Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [78]
"She can handle herself," Alex replied.
"And she can speak for herself, too," Julia interrupted, drawing their attention back to her. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions until the police finish their investigation." Actually, she was already jumping to conclusions, but she didn't want to share them with Michael or with Liz. She needed to talk to Alex alone. But Michael would have none of that.
"Why don't you leave?" Michael said to Alex. "I'll take care of Julia and Liz." He put a protective and proprietary arm around Julia's shoulders.
She could hardly knock it off, but she didn't like the way Michael was staking his claim, or the way Alex was looking at her, as if he couldn't believe she was standing there letting Michael take control. She sensed the situation was on the verge of exploding into something even worse.
"Maybe you should go, Alex," she said quietly, silently pleading with him to understand.
Alex hesitated, an unreadable look in his eyes. Then he shrugged. "Sure. Call me later."
Julia had to fight the urge to run after him. She was far more interested in talking to him about what this break-in might mean than in dealing with Michael and Liz, who were both annoyed with her. But she knew she couldn't leave. She had to talk to them first. She owed them that much.
Liz walked over and shut the door behind Alex, then put her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she stared at Julia and the destruction surrounding them. "This is scary," Liz said. "What kind of people are you mixed up with?"
"I don't know," Julia muttered.
Michael pulled her around so he could gaze into her eyes. "Julia. Please. I'm asking you. Let this search of yours go. Call the newspaper. Tell them they were wrong. You're not that girl. And your family needs to be left alone."
"Don't you understand, Michael? It's too late. Everything is in motion. I told the reporter I wasn't that girl. She didn't believe me. And it's obvious that someone who saw my picture in the newspaper thinks I am that girl. And it looks like that someone believes I have something that I'm not supposed to have."
"What? What do you have?" he asked impatiently. "Is there more you haven't told me?"
She couldn't even remember what she had told him. Her head was spinning with bits and pieces of information. "I don't know what I have that they want, Maybe it's the swan necklace. Maybe it's the matryoshka doll. It's possible that it's old and valuable. Your guess is as good as mine. I'm just glad they were in my bag, not the apartment."
"So they might come back looking for them, looking for you," Michael said.
"I hope not. And I'm just guessing that that's what they're looking for. I really don't know." She still needed to go to the Russian shop and talk to Dasha's cousin, Svetlana, about the doll. She'd forgotten all about that part of the story. Maybe that's what she would do next.
"Julia, this is too dangerous," Michael said. "If you I come forward, if you make a public statement that 1 you're turning over these items to the police, whoever! did this might back away."
"Or they might not." She could see the disappointment in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Michael, but I don't want to turn over my necklace and that doll to the police. They're the only clues I have to my past. I have to finish my search."
"At what cost? You and Liz could have been killed. If you aren't thinking about yourself, what about your sister?"
"Yeah, what about your sister?" Liz echoed. "Listen to him, Julia. He's making good sense. Yesterday some man called here. He had a Russian accent. He kept calling you Yulia. And he seemed agitated when I couldn't put you on the phone. He scared me. There was something in his voice." She paused. "I wonder if he was the one who did this."
Julia wondered if he was the same man who'd been outside the radio station. Maybe she shouldn't have run from that man. Maybe she should have stayed and confronted him, instead of taking off like a scared child.
"You need to back off," Michael urged. "If you show complete disinterest in the story, perhaps the press will move