Deadly Secrets by Jude Pittman Page B

sores if you try to find her.” That had been his final word. He’d given Krystal a withering glance and turned back to his work.
    Krystal had known it was hopeless but she’d tried one more question. “Do you know where she went when she left Houston?”
    Andrew’s voice had been frigid. “I have no idea where she went and furthermore, I don’t care. Nor do I want to carry this discussion any further.”
    Krystal had slammed out of the study and spent the rest of the night in her bedroom. She’d had her own agenda though and Saturday morning, as soon as they’d both left—Stella for the beauty parlor and Uncle Andrew for golf—she’d gone to the attic. There, she’d spent hours digging through old trunks and unpacking stacks of photo albums. She’d made up her mind to hire a detective and she figured there had to be a picture of her mother somewhere. There wasn’t.
    Finally, tired and sweaty, she’d pushed the last trunk back into place and started to leave. On the way out, she’d spotted a small leather suitcase tucked away in an alcove.
    It had taken her several minutes of poking and prying but she’d jimmied the lock and opened the case. More linen. Disgusted, she’d lifted a handful. A faded pink jewelry folder lay on a stack of doilies. She’d picked it up and it had crinkled in her hands. Untying the satin ribbon, she’d pulled out a long white envelope. The writing, scrawled in her grandmother’s spidery hand, had been impossible to read without her glasses. She’d tucked the envelope into her pocket, closed the suitcase and stacked it back in the alcove.
    “The captain has turned on the seatbelt sign.” The flight attendant’s voice brought Krystal back to the present and the descent into Houston.
    After she deplaned and rushed through the terminal, she strode toward the long line of taxis waiting in front of the airport. She jumped into the first in line and gave the driver her uncle’s address in River Oaks. Then she settled back in the seat and tried to concentrate on her upcoming talk with Uncle Andrew. It was hopeless. Her mind kept darting between the past and the present. When the cab swung into the drive, she still hadn’t figured out what to say.
    The cab dropped her off at the front entrance and before approaching the door, Krystal peeked through the garage window. The Jaguar was gone—Stella was off somewhere—but the BMW was there. That was a relief. Uncle Andrew would probably be up in his study. Letting herself in, she climbed the stairs to the second floor, walked noiselessly down the hall to the big corner room and knocked on the door.
    “What is it?” Andrew’s voice grumbled from within.
    Krystal turned the knob and stepped inside the room. Uncle Andrew, a small, neat man with dark, gray-streaked hair, lifted his head and fixed sharp, brown eyes on Krystal’s face.
    “I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend,” he said.
    “I wasn’t. Something’s happened and I need to talk to you.”
    “You’d better sit down.” He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. “What’s happened?”
    Krystal sat and met his unblinking gaze. He never relaxed. His dress, like his manner, remained rigid and proper. Taking a deep breath, she let the words rush out. “I hired a detective agency to find my mother.”
    Andrew’s face tightened. “I thought we went all through this business of Anna the last time you were here.”
    Krystal’s eyes flashed. “What you mean is that I begged you to tell me about my mother and father and you refused. What did you expect me to do?”
    He shook his head. His eyelids drooped, hiding his expression. When he spoke, his voice was low. “Did you get your answers?”
    She hesitated then shook her head.
    “I’m sorry.” A sigh escaped his lips. “I was only trying to spare you.”
    Krystal gripped her lip with her teeth. She wanted to scream at him, berate him for his coldness. He sat firm in his chair, his expression hard and