Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [55]
"I think she is," Alex said, refusing to go along with her.
She met his gaze and saw nothing but confidence. "Why? We don't have any evidence."
"Sure we do. Don't start running scared again, Julia."
She bristled at his brisk tone. "I'm not doing that. I'm examining the facts."
"No, you're trying to twist the facts, undo the connections, but you can't. Your father gave you the names of your grandparents, Henry and Susan. They had a daughter named Sarah, and she went to Northwestern. It all matches."
Maybe it did. Maybe she was just scared to connect the dots. Thinking about vague, nebulous grandparents was different than actually speaking to them.
"But you're right," Alex continued. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions without further investigation. That's why I bought two plane tickets for Buffalo, New York. We're on the ten-forty-five flight, and if we're going to make that flight, we need to leave now."
Her jaw dropped in amazement. "Are you out of your mind? I can't go to Buffalo."
"Of course you can. Even with the time difference and a short layover in Chicago, we can be there by eight o'clock tonight."
"What about my family? I can't leave them to fend for themselves, especially with this article in the newspaper." She dreaded having to return calls to Liz and* Michael, who would probably not be happy about this latest development.
"Without you the story will die down faster," Alex argued. "Tell them to say, 'No comment,' until you get back. This is the best lead we have, Julia. We have to take it."
"What about Daniel Brady?"
"Haven't heard from him. I left Stan another message. They both have my cell phone number. We'll be back tomorrow."
Julia hesitated for a long moment. It was one thing to move along in her daily life and do a little research, but flying across the country was a big step. Still, the sooner she got some answers, the better. And she was curious about whether or not this woman was her grandmother. "Did you tell her about me?" she asked. "Did you tell her we were coming?"
"I didn't get a chance. She hung up too fast. I can go on my own if you'd rather stay here. I thought you might-"
"Want to meet her," Julia finished. "I do. If she is my grandmother, she's probably the only person who can tell me about my mother. I need to stop by my apartment and pick up some clothes. And I'll bring the necklace and the matryoshka doll. Maybe she'll know where they came from."
"And some photographs of your mother," Alex said. "I want to make sure we have the right woman."
It was just after eight o'clock in the evening when they landed in Buffalo. Julia was glad she'd grabbed a coat before leaving San Francisco. The northeastern air was much colder, and the clouds were threatening rain, maybe even snow, and it was only September. She couldn't imagine her mother, who had shivered in sixty-degree weather, living on the East Coast with its long and brutal winters. Maybe that was one of the reasons why she'd never gone back. But deep down Julia suspected her mother's reasons had nothing to do with the weather.
Alex rented a car and put Julia in charge of the map as they made their way out of the airport. They'd decided against calling Mrs. Davidson in advance. Since Alex had spoken to her that morning, at least they knew she was in town, and hopefully she would be at home. Julia still couldn't quite believe that she'd jumped on a plane and flown across the country with barely an hour's notice. But she was already glad that she'd come. No matter what they learned, at least she could see the city where her mother had spent the early part of her life.
It turned out that her grandmother didn't live in Buffalo proper but in the nearby suburb of Amherst, an upscale neighborhood with gracious old homes set back from the street,