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motel before corning here. She should have taken a deep breath and counted to ten before rushing in to confront a woman who may very well want to be left alone. But it was emotion driving her now, not logic, and she wouldn't stop until she was at the front door introducing herself to Agnes Beckett.
     
    A cluster of mailboxes punctuated the entrance to the mobile home park. She stopped the car. A flutter of trepidation shot through her when she saw the name. She hadn't realized Agnes Beckett lived in a mobile home.
     
    Addison parked curbside and stared at the rusty blue and white trailer. This is it, she told herself. Right or wrong, she was going to meet Agnes Beckett.
     
    Taking a deep breath, she opened the car door and stepped into the brutal wind. Though it was barely noon, the sky was dark and the temperature had begun a bone-numbing descent . Thankful for her full - length coat, she wrapped it more tightly around her and started for the mobile home.
     
    The lot was well kept and landscaped with evergreen shrubs. A giant bare-branched maple stood next to the trailer like a soldier standing guard at a point of passage . Inside her kidskin gloves, her hands were icy. She climbed the stairs and knocked quietly, unable to keep herself from peering through the modest curtains . A built - in bar separated the kitchen from the living room . She saw fake wood cabinets. Cheap paneling. A rusty yellow stove that had probably been around since her kindergarten days . She knocked again, shivering as the wind penetrated her coat.
     
    "Are you the new owner?”
     
    Addison spun, the words new owner ringing uncomfortably in her ears. An elderly woman wrapped in a crocheted shawl stood at the foot of the stairs l o oking up at her . "I'm looking f o r Agnes Beckett."
     
    The woman cocked her head. "Who are y o u?"
     
    "I'm Addison Fox . " Stepping down, she extended her hand.
     
    "I ' m Jewel Harshbarger. You a relative?"
     
    The question caught her off guard, and Addison didn't know exactly how to reply at first . She hadn't actually considered herself related to Agnes Beckett. Realizing a little white lie was in order, if only to protect her birth mother's p r ivacy, she said, "I'm a friend of the family. Does she still live here?"
     
    "Honey, it's cold as a well digger ' s butt out here." She looked across the plowed field and pulled the shawl more tightly about her shoulders . "Would you like to come next door and have a cup of tea?"
     
    Puzzled by the woman ' s reluctance to answer her question, Addison nodded . The wind had grown downright nasty, and she didn't want this elderly woman out in the cold. She followed her to the adjacent lot .
     
    Inside, the mobile borne was hot and smelled of mothballs, old carpet, and Ben-Gay. "You were telling me about Agnes Beckett," Addison began.
     
    Jewel shuffled to an old gas stove, poured water into a copper kettle, then set it over the flame. "Why don't you make yourself at home in the living room, child," she said, pulling a tin of shortbread from the cupboard. "I'll be right there."
     
    Staving off irritation, Addison wandered into the next room, noticing the hand-crocheted afghans draped over the sofa and easy chair. The TV was on with the volume low and a little silver Christmas tree blinked merrily in the front window. Grateful to be out of the cold, she pulled off her gloves and coat and draped them over the arm of the sofa.
     
    A moment later, Jewel returned with a tray bearing two cups and a plate of shortbread squares. "Here we are."
     
    Addison reached for one of the cups, the warmth easing away the iciness in her fingers. "I understand Agnes Beckett used to live next door. I've been trying to reach her, but she hasn't answered my letters."
     
    The woman's expression turned grave. "I hate to be the bearer of such terrible news, child, but Agnes Beckett was murdered three weeks ago."
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
     
     
    The floor shifted beneath