Free SHADOW OVER CEDAR KEY by Ann Cook Page A

hesitated in the doorway, but she spoke up. “Catching whoever was digging near the mound was a real service to the parks department, even if I didn’t get the picture I went for.” She straightened her shoulders, as if remembering something else, even more important. “This morning Brandy told me something no one else would.”
    Brandy dropped her gaze while Cara stared at Marcia. “An investigator’s been in town. He had information about a woman who might be my mother. I’m sure that’s what Mr. MacGill came here to tell you last night. You know how much I’ve wanted to find out about my birth parents! Now the man’s gone.”
    Marcia flushed, Brandy did not know if from anger or hurt. “I suppose she told you money might be involved. Is that what really interests you?
    Cara’s eyes clouded and she sank into a chair before the fireplace. Confronting her foster mother, Brandy thought, was not what she did best. Marcia turned to Brandy. “We have to leave now. Cara’s helping in the gallery today. Your dog’s leash is on a peg at the back door.”
    Brandy glanced at the photographs on the mantel. In the faded one, the child’s eyes and hair were lighter than Cara’s, the oval of her face a bit fuller, but they had a similar delicacy. Marcia Waters had lost one daughter, Brandy reminded herself. She did not intend to lose another. Brandy moved toward the door. “Is there a description of the child who came here with her mother? Anything that would connect her with Cara?”
    “The cashier at the Otter Creek café was the only person who talked to the woman,” Cara said. “You’ve seen her account. Useless.”
    Brandy looked at the artist, but Marcia shook her head. “A hurricane was coming. I’m sure the woman simply changed her mind about coming to Cedar Key. Quite sensible.” She arched her neck and seemed to look down at Cara from a great height. “Cara persists in this fiction. Her attitude’s common among adopted children. She wants to glamorize her birth parents. The fact is, she was most likely abandoned by workers trying to escape the storm. We’re not likely to learn anymore at this late date.” Marcia picked up her black sweater from the back of a chair. “We’ve got to go. The gallery should be open now. The weekend’s our best time.”
    Cara helped lift Brandy’s bouncing retriever onto the rear seat and gave her a quick nuzzle. “You’re a sweet dog,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight.” But the life had gone out of her voice.
    Cara’s trapped, Brandy thought, as she pulled away from the curb. Unless she had help, Marcia Waters would never let her break free. She’d never go away to study, or find her original family or be herself. She looked again at her watch. She was fifteen minutes late for meeting John.
    She was almost to Second Avenue when she slowed at an intersection and noticed a commotion at a tiny Gulf beach a block to her right. Several men in jeans and coveralls were standing around or leaning on pick-ups, a fish and oyster panel truck was parked to one side, and what appeared to be a wrecking truck was backing toward the water. A white police car with red and blue stripes zipped past.
    A few minutes later Brandy found John beside the salmon-colored museum, his camera aimed at a flock of yellow-breasted birds feeding on the berries of a Red Cedar. He held up a white café bag, proof that he had kept his part of the bargain, and opened the driver’s door. “I can’t wait to check the width of the boat slips at Fowler’s Bluff.” He grinned. “I’ll see if our boat would fit. Then on to your Shell Mound picnic among the haunts.”
    Brandy slid over into the passenger seat. “One short detour,” she said, her smile apologetic. “Something’s going on at the end of E Street, just a couple of blocks from here.” She loved the unadorned labeling of Cedar Key’s downtown streets. No developer’s Sunset Lanes and Rolling Gulf Avenues. Just plain numbers