Cradle Of Secrets by Lisa Mondello Page A

feeling foolish that the thought had even entered her mind. There was more at stake here than what either of them might be feeling.
    After clearing her throat, she said, “I think Serena was telling the truth yesterday.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œI think…I think I am her sister.”
    He gave her a crooked grin. “You’re just figuring that out? I think it’s obvious there’s some family connection going on there.”
    â€œAurore insisted that the baby Eleanor Davco was carrying died in the fire.”
    â€œShe also pretended not to know you or your parents until you called her on it. She’s lying. I think it’s safe to say everything she tells you is suspect.”
    Tammie’s head was throbbing. She placed a finger against her temple to ease the pain. “I don’t know when the fire was, but given the age Serena was in the picture, I’m guessing I’m only a year or two younger.”
    â€œI think you’re right. How they could have missed a baby is beyond me. Someone must have questioned it. Surely your father…”
    Her stomach coiled. It was hard to think of any man other than Aaron Gardner as her father. “Eleanor was pregnant. Maybe they didn’t look for a baby.”
    â€œNo reputable medical examiner would miss something like that. People must have known Eleanor was pregnant. The medical examiner would have questioned not finding the baby. If he didn’t, he was paid off.”
    â€œMaybe people just assumed.”
    â€œMore likely they didn’t ask. And no one in this town is talking. At least not to me.”
    She closed her eyes as the sun poked above the line of trees and shone in her face.
    When he spoke again, Dylan’s face was sympathetic. “I’m going to get rid of that trash bag. I think there’s still a cup or two left in the coffeepot. Why don’t you polish it off, and I’ll meet you inside, where the bright light won’t bother you? You look tired.”
    Tammie nodded as he grabbed the trash bag and began to walk down the path toward the Dumpster. It wasn’t fatigue that was dragging her down now. It was defeat. She’d come so far, and yet there was so much more she needed to know.
    She grabbed her coffee mug, as well as the one Dylan had left on the picnic table, and went into the camper. The dregs of the coffee looked disgusting, so she turned off the power and drained the hot coffee down the sink. She was just rinsing out the pot when Dylan stepped into the camper.
    â€œWhat about people who aren’t from Eastmeadow?” she asked.
    â€œYou mean the auctioneers?”
    â€œYeah. From what the man at the motel said, there are a lot of out-of-towners that come here every year for the auctions. It’s their livelihood. If they’ve been coming here long enough, they might have known the Davcos. Someone might remember what happened the night my—The night Eleanor died in the fire.”
    Tammie couldn’t quite bring herself to say the word mother when referring to Eleanor Davco. In her heart, Connie Gardner would always be her mother.
    â€œI’m sorry. You must be sick of listening to me go on about my parents when you have your brother to worry about.”
    â€œI think they’re connected in some way.”
    Surprised, she said, “You do? But my parents lived here nearly thirty years ago.”
    â€œAnd took you with them to Oregon on the night that Serena Davco’s mother died in a fire, leaving everyone to believe the baby she was carrying was killed, as well.”
    â€œWhat are you saying?”
    â€œI don’t know yet,” Dylan said. “But I think it’s time to clean up here and do a little antique shopping.”
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    The auction grounds were littered with cardboard boxes and wooden crates cracked open to reveal their goods—everything from fine linens to china. The backs of flatbed trucks had