Birthright

window. “If I hire you, whatever we discuss is confidential.”
    “Of course.” Just standing there, Lana thought, the woman put off waves of energy. She wondered if it was exhausting to run on that vibrating loop.
    Lana opened a drawer, took out a fresh legal pad. “Whether or not you hire me, whatever you tell me here will be confidential. So why don’t you tell me so we can decide?”
    “I’m looking for a lawyer.”
    “Looks like you’ve found one.”
    “No, another lawyer. Marcus Carlyle. He practiced in Boston between 1968 and 1979.” That much she’d been able to find out by cell phone on the drive back down.
    “And after ’seventy-nine?”
    “He closed his practice. That’s all I know. I also know that at least part of his practice included arranging private adoptions.”
    She took a folder out of her bag, leafed through and set her adoption papers on Lana’s desk. “I want you to check on this, too.”
    Lana noted the names, looked up. “I see. Are you trying to find your birth parents?”
    “No.”
    “Callie, if you want me to help you, you have to trust me. I can initiate a search for Carlyle. I can, with your written permission, attempt to cut through some of the privacy blocks on adoptions in the seventies and get you some answers on your birth family. I can do both of those thingswithout any more information than what you’ve given me. But I can do them quicker, and better, if you give me more.”
    “I’m not prepared to give you more. Yet. I’d like you to find out what you can about Carlyle. To locate him if possible. And to find out what you can about the process that led to this adoption. I’ve got some digging to do myself in a couple of other areas. When we have answers, we’ll see if I need to take this any further. Do you want a retainer?”
    “Yes, I do. We’ll start with five hundred.”
    W ith the idea of picking up a few supplies at the hardware store, Jake cruised into Woodsboro. He’d been tempted a number of times that day to try Callie on her cell phone.
    But since he knew any conversation would probably end in an argument, he saved himself the headache.
    If she wasn’t back in the field the next morning, they’d go a round. Getting her mad was a surefire way to unearth whatever was wrong with her.
    When he spotted her Rover parked in front of the local library, he swung to the curb himself. He parked on top of her bumper—just in case she decided to run out on him—then got out and sauntered across the sidewalk and up the concrete steps to the old stone building.
    There was an elderly woman at the check-in counter. He was very good with elderly women and, pouring on the charm, leaned on her counter.
    “Afternoon, ma’am. I don’t mean to bother you, but I saw my associate’s car out front. I’m Jacob Graystone, with the Antietam Creek Project.”
    “You’re one of the scientists. I promised my grandson I’d bring him out to see what y’all are doing soon as I can. We’re sure excited about it.”
    “So are we. How old’s your grandson?”
    “He’s ten.”
    “You make sure to come and see me when you visit the site. I’ll show you both around.”
    “That’s mighty nice of you.”
    “We want to educate as well as document. Can you tell me if Dr. Dunbrook came in? Callie Dunbrook. A very attractive blonde, about this high.”
    He held up a hand at his shoulder as the woman nodded. “We don’t get many faces in here I don’t know right off. Sure, she’s in the resource room, just in the back there.”
    “Thanks.” He gave her a wink and headed off.
    As far as he could see, the library was empty but for the old woman, himself and Callie, whom he saw running a microfiche at a table.
    She had her legs crossed on the chair, which told him she’d been at it at least twenty minutes. She always ended up sitting like that when she worked at a desk longer than twenty minutes.
    He walked up behind her, read over her shoulder.
    The fingers of her left hand were tapping lightly on the table, another sign she’d been at it awhile.
    “Why are you looking through thirty-year-old local papers?”
    She nearly jumped out of the chair and sprang up high and hard enough to rap her head against his chin.
    “Goddamnit,” they said in unison.
    “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me that way?” she demanded.
    “What the hell are you doing not coming to the site?” Even as he countered, he grabbed her hand before she could switch off the