Until You by Sandra Marton

from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. It crossed Conor's mind that he'd never seen a woman take out a lace handkerchief except in an old movie. "Why, Miranda wouldn't even talk to me on the phone until just a year or two ago... " She began to weep, very quietly. "I'm sorry, Mr. O'Neil, but I'm afraid I'm going to ask you to leave."
    "Of course." Conor took out his wallet, pulled a card from it, reached past her and put it down on the bar. "If you think of anything more to tell me, Mrs. Winthrop, please give me a call."
    He shut the library door after him, walked to the chair where he'd left his coat and scooped it up. The FBI investigation hadn't turned up the story of Miranda's elopement but he wasn't surprised. The incident was years old; Eva had moved quickly to hush it up and she'd succeeded. Besides, the investigation had centered on Hoyt Winthrop, not on his stepdaughter.
    What did surprise him was the performance he'd just witnessed. And he was almost certain that was exactly what it had been. But why? Was there more to the story than Eva claimed?
    Was she putting on an act in hopes of keeping him from digging any further?
    He turned around slowly and stared at the portrait. The Mona Lisa was supposed to have the most mysterious smile in the world.
    Then again, the odds were damn good that whoever had come to that conclusion had never laid eyes on this painting of Miranda Beckman.

 
     
     
    Chapter 3

     
    Eva had told him the truth...
    About her husband knowing the details of Miranda's elopement, anyway. Conor's unannounced visit to Hoyt Winthrop's Wall Street firm the following day confirmed it.
    The building that housed Winthrop, Winthrop and Winthrop was one of lower Manhattan's tallest and most impressive. Hoyt's company filled the top three floors; his private office took one enormous corner of the upper two. Thanks to its size and to two walls made almost entirely of glass, walking into it was like walking into an aerie.
    Hoyt rose from behind a massive mahogany desk to greet him.
    "Mr. O'Neil," he said, rounding the desk with his hand outstretched, "it's good to see you again."
    "Thank you," Conor said politely.
    "Sit down, please." Hoyt gestured to a group of chairs clustered around a marble-topped coffee table. "Can I get you anything?"
    "Nothing, thank you." Conor sat and Hoyt settled across from him. "Mr. Winthrop, I was wondering if we could discuss your daughter."
    "Stepdaughter," Hoyt said with a little smile.
    "Yes, of course, sir. Your stepdaughter. Would you describe your relationship with her as close?"
    Hoyt sighed. "It was, when I first married her mother. Miranda was, what, six or seven, I guess." He smiled. "A beautiful little girl, Mr. O'Neil, and the sweetest child imaginable. Eva and I had our concerns, you know, that it might be difficult for her to adapt to having a stepfather—her own father had died when she was only a baby—but she took to the new arrangement like a fish to water. Why, it was only weeks before she asked if she might call me Daddy."
    "And you said...?"
    "I said it would be fine. I'd waited a bit longer than most men to marry, you see. The thought of having an instant family was most appealing."
    Conor nodded. "So, you and Miranda got along well."
    "Yes." Hoyt's aristocratic forehead wrinkled. "We did, until Miranda changed."
    "Changed, sir?"
    Hoyt rose to his feet and paced to the wall of glass that looked out over the Hudson River.
    "At first, we thought it was simply prepubescent nonsense. You know the sort of thing. Temper tantrums, disobedience... we were sure she'd grow out of it."
    Conor rose, too, and walked towards Winthrop. Far out on the river, toy boats chugged their way upstream.
    "But she didn't?"
    "If anything, her behavior got worse. She began to lie, to cheat at school. Well, they wouldn't put up with that, of course, so we took her out and placed her elsewhere. Not that it did any good. She was asked to leave that school and the one after that. And