Lara’s parents’ house seemed to shrink. She had to get out of there but even going home wouldn’t ease her disappointment at what she’d learned. How could her mother look at her, frown, then tell her dad that Lara’s uncle had ruined her mom’s life? If only she understood what role Uncle Jack played. The only way to find out would be to speak with him. The fact he’d walked out of their lives so many years ago certainly hadn’t helped.

Right now, only work would calm her turbulent thoughts. Without stopping to change, she drove straight to the lab. She signed in but didn’t make small talk with the guard at the desk like she often did. In fact, she didn’t want to speak with anyone, not even her mentor, Sam. Randall Johnson’s X-rays and lab tests would top her list of must-dos. Despite the fact she’d met the man, she still believed he was her second skeleton. People lied about their identity, and she planned to prove the man wasn’t telling the truth.

She became so engrossed in work that she’d forgotten to eat. After several hours, she sat back and stretched. Even with a full afternoon of work, she wasn’t any closer to figuring out where she’d gone wrong with the Randall Johnson identification.

It was time to hit the snack room. She bought a bag of donuts and a Coke, hoping the sugar fix would put her in a better frame of mind. The nagging conversation between her parents kept beating the back of her skull, but she’d been able to work despite the depression that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

On her way upstairs to her lab, she decided a new set of eyes would help her figure out the dilemma. Sam was busy with the Winnebago fire victims. The only other person’s opinion she respected more than his was her senior thesis professor, Dr. Rolf Hoffman. She called his office.

“Of course you can stop by, Lara. I’d be happy to take a look at what you have.”

She gathered her X-rays and photos and let Phil know where she was going. Given it was a bright sunny day with thousands of students roaming about campus, she walked over to the Sociology building, but the pain from her mother’s hateful words took away the joy of the nice day.

Dr. Hoffman smiled and stood as she entered his small office. “You’re looking well.”

She knew a lie when she heard it. The circles under her eyes were misty gray at best. “Thanks.”

He spent more than a half hour pouring over her information. “You’ve done a very thorough job here.”

A lot of good it did her. “You would have concluded this was Randall Johnson too?” she asked.

“Absolutely, but you said the man’s alive?”

“Yes.”

Hoffman closed the file. “I don’t know how else I can help you.”

“Other than asking this person for his DNA, I’m at a stone wall.”

He shrugged. “Yes. I wish I could be of more help.” Dr. Hoffman straightened his bow tie.

She guessed that was her cue to leave. As Lara stood, she inadvertently knocked off a couple of four by six postcards from the stack on his desk. “I’m so sorry.” She picked up those on the floor and placed them back on the pile, reading the top line. “Oh, wow. The Tampa Museum is having a showing this Friday night on Native Americans.”

“Take one, Lara.”

She read the details. The name Robert Hoffman was printed in bold red print. “Your brother is having an exhibit? I thought he was a mortician.”

“He now fancies himself an artist.” From his puckered lips, she guessed her professor didn’t approve of his brother’s new interest.

Dr. Hoffman rapped his pencil on the desk. “Personally, I think he should stick to fixing dead bodies.”

Clearly the topic disturbed him. “Are you going to the opening?”

His lips pursed and his brows rose. “I don’t have a choice. My brother would be very disappointed if I didn’t. The museum is displaying a lot of other artists too. Many are Native Americans.” He tugged on his cuffs. “For that, the visit might be worth the trip.”

She picked up the card, stored it in her folder and said her goodbyes.

On the walk back to the lab she decided to call Trevor to see if he’d heard anything about Ethan today. Their last conversation had been strained, but she cared about his brother, and she cared about Trevor.

After checking over her shoulder to see no one was following her, she dialed his number. Even though Bernie was in jail, these last few weeks had taught her to be careful.

“Kinsey.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “It’s Lara.” She held her breath, wondering how he’d react.

“Something wrong?”

Always the protector. She wished she could tell if he sounded scared, concerned, or indifferent. “No. Have you heard anything about Ethan?”

“Not yet.”

Darn. “I’m sure something will come up.” Lame comment. “I just found out there is a new exhibit opening at the Tampa Museum on Native Americans Friday night. My professor’s brother is exhibiting. You’ve met him. He was the one who handled my parents’ funeral.”

“The director. Yes.”

She inhaled, revving up her up courage to ask him out. She shouldn’t be nervous given what they’d shared, but she was. “I thought perhaps you’d like to come with me to see the show. It might be good for you get away for a few hours.” She fisted her hands, wondering how he’d react to being asked out on a date.

No response. “Trevor?”

“Sorry, I was distracted. Sure. What time?”

Her stomach fluttered. “Seven?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Great.”

Lara’s heavy heart lightened for a moment. She was going to see Trevor again.

Close to six thirty, Lara had yet to figure out what she was going to wear. She’d tried on three different dresses before she chose the plain black dress that hugged her figure.

Her cell rang at quarter to seven. It was Trevor. Tingles tripped along her spine. “Hi.”

“Lara, I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“I hate to do this, but I have to cancel. Something came up.”

Her shoulders bowed. Was he contrite? Or merely blowing her off? “Is it about Ethan?”

“Yes, I need to follow a lead.”

“I didn’t think you were allowed to investigate.”

“Not officially, but no one can stop me from asking questions.”

The tension in her neck eased. “Then by all means. I’ll let you know how the show goes. It’s on for another month so you can catch it later. Personally, I like opening night.” Stop babbling.

“Sounds great. Have fun and be careful.”

“Always am.”

Damn. She’d been looking forward to seeing him again, however, she understood his need to locate Ethan. She prayed he’d be successful.

Now that Trevor had canceled and the museum would be open until ten, she had a few minutes to spare. She’d give her uncle a call, even stop by his place, find out what he knew, and then head on over to the show—assuming he’d speak with her.

It took a moment to find the number. With her breath held, she dialed.

Her uncle answered. “Lara? Did something happen?”

Besides his brother and sister-in-law dying suddenly? What an odd way to greet her after so many years. She’d emailed him about his brother’s death, but other than a note of sympathy, he’d not called or anything. “No, but is there any way I could stop by? I wanted to ask you a question about something my mother said.”

He coughed. Footsteps sounded in the background. “Aunt Patty is at the store right now so now would be a good time.”

What an odd thing to say. “I’ll come right over. I’m heading your way anyway.” She might lose her nerve if she didn’t get to the bottom of the comment.

She put the finishing touches on her makeup, grabbed her purse, and left. Even though he only lived ten miles away, she programmed her GPS for his house.

Once she arrived, she headed up their massive drive, her legs refusing to stop shaking.

Her uncle opened the door. “Come in.”

No smile. No hug. She understood he and his brother had a falling out, but he shouldn’t take it out on her. “You look good Uncle Jack.”

He finally glanced her way. “You’ve grown.”

“I should hope so.” She laughed, but no doubt, the sound came out forced.

“Let’s sit in the den.”

He fixed a glass of scotch and water and turned to her. “Want something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

He dropped down onto the leather chair and guzzled half the contents. “So what was so important that you needed to see me after all these years?”

“I found out that I was adopted.”

His eyes revealed nothing, but the coloring in his cheeks darkened. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He raised the glass and took a long drink. “And you want to know why I gave you up, I suppose.” Other than the tightening around his mouth, he showed no emotion.

She neared choked. Uncle Jack was her father? How could that be? “Yes. Why did you?” It took all of her composure to keep a straight face.

“I guess it’s about time you learned what happened.” He strode over to the window, his back to her. “I was married when I had an affair.” He faced her again. “If Patty had ever found out I had a child out of wedlock, she’d have booted my ass, and I was too spoiled to live on my own back then.”

And now? She focused on his lips to make sure she understood every word. “Why not acknowledge me as your own daughter once I grew up. Aunt Patty would have forgiven you.”

“Possibly, but it was your mother who wanted to keep the details of your adoption a secret. In fact, she wanted to keep the fact you were adopted at all a secret. My brother was living in Georgia when your birth mother died. They wanted a child, so the solution seemed win-win to me.”

“They could have told me about it.”

“She thought you’d tell. Miriam was riddled with guilt and wouldn’t have been able to handle the exposure.”

“Over my adoption? Or my deafness?”

“Over the fact that she didn’t act fast enough when she realized how sick you were with meningitis. She was a new mother and didn’t think much about your fever. When your health didn’t improve after two days, she brought you into the doctors. By then, the damage was done. You’d lost your hearing.”

“Anyone could have made that mistake.”

He waved a hand. “I know that, but Miriam never forgave herself. She thought that if no one knew you were deaf, she wouldn’t be ostracized for her error.”

Lara sat there for a moment, trying to understand. “Is that why I had so many speech therapists? So I would speak well enough to fool most people?”

“Maybe. I know for a fact your father wanted you to have tutors, but your mother said that would make her look bad. That’s when I knew I had to step away.”

She should be shocked, but part of her knew her mom’s actions rang true. “Can you tell me about my real mother?” She had some details but wanted them confirmed.

“Lucy? She was a real estate agent in town. She actually sold us this house. When she told me she was pregnant, I told her I didn’t want anything to do with you or her.” He glanced away, not meeting her gaze and cleared his throat. “About a year and a half later, Lucy called to say she had cancer and that she was moving back to New Mexico to stay with her mom.”

She could fill in the blanks. “After she died, her family contacted you, but you didn’t want me. Why?” Her heart tripped at yet another betrayal. Was she so unlovable even back then?

“I couldn’t take you. I was too much of a coward to admit I had a child. As I said, Patty would have had my head.”

“Why didn’t my birth certificate list you as my father?”

“I paid Lucy to say she didn’t know who the father was.”

“Maybe I will have a drink after all.”

For the first time, he smiled. Once he fixed her a glass and refilled his own, he handed her the drink. “How did you learn about the adoption?”

“Mother had written a vague letter that the lawyers read during the will.”

“And she mentioned me?” His eyes widened.

“No.” She told him of her visit to New Mexico.

“That must have been a shock to you.”

“You could say that.” She took a sip of the too strong drink. “I was watching a video of my sixth birthday party and my parents were fighting. My mother said you had ruined her life. If you hadn’t assumed I knew you were my father, I might never have learned it.” A tear trickled down her cheek as the horrifying pieces finally clicked into place.

Uncle Charles’ cell rang. “It’s Patty.” The conversation was one-sided. He stuffed his cell into his shirt pocket. “She’s running a bit late but is on her way home. I think it would be better if she doesn’t find you here. I’ll need time to break the news to her.”

She stood and waited for him to open his arms and give her a hug, but instead, he poured himself another drink. She slipped out the front door like a leper not wanting to cause problems for anyone else.

The drive away from his house wasn’t any more settling that the drive there. Somehow, she managed to keep her mind alert enough to reach the downtown museum. The opening didn’t hold much appeal after her conversation with Uncle Jack, or rather with her real dad, but going home and brooding over the lies and the distrust would be worse. Her palms slipped on the wheel as she sorted through what her uncle had told her. Was it the whole truth?

Most likely. He had no reason to lie now.

As she pulled into the parking garage adjacent to the museum, she turned her thoughts to Trevor. Her heart saddened thinking how much turmoil he would be going through not knowing what happened to Ethan and prayed he’d have an answer soon.

She found a spot on the third floor parking garage. Her parents had served on the Acquisitions Board several years ago. Her mom always said the citizens of the town needed to support the arts, or someday there would be no live theatre and no museums. Given the number of cars here, the museum was going to thrive.

Lara headed toward the main entrance. What would she have said to her mom if she were still alive, walking with her to the opening?

You made me feel defective when in truth you were the one who was defective?

No. That was mean, but right now, she wasn’t in a generous mood. The one thing her mom had taught her was that people lied. No kidding, Mom.

No one could be trusted, not even family.

She straightened her shoulders, adjusted her shawl, and entered the museum. The place was packed. Good. She didn’t see Dr. Hoffman or his brother, but a friend of her parents was standing by a Native American tableau.

The elderly woman turned and smiled. “Why, Lara Romano. How nice to see you again.” Mrs. Thomas patted her hand. “I’m so sorry about your folks.”

“Thank you.” If she knew what they were really like, she might not have been sorry.

Mrs. Thomas adjusted the linen flower on her lapel. “My, don’t these wax sculptures look lifelike.”

Lara stepped closer. “They’re magnificent.” She studied the poses. Something about one of the men tickled the back of her mind.

“Is something wrong?”

She turned to the acquaintance and smiled. “No. I’m just amazed, that’s all. The shape of his brow and width of his eyes reminds me of someone.” Only who?

“I’m like that too. I meet someone for the first time and swear I’ve seen them before.”

“Lara?” A large woman, dressed in a red hat with a purple plume waddled up to her. “I’m so sorry to hear about Bladen and Miriam.”

She exchanged a few of the pleasant stories about her parents until a group of women she didn’t recognize ambled over. “Excuse me,” Lara said to no one in particular.

She moved to the back of the museum and admired the paintings and brass sculptures that reminded her of Santa Fe and the mother she never knew. Of particular interest in the museum was the section on the Navajos. Carlton Tapp, a famous photographer, had a documentary on the Dine, or Navajo people, who were affected by the Desert Rock power plant in New Mexico. The plaques on the wall detailed their plight. Her stomach churned. Some of the interiors of the homes looked much like her grandmother’s house, and her heart broke once more at the poverty and injustice of it all.

The museum lights flashed, signaling the doors would be closing soon. She must have spent more time with her uncle than she realized. She’d return to the show, perhaps with Trevor, and study the exhibit in more detail. He might even like the art.

Dr. Hoffman and his brother must be in another room celebrating, or else they’d left early. If they’d been there, surely she would have run into them. Perhaps she’d call the mortician tomorrow and tell him how wonderful the exhibit was.

Lara walked up to the third floor parking level, not in the mood to take the elevator. Once in the confining lot, she hurried to the safety of her vehicle. Apparently, she was one of the last to leave. While well lit, the place unsettled her, or had the news about her biological father caused havoc and made her overly nervous? It was probably just her implant misreading the sounds. Her high heels smacked against the cement and reverberated against the walls sending her nerves into a jittery spasm.

“Lara?”

She turned, not sure where the voice came from. Her shoulders relaxed when she spotted the artist. “Mr. Hoffman. How nice to see you again. Your display was remarkable.”

“You liked it?” He stood too close.

She backed up. “Absolutely.” Goose chills pimpled her arms. She grabbed the door handle behind her.

He slid his hand into his pocket, and her gaze shot to his fingers working something in the coat. Robert Hoffman’s lips pulled up into a smile as a sharp prick nailed her in the thigh.

She looked down at the protruding dart. “What—” As she tried to ask him what was happening, her legs crumpled.