managed to ask him what, if anything, he’d found out, when he turned off the main road onto a farm lane.
The car hit a pothole, and he winced. “Sorry. Guess I should have made you ride in the pickup. The milk tankers really tear up this road.”
Amanda glanced across a cornfield, stalks yellow and ready for cutting, to a tidy white farmhouse. “No power lines,” she commented. “I assume it’s Amish?”
He nodded. “How did a Boston vet become able to identify an Amish farm at a glance?”
“My graduate degree is from the University of Pennsylvania. A lot of their large animal work is carried out in the Lancaster County area. And I had a practice there for a time.”
“So you know enough not to gawk when you see a bonnet, or try to take a photograph of an Amish person?”
“At least that much,” she said gravely. “Look, shall we stop evading the point and get to it? Did you find out anything?”
“I’m not sure how much...” The car hit a rut, and he broke off abruptly. “How about I concentrate on getting us there without ruining my shocks? Then I’ll tell you what I’ve been able to find out so far.”
“Fair enough.” She gripped the armrest. “Are the falls on private land?”
“No, but this is the shortest access to the bottom of the falls, and Eli never minds folks driving up his lane as long as they don’t make a mess. You can take a township road to the state lands, but it’s out of the way.”
She subsided, letting him concentrate on the road, if she could dignify it by calling it that. She had been so taken up with her own problems the previous day that she hadn’t really noticed him. Now she had time for a closer look.
Not bad. Nice, even features in a strong face, brown hair with just a hint of bronze when the light hit it, a pair of level brows and a strong, stubborn jaw. He was in is early thirties, and she wondered what he found to do for fun in a town like Echo Falls.
Of course, he could be married with a couple of kids, but she didn’t think so. She hadn’t seen any family photos or childish artwork in his office, and he didn’t wear a ring.
Not that it mattered in the least what his marital status was, she assured herself.
“There are a few hunting cabins out that way.” He waved a hand toward a road that cut off around the curve of the hillside. “When the state took over the falls, they didn’t buy up much of the surrounding land. Probably thinking the less accessible it was, the better.”
He reached a slightly wider place in the road and pulled to the side, turning off the ignition. Ahead of them, the road seemed to peter out to a mere track. “We’ll park here and go the rest of the way on foot. You don’t mind a walk in the woods, do you?”
“No, and Barney will enjoy it.” She got out and opened the back door for Barney to jump down from the seat. He stood for a moment, nose raised to the unfamiliar scents.
“This way.”
Trey slung on a small backpack and gestured to a path. No sign. As he’d said, the state didn’t care to make it easy for tourists.
They headed along a path that slanted slightly upward. Barney, happy to be released, scampered along, dodging from one side of the trail to the other to explore.
Trey eyed him. “He’s not going to run off chasing a deer, is he?”
“I won’t say he wouldn’t be tempted, but he’s well trained.” She smiled. “Although he was actually a dropout from a service dog organization I’m involved with.”
“What did he do? Flunk his final?” Trey gave her a quizzical look.
“Not exactly. He could master the techniques, all right, but he didn’t have that extra edge of concentration and empathy that’s needed for a service dog. So he came home with me, and we’re both happy.”
“Your mother was a dog person, then?”
“Let’s say she and Barney tolerated each other. He’s a good watchdog, though. Did I tell you about the burglar he thwarted?”
“No.” He frowned. “Was this recently?”
“Within the last couple of weeks.” It seemed longer, given all that had happened since then. “The police seemed to think it was just a random act.”
He must have caught the hesitation in her voice. “You didn’t agree?”
“Whoever he was, he came in through the window in the den. There were some expensive electronics there, but the only thing disturbed was the painting of Echo Falls. I found that odd.” She shrugged. “He may have been interrupted by Barney before he could get any farther, but still, it was strange that he’d go for the painting first.”
Trey, slightly ahead of her on the trail, glanced back to study her face. “Could it have been someone who knew the value of a Juliet Curtiss painting? Maybe the artwork was the goal all along.”
“Possibly. That was my first thought, but it seems strange that someone as sophisticated as an art thief wouldn’t have taken the elementary precaution of finding out that there was a guard dog. It looked as if he went back out the window faster than he’d come in.”
Trey looked at Barney with what seemed increased respect. “A good thing Barney was on the job. So the painting was the only thing disturbed. Damaged?”
“No, but the frame was broken. That’s how I found the inscription on it.” She could hear her own voice flatten at the reminder of why she was here. This wasn’t just a pleasant walk in the woods with an attractive guy. “The wording had been placed so that no one would have noticed it unless the painting was out of the frame.”
“Right.” He seemed to recognize that it was time to talk. The path widened out, the ground becoming more level, and they were able to walk side by side. “Like I said I would, I spoke to my father. He was able to identify a death that is likely the one your mother memorialized. A young woman named Melanie Winthrop.”
“M,” Amanda said, her heart pumping a little faster. “Who was she? How did she die?”
Trey frowned, giving her the impression that he was reluctant to talk about it. “You have to understand first that the Winthrop family is a big deal in Echo Falls. Owners of the mill, town founders, with a finger in just about every pie there is here.”
“Bad things hit rich families, too,” she said, impatient to get on with it. She was on the point of possibly learning the truth about her mother, and he wanted to chat about town history. Didn’t he understand that her stomach was roiling with emotions even she couldn’t sort out?
“True enough,” he said. “But that wasn’t quite my point. The matriarch, Elizabeth Winthrop...well, to hear people tell it, she rules the family. Has done for years. Melanie would have been the daughter of her only son, who died in a plane crash along with his wife, leaving Melanie to be raised by her grandmother, her aunt and uncle.”
She wasn’t particularly interested in all this family detail, not now. “How did Melanie die?”
“According
