Vanish in Plain Sight

And Link had known him too long not to see beyond the mask. Adam wanted something, presumably from Marisa, and it was something he felt reluctant to ask.

“You asked me to come by,” Marisa said. “There must be a reason.”

“Out with it,” Link said. “What’s going on?”

Adam shot him a glance that told him to shut up. “Ms. Angelo, would you be willing to take a DNA test? Just as a matter of routine. It—”

Marisa had gone dead white. Link couldn’t help himself. He was beside her before he realized he’d moved, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve found a body?” Marisa’s voice rose.

“No, nothing like that. It would simply be a help…” Adam let that die off, probably because both of them stared at him with disbelief.

“Come on, Adam. Level with us. Why do you want a DNA sample from Marisa?” He tightened his grasp on her shoulder, feeling the bones beneath the skin, and he felt a surge of protectiveness.

She didn’t pull away, maybe because she was too shaken.

Adam lifted his hands in a gesture of resignation. “You know those dark splotches on the suitcase? They were blood.”

Marisa’s hand closed over Link’s, gripping almost painfully. “My mother died. Is that what you think?”

Link’s mind raced. Blood on the suitcase, so naturally Adam assumed it was Barbara’s. The suitcase hidden in the wall of Uncle Allen’s house. It was impossible to escape a link.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Adam said. “If you remember what the stains looked like, they were relatively small patches. Certainly not enough to warrant an assumption that there was a fatal wound.”

“Are you treating it as a murder case?” Link’s voice sounded harsh to his ears. How would his mother cope with this, murder coming close to her family after all that had happened this year?

“Not at this time.” Adam’s face was his official one. “The lab says this amount could have come from a cut finger or a nosebleed. For all we know, the stains might even have been there for months or years before the suitcase was hidden. That’s why it would be helpful to have Ms. Angelo’s DNA for comparison.”

“Will that be enough to be sure?”

Adam shrugged. “According to the lab, they’ll be able to tell with a reasonable degree of certainty if the blood wasn’t her mother’s, and a fair degree if it was. So, if Marisa agrees…?”

“Yes. Of course.” She seemed to be gathering her composure around her. “Where and when?”

“Lancaster General’s lab will do it. They’ve al ready been notified, so just walk in and give them your name.”

Marisa had regained some of her color, but strain still seemed to draw the skin tight against the bones. “I’ll go now if you can give me directions.”

“No need for that.” Link heard his own voice speak without conscious volition. “I’ll take you there.”

BY THE TIME THEY’D reached the edge of Springville, Marisa felt herself beginning to thaw. It was as if the word blood, coming from Chief Byler’s lips, had flash-frozen her.

So much so that she hadn’t objected when Link Morgan steered her toward his car, but maybe that had been the best thing that she could have done.

There were far too many questions that, as yet, the Morgan family hadn’t answered. Each time the conversation had swerved in the direction of that house and its owner with Geneva Morgan, one of her sons had managed to divert it. And as for Link Morgan…

She stole a sideways glance at him. Lean, strong hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly, and he frowned at the road ahead. Link had avoided telling her anything more than what she might have learned from the police chief.

But surely he knew more. The man who owned the house had been his uncle. And Link had apparently been the favored nephew, since he’d inherited. There had to be things he could tell her, even if he wasn’t old enough to remember her mother.

And after only twenty-four hours here, she’d begun to realize that the Morgan family loomed large in the power structure of this area. How hard would Adam Byler, obviously an old friend of the family, press them?

Well, no matter how big a deal the Morgans were, they weren’t above suspicion as far as she was concerned.

She felt, rather than saw, Link focus on her face.

“Are you all right?” He asked the question almost grudgingly, as if he already regretted the impulse that had led him to offer to drive her.

He’d regret it even more if he knew how she expected to make use of this time.

“I’m all right. The idea of blood…” She let that trail off, not bothering to suppress the quaver in her voice. If Link thought her bowled over by this, so much the better. It might make him more talkative.

“Adam did say the amount was small.” He ran one palm restlessly along the steering wheel. “It could have nothing to do with…well, with your mother’s disappearance. It might not even be hers.”

“I suppose they’ll know that much from the DNA test. It seems to me I remember reading that the testing is more definitive when it’s the female side of the family.”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t prove it by me, I’m afraid. That subject didn’t come up in the course of illustrating children’s books, did it?”

“I’ve looked into some odd things, but not that. That article on DNA was just random reading. I was the kind of kid who’d read the backs of cereal boxes if there was nothing else around.”

“Not me. Always outside, running wild, my mother used to say.” He gestured, the movement seeming to take in the patchwork quilt of cultivated farms and woodlots on either side of the road. “This was a good place to grow up for that.”

“I guess it would have been. I don’t remember much about Springville, or about the people we knew here. If my mother worked for your uncle, I suppose I might have met him.”

That was a tactful way to bring Allen Morgan into the conversation, wasn’t it?

“Could be.” Link glanced in the side mirror as he merged onto a four-lane road. “Your mother might have taken you along with her to work, I guess.” He spoke off-handedly, concentrating more on the traffic than the question.

“What was he like?”

“Allen?” Now he glanced at her, his attention sharpening. “Why do you want to know?”

She tensed at the direct attack. So much for being subtle. “It’s natural enough, isn’t it? Your uncle was my mother’s employer. Her suitcase was hidden in the wall of his house.”

He stared at the road again, lips tight, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. “The suit case being there might have nothing to do with my uncle.”

“Really?” She let disbelief show in her voice. “How do you explain it, then?”

He yanked the wheel a bit harder than was war ranted to exit at the sign for the hospital. “If your mother was working for him at the time the room was being built, she could have put suitcase there herself.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Say the stories were right, and she planned to leave. She could have brought the suitcase with her to work, slid it into the unfinished wall so no one would see it and ask questions.”

Much as she hated to admit it, his suggestion made a certain amount of sense. But…

“Then why was it still there? If she planned to run away from your uncle’s house, why wouldn’t she take the suitcase with her?”