Free Remember Me by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

Covey was stunningly good looking, with even but strong features, a deep tan and dark blond hair that waved and curled even though he wore it short. He was lean as well, but broad shoulders added a hint of strength. When Adam introduced him to Menley, however, it was his eyes she found most compelling. They were a rich, deep hazel, but it wasn’t just the color that fascinated her. Rather, she saw in them the same anguish she’d seen in her own eyes when she looked in the mirror after Bobby had died.
    He’s innocent, she decided. I’d stake my life on it. She was holding Hannah in her right arm. With a smile she shifted the baby and held out her hand. “I’m glad to meet you . . .” she said, then hesitated. He was about her age, she reasoned, and he was a good friend of one of Adam’s best friends. So what should she call him? Mr. Covey sounded stilted. “. . . Scott,” she finished. She reached for the baby’s bottle. “And now Hannah and I will let you two have a chance to talk.”
    Again she hesitated. It was impossible to ignore the reason he was there. “I know I told you on the phone the other night, but I’m very sorry about your wife.”
    â€œThank you.” His voice was low, deep and musical. The kind of voice you could trust, she thought.
    *   *   *
    Hannah had no intention of going to sleep. When Menley put her down, she howled, pushed away the bottle and kicked off the blankets. “I may list you with an adoption agency,” Menley threatened with a smile. She looked at the antique cradle. “I wonder.”
    The small single bed in the room had two pillows on it. She put one in the cradle, laid a still-fussing Hannah on top of it and covered her with the light quilt. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and began to rock the cradle. Hannah’s fussing tapered off. In a few minutes her eyes began to close.
    Menley’s eyes were heavy too. I should get out of this bathing suit before I nap, she thought. But it’s bone dry now, so what’s the difference? She lay down and pulled up the folded afghan at the foot of the bed. Hannah whimpered. “Okay, okay,” she murmured, reaching out her hand and rocking the cradle gently.
    She didn’t know how long it was before the sound of light footsteps awakened her. Opening her eyes, she realized she must have dreamed them, since no one was there. But there was a chill in the room. The window was open, and the breeze must have gotten sharper. She blinked and looked over the edge of the bed. Hannah was blissfully asleep.
    Boy, the service you get, kid, she thought. Even in my sleep I wait on you!
    The cradle was moving from side to side.

21
    â€œT his is a wonderful house,” Scott Covey said as he followed Adam into the library. “My wife and I were looking at it just a few days before she died. She intendedto make an offer on it, but like a true New Englander she had no intention of looking eager to have it.”
    â€œElaine told me about that.” Adam indicated one of the battered club chairs by the windows and settled in the other one. “I don’t have to point out that the furnishings are garage-sale rejects.”
    Covey smiled briefly. “Viv was filled with ideas about going to antique shops and really giving the rooms the look they had in the early seventeen hundreds. Last summer she’d worked for a short time for an interior designer. She was like a kid in a candy store at the prospect of doing this big house herself.”
    Adam waited.
    â€œI’d better get down to business,” Covey said. “First, thank you for seeing me. I know it’s your vacation and I know you wouldn’t have done it if Elaine hadn’t asked you.”
    â€œThat’s true. Elaine is an old friend, and she obviously believes you need help.”
    Covey lifted his hands in a gesture of futility. “Mr.