Part 39 (2/2)

She had two avenues left in her search for her sister. The photo. And Memphis, where neighbors of her great-aunt might recall something.

Both were long shots.

But finding her sister now was her driving force. She felt that in some way she had pushed certain people into action. Maybe it was Fuller. Maybe someone entirely different. She only knew she had to find out which.

She signed papers and dutifully accepted prescriptions for painkillers and an antibiotic, then used her cell phone to call a cab. For a fraction of a second, she wanted to cry. But tears wouldn't help.

She could think of only one thing that would. Her family had been taken by disease and malice. But she still had a half sister somewhere.

No matter what it took, she was determined to find her.

Then perhaps she could reclaim her life. Get back to the practice of law.

'BISBEE'.

Holly finished the letter. She wrote in longhand since she didn't have a computer, and what she had to write couldn't be done on the library computers. It was too dangerous.

Writing it in her own handwriting might be an advantage. 'If' it was ever seen.

She had asked Marty for names of some reputable attorneys in the area. She needed a will now that she was Harry's sole parent.

Marty had given her several names but recommended one especially highly.

Holly called him and made an appointment in two days' time, the first slot he had available. It would give her time to perfect a story. Even with client-attorney confidentiality, she didn't dare trust too much.

She stared at the letter. This was her third try. The other two had gone into a wastebasket and would be later torn into tiny pieces and flushed down the toilet.

She was no writer. But she carefully detailed everything that had happened the day she had left New Orleans. She described the phone call she had overheard, then the intruder. She explained how the man had a gun in his hands, the code to the security system and a key to the house.

When she was finished, she had three pages. She took Harry with her to a store where she made three copies, then put the contents into envelopes and sealed each of them.

Then she went to see Marty.

She waited until Marty was alone in the store. She drew her friend aside to a place where she could keep Harry in sight, yet out of his sometimes too keen hearing.

”I have an appointment to see Mr. McIntyre,” she said.

”I want to make provisions for Harry in the event anything ...”

Marty nodded.

”I don't have anyone,” Holly said starkly. ”I know it's a great deal to ask but would you--could you--be my executor? Would you look after Harry's interests?”

Marty searched her face. ”There's no one else? No parent? No sibling? Perhaps your husband's family ...?”

Holly shook her head. ”No direct relations, and those who aren't, well, I wouldn't want them near my boy.”

”I'm sixty-five years old,” Marty said.

”The youngest sixty-five I've ever known.”

”Still...”

”I am not asking you to keep him,” Holly said, her heart aching at the thought of an abandoned little boy. But she had thought and thought and thought. There was no one else she could trust.

Marty's eyes bored into hers, seeking to go deeper than Holly intended to allow.

”Nothing will happen,” Holly sought to rea.s.sure Marty. ”But everyone should have a will.” She hated lying to Marty. She hated not telling her that there was a possibility that something 'could' happen. If it did, her husband's family might get control of Harry after all. But at least she could try to do something.

Perhaps the desperation in her face reached Marty. She nodded her head slowly, then asked in a soft voice, ”Is there something I should know, Liz?”

There was. There was a lot she should know. But Holly couldn't tell her. Not now. What if she disapproved of murder, even in self-defense? What if she didn't believe her?

She didn't know if she would believe someone with that kind of tale. Why not go to the police? That would have been her first reaction.

So instead she thanked Marty. She gave the shop owner one of the sealed envelopes. ”It's not to be opened unless something happens to me.”

Marty gave her a searching gaze, her eyes worried. Then she nodded.

One of the other two envelopes would go to her attorney. The third would stay in her possession.

Harry approached her, and his hand clutched hers tightly. His small earnest face reflected worry. Apparently her tension had seeped into him.

”Let's go someplace special,” she said.

He looked up at her with big, round eyes. ”Where?”

”It's a surprise.”

”Can we take Caesar?”

”Not this time, but we'll take him for a walk when we get home.”

She had been wanting to take him to a nearby town for days, but she'd been afraid to drive. Now, with her newly obtained license, she could give him some of the adventures he craved.

Work could wait until tonight when he was asleep.

She settled him into the car seat and looked around at the houses as she drove out of town.

Days were rus.h.i.+ng by. She loved working on her sculptures. She loved the walks she took with Harry and Caesar. She liked her easy relations.h.i.+p with Marty and her growing friends.h.i.+ps within the city.

She had even missed her morning trip to the library today. She had been intent on seeing Marty, yes, but she wondered whether it wasn't also a sign of growing confidence that she and Harry were safer. The visits to Marty and to the attorney were insurance. Nothing more.

Harry chattered as they drove. He saw a cow and exclaimed.

They reached Tombstone and his eyes grew even larger as he gazed at the Old West exteriors. The town had daily recreations of the shoot-out at the O.K. Corral with Wyatt Earp. She wasn't crazy about the violence, but she knew Harry would love the actors in Old West garb. And the horses.

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