like anybody to know that he'd married Donahue McQueen's great granddaughter. To tell the truth, I'm not sure his parents would've let him go ahead with the marriage if they knew. Lumbees have long memories. My granddaddy told me anyway, though. He thought it was important to always be honest about things, because a secret like that will eat you up inside."

"I wish my family had been a bit more open about our family tree," Lindsay said ruefully, thinking about the events of the previous December. The secrets that Simmy and her Aunt Harding had kept had almost destroyed them all.

"I sometimes wish I didn't know the truth," Dunette said. "Sometimes I think it was too big a burden to know that one of my relatives was a murderer."

"What's past is past," Simmy said. She had been drumming her fingers impatiently on the tabletop while Lindsay and Dunette spoke, and now she rose from the table. "I don't see why y'all are so interested in dredging all this up anyway. Let sleeping dogs lie, I say. Especially when the sleeping dogs are dead, and they're gonna give you tons of money." She grabbed her cane with one hand and a bottle of wine with the other. "I'm going to bed," she announced.

"It's not even eight o'clock," Lindsay said. "And you haven't had dinner."

Simmy held up the wine bottle. "Dinner's right here. Good night."

Once they'd heard the door to Simmy's room close, Lindsay turned to Dunette. "I wonder if the thing I said about family secrets upset her. I wasn't blaming her."

"No, she's been like that all day," Dunette said. "That's why I took her out on all those errands this afternoon. I could tell she was fretting, and Mike was making it worse. He's a good man, but he's always so wound up. It's like having a big puppy around. Anyway, Simmy puts up a good front, but I think this thing with you almost getting hurt by that man has set her on edge. She wants you to live your life to the fullest. She doesn't want you to have to be afraid, so she doesn't want to show that she's worried. Half the time, I believe she thinks she's living here to watch over you rather than vice versa."

"Really?" Lindsay said. She realized she'd been so wrapped up in her own fear of being harmed that she hadn't thought at all about how her experience might've affected Simmy or anyone else.

Dunette nodded. "Sugar, underneath all her big talk, she's as soft as an old featherbed, and she really cares about you. I guess that's always how it is with the ones we love. We want them to live big and take chances, but we don't want them to fail or get hurt. So we spend all our time worrying over 'em." Dunette swatted her hand dismissively. "That's people for you. We're as dumb as mules."

"She should eat something," Lindsay said, rising from her chair.

"You sit down. I'll fix her some cheese and crackers on a plate."

As Dunette prepared Simmy's snack, Lindsay chewed her thumbnail thoughtfully.

"The story about Boss Strong and Donahue McQueen also has a hidden body, and I suppose the bounty could be considered stolen money? And the Burnt Island thing would still apply," Lindsay said. "Maybe it's that. Maybe it's Boss's story."

"But why would that make Boughtflower want to give me the money? Like I said, you'd think I'd be the very last person on the list."

"Good point," Lindsay agreed. "And you know what else I still don't get? Boughtflower said stealing the money caused 'everything that happened afterwards' to his family. He said it like they were cursed or something. But as far as I can tell, his life was pretty good. I mean, he'd had a successful business, sold it at a profit, lived in a mansion. His daughter and granddaughter, at least, seemed pretty devoted to him. What was so bad?"

Dunette shrugged. "Money can't buy happiness."

Dunette finished preparing Simmy's snack as Lindsay scribbled on a blank piece of paper, reading aloud as she listed all the important information she could think of: Boughtflower believed his fortune came to him dishonestly and was cursed He felt guilty about hiding a body and stealing money. He wanted to give it back to "Burnt Island people"

He attended the KKK rally at Hayes Pond in 1958 He said someone else was helping execute his dying wishes He had his secretary (an Irish woman) seek out Dunette He gave Jess power of attorney and charged her with selling his house and liquidating his a.s.sets Jess hid her actions from her parents Jess has an unusual interest in astronomy and math He left his fortune to Dunette to rectify some past wrong He left Jess a key and a star map in his will Next to these, she listed the questions she still had and the potential answers: Whose body was hidden? Lowrie? Boss Strong? Somebody else?

What is the stolen money? The $30K? Something else?

Why Dunette?

What is Jess hiding?

Who was helping Boughtflower execute his wishes? Jess? The Irish secretary? Someone else?

Is it coincidence that all of this is going on at the same time as the stuff with Adam???

Dunette leaned over Lindsay's shoulder to look at the list. "You think Jess is up to something? And that there's a connection between all this and what happened with Adam Tyrell?" she asked.

"I don't know. I'm just trying to get my head around everything that's been going on. There are so many pieces, and I don't even know the puzzle I'm trying to solve. With the Boughtflower stuff, we don't really even know if a crime has been committed, or if this whole thing with the will and the money is all just down to a bitter old man's whims."

"I don't like this," Dunette said. "I'd feel better if you'd let the police do their thing and the lawyers do theirs. You're like Kipper with that pair of Simmy's slippers with the bows on them. He just can't leave them in the closet where they belong."

Lindsay sighed. "I wish I could let this go. Believe me. But I can't help it. Until it gets figured out, my mind just won't drop it."

Dunette shook her head and stepped along to Simmy's room to try and convince her to eat something.

Lindsay had just turned the piece of paper over to begin making notes on the other side when her cell phone rang. She didn't recognize the number but answered anyway, thinking it might be some update from the police on the search for Adam Tyrell.

"h.e.l.lo?" she said.

"Lindsay?"

She recognized the voice instantly. It was Adam Tyrell himself. She was so startled that she nearly threw the phone onto the floor.

As if reading her mind, he said. "Please, don't hang up. I know what you must be thinking, but the police have got it wrong. Please, hear me out. I need your help. I think Jess is in trouble."

Lindsay said nothing. She couldn't. She was too stunned to speak. Her mind raced. She thought about calling out to Dunette and Simmy, but what could they do? Even if they were able to summon the police while she kept Adam on the line, she knew there'd be no way they could set up a trace on her cell phone line quickly enough. The New Albany police would have to put in a call to a State or Federal agency with more sophisticated capabilities, which would then have to try to pick up the signal. All of that would take time, hours perhaps. It had never occurred to any of them to set up a trace for calls coming in on her phone. They had no reason to think Adam would call her. She glanced at the Caller ID screen and, with a shaking hand, jotted down the phone number he was calling from, not quite trusting the automated call log on her phone to save it. At least the police could track down the call information after the fact. If he was using a cell phone, perhaps they could triangulate his location based on the cell phone towers the call bounced off of.

"Lindsay? Are you still there?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice sounding hoa.r.s.e.

"Listen," he said, speaking quickly, slightly out of breath. "Boughtflower tried to tell you about me before he died. You know how he said someone was working with him, helping him? That was me. He hired me about a year ago to track down Dunette and make sure she got his money. He had a secretary, too, helping him-a woman from County Mayo in Ireland. Her name was Ellen, but I'm sure that was a pseudonym. I found out that she'd been skimming off money from Boughtflower almost the whole time she worked for him. When I showed him the proof, he fired her. I thought she went back home, but I think she's back. I think she's trying to kidnap Jess."

"What?" Lindsay said. Her mind suddenly shot to Jess's strange "casting agent meeting" in Raleigh. "Why would she want to kidnap Jess?"

"There was something else of value that Boughtflower entrusted Jess with getting to Dunette. Jess was waiting until the stars were aligned so she could get it and hand it over."

"What is it?" Lindsay asked.

"I don't know. All I know is that it's worth a lot, and that it's something tangible. It's hidden somewhere down in Robeson County. Boughtflower said it was marked with a cross."

"What, like X marks the spot? Like pirate treasure?" Lindsay said dubiously.

"That's all I know," Adam replied.

"Why should I trust you? You still haven't explained why you were spying on me. If your job was to find Dunette, why were you still around after she was hired? And why did you drug me?"

"I'm not the one who drugged you, and I wasn't spying on you," Adam said with a weary sigh. "I was trying to protect Dunette. I dressed up as Doer because I needed a way to search your house and check you out. The way you hired her so suddenly, right after Boughtflower let her go and right after you just happened to come into his room. Well, it seemed suspicious."

"You were suspicious of a chaplain visiting a patient in the hospital?" Lindsay asked incredulously.

"Being suspicious is my job."

"Wait," Lindsay said, thinking she'd picked up on a further hole in his story. "How did you even know I'd hired Dunette? Doer showed up at my place the same day as Simmy and I met with her."

"I was following her, okay? And then when I saw you meeting, I got suspicious. Can't you see how that might look a little weird to an outsider?"

"Well, if you rifled through all my stuff and stalked me, presumably you were able to discover that I'm not some kind of criminal mastermind who got a Masters in Divinity, another degree in counseling, and then spent four years working in hospitals just to worm my way into Otis Boughtflower's will."

"You really are funny," Adam said.

"Shut up," Lindsay snapped. "Why didn't you stop messing with me once you knew I was kosher? Why stick around after he died?"

"Boughtflower paid me to see that his wishes were carried out. That job doesn't end until the money is in Dunette's hands."

"What about drugging me? If you didn't do it, who did?" Lindsay demanded. Although she was trying her best to project an aura of skepticism, she had to admit that she was starting to be convinced. She'd always felt that there was far more going on than met the eye, and his story seemed to clear up many of the mysteries she'd been laying out to Dunette just moments before.

"I don't know. That's what worries me. I thought one of the Philpots might be working with Ellen. That might've made sense since they all wanted to get their hands on the money."

"Not Jess," Lindsay observed.

"Exactly. If she wanted the money, she could've abused her power of attorney and just taken it."

"So you think it could've been Yancy or Margo?" Lindsay asked.

"Like I said, I don't know. I can't think that either of them would be involved in kidnapping their own daughter. So, if they were in league with Ellen before, they might not be anymore," Adam said. "I've got to go."

"Wait, I need to know something else. Why did you pick Weaponless Doer as a name? Why that name?"

"I'm sorry about that. I guess I was trying to be clever. I'd done a lot of research on you, and was fascinated by the whole Leander Swoopes thing. That was really stupid."

At Adam's admission, Lindsay felt a strange lightness. If what he said was true, then the events of the past few weeks really didn't have any connection with Leander Swoopes. There was still much to fear for Owen and Jess, but that fear-that deep bone-chilling fear that had almost overwhelmed her-could be put aside. She could almost feel the focus of her energy shift from trying to protect herself to looking out once again to the world beyond herself.

Adam had stopped talking, and Lindsay heard what sounded like m.u.f.fled voices in the background. "Look, Lindsay, I've really got to go. I just needed you to know the truth. Try to help Jess if you can. I'll do what I can, too, but it's more difficult now that I've had to go underground."

"If what you say about Ellen is true, why didn't you tell the police instead of telling me? Jess could be in real trouble," Lindsay said. But when her question was greeted by silence, she realized she was already talking to dead air.

Chapter 21.

"Then I asked him why he called me instead of the police," Lindsay said.

Two hours had pa.s.sed since her call with Adam ended. She was sitting in her favorite chair in her living room, and Warren and Freeland Vickers were both on the couch, taking rapid notes. No one could reach Jess or Owen, and with each pa.s.sing minute, fears for their safety grew. Lindsay had left Simmy and Dunette in her kitchen, trying to soothe Mike's nerves as he waited anxiously to hear from his son.

"What did Adam say?" Warren asked. His face was haggard, his expression strained. He looked like he'd aged at least a decade since the last time Lindsay had seen him at the hospital a few days before.

"Nothing," Lindsay answered. "He'd already hung up."

As soon as Lindsay had hung up with Adam an hour earlier, she'd called the police to relay the contents of their conversation. Her next call had been to Mike, who had been at the Mex-Itali with Anna and Drew. When she pa.s.sed on Adam's warning about Jess, Mike had immediately placed a call to Owen to find out if he was with her. Mike had been calling and texting his son every 10 minutes ever since then, but hadn't had an answer. It was now almost 11 p.m. The last time anyone could account for Owen's whereabouts was almost three hours before, when his coach said he'd left the high school after his basketball game. He'd texted his father to say he was on his way to Raleigh to pick up Jess, and that he'd be home later. Warren told Lindsay that Jess's parents, too, had been unable to reach their daughter.

"You don't have any idea why Adam would call you instead of the police?" Warren asked.

"No. All I can think is that he was afraid he'd be found if he called y'all. Obviously, he's gone through a lot of trouble to hide." Lindsay paused. "Do you think he could be telling the truth?"

Warren studied her expression. "Do you?"

Lindsay frowned. Her interactions with Adam played through her mind like a highlights reel. His dazzling smile. Those twinkling, cinnamon-colored eyes. The seductive smell of his skin. She swept those images aside and turned her focus inward. Leaving aside his flirtation and good looks, what did she really know about Adam? What did she really believe? At last, she answered. "I wish I knew. All I can say for sure is that I wanted to believe him, but something seemed...off. This is weird to say, but he reminded me of Sarabelle."

"What about her?" Warren asked. "Something good or something bad?"

"You mean the manipulative con artist side of her or the charming persuasive side?" Lindsay said. "I can't put my finger on it. It's just that when I think of him, I think of Sarabelle."

Vickers' phone rang. "Sorry, honey," he said to Lindsay. "Gotta take this. I'll be right back."

Lindsay watched Vickers as he shuffled into the hallway, and then she turned back to Warren. "Have you been able to turn up anything else about Adam?"

"Mostly just what Prendergast told you on the phone last time he gave you an update. For now, the FBI is helping us because of the potential Leander Swoopes link, and they've put us in touch with the authorities in Bratislava and Berlin, but if he was living there, he was going by a different name than any of the aliases we know. He entered the U.S. from Paris a few months ago on his Terry Addison pa.s.sport, so he definitely was in Europe. We just don't know where, or for how long. The website entry for his security consultancy was only put up within the past few months. One thing we were looking at was the source of the Rohypnol he used, or we thought he used, to drug you. It's prescribed legally in a lot of Western European countries, so it would've been pretty easy for him to come by over there. But if what he told you is true, then that might be a dead end."

"What about Yancy Philpot? He works at Kroger, right? Maybe he has access to the pharmacy there," Lindsay speculated.

"I've already looked into that," Warren replied. "They don't stock that drug, and even if they did, that place is locked down tighter than a prison ward."

The words "prison ward" chimed like a bell in Lindsay's head. "Oh my G.o.d," she whispered. "Lydia Sikes's son." The connection between Adam and Sarabelle suddenly seemed to come into clearer focus.

"What?" Warren said.

"Nothing. Well, something. I don't know." Lindsay rose from her chair and began to pace. "This doesn't make any sense, but can you see what you can find out about Lydia Sikes's son? I don't think I mentioned it to you, but Lydia's son, Christopher, wrote to Sarabelle in prison a few weeks ago."