Dangerous Inheritance (11 page)

“The kitchen, I guess. And I suppose I should talk to you.”

But she didn’t want to. He could hear it in her voice. Better go slowly and give her time to pull herself together. And he preferred the kitchen himself. It seemed more intimate sitting across the table from each other. Apparently she felt the same way, which made him feel good, but he wondered what had happened now. He sat down and watched as she moved around the room fidgeting with one thing after another. From what he could see, she was trying to postpone talking for as long as possible. That was okay. He was here and he wasn’t leaving until she told him what was wrong. He could wait, no matter how long it took.

After a few minutes of killing time, she fixed two glasses of iced tea and sat down at the table.

“I was in the Iron Kettle and I met Quent Harper. He came over and introduced himself. He said he knew my father.”

Nick nodded. He knew Quent. He was a pretty good guy. Set in his ways, but then most people were, including him, he guessed. “He upset you?”

“No, that was Anita Miles.”

“Ah-huh.” He knew Anita, too. Most people in town did. She wasn’t one of his favorites, a pain in the neck most of the time. “What did she want?”

Macy rubbed her forehead. “I saw her in church, and she was unfriendly. Today she was...
hateful,
I guess is the only word for it.”

“She’s not exactly a ray of sunshine anytime. What got her back up today?”

“She more or less said my father was guilty and that I was taking on more than I could handle.”

Nick leaned forward, taking her hand in his, feeling that warm shock of awareness he received every time he touched her. “Look, Macy. You knew you were going to run into this kind of thing. Don’t let it bother you.”

She glanced at him, her eyes full of misery. “That’s not all. I made Quent tell me about her and he said she was one of the witnesses against my father at the trial. She claimed he was having an affair with her and that he wanted a divorce but my mother wouldn’t give him one. She said he was talking about ways to get rid of his wife.”

Nick realized he needed to talk to Quent. The files he’d read so far hadn’t mentioned that Steve Douglas had been a womanizer. He wished with all his heart he could do or say something to help her, something to wipe the pain out of her eyes.

He’d questioned a couple of Steve’s friends who had been sure he was innocent, and Garth Nixon’s former campaign manager who claimed Steve was lower than dirt. That he’d ruined a good man by the lies he’d told about Garth. Although considering what Nick knew about Garth, he didn’t have as good a view of the guy.

“Don’t let it get to you, Macy. Anita isn’t known for being all that truthful, and this happened a long time ago. We’ve got a lot to sort through before we learn the truth. Keep praying, keep trusting God and don’t give up. You’re not alone. We’re in this together.”

Nick realized how strongly he meant that. Macy Douglas had moved into his heart in a way he hadn’t expected and had tried to fight against it. Now he’d do everything he could to bring her peace. Even if the truth convicted his father of doing wrong. Nick took a deep breath, praying it wouldn’t come to that, but it was something he had to consider, no matter how often he tried to deny the very suggestion, or how much he hated even thinking about it.

Still, he couldn’t go against the way he had been raised. He believed his father had lived his Christian beliefs, and he had to do the same. To do otherwise would not only be a betrayal of those beliefs, it would also be a betrayal of his father. He had to do what he thought was right. That was the way his father had lived. He hadn’t seen proof of anything different so far, and until he did, he wouldn’t stop believing in the man who had raised him. But he would also make every effort to discover the truth, no matter what it would be. He owed that to Macy.

The hope in her eyes went through him like a knife. Yes, he’d do all he could to learn the truth, but what if that truth hurt one—or both—of them? Would the relationship blooming between them be strong enough to survive?

Nick watched Macy, seeing the warring expressions fleeting across her face. She would seem receptive to what he was saying, and then in the next instant withdraw from him, looking wary. He sensed that she didn’t fully trust him, which bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He had a feeling that trusting wasn’t easy for Macy. He needed to back off, give her room. No, he didn’t like it, but he had no choice. For now he would just have to do the best he could to earn her trust and leave the rest up to God.

“Listen to me, Macy. No matter where we go with this we’re likely to run into people who say things that we won’t like, even things that might hurt. If that happens, we’ll just have to ignore it and move on. What you’ve set out to do is more important than someone’s opinion of you or your parents.”

She stared at him for a minute before slowly nodding her head. “You’re right, of course. It’s just that I want so much to believe they were both victims. That someone else killed my mother and then framed my father for the crime. I’ve lost so much it’s hard to listen when someone says hateful things about either one.”

“I know. And I’ll protect you from that as much as I can, but I can’t always be there.”

She sighed. “I understand what you’re saying, but it’s still hard. I guess I’ll just have to toughen up and take it. After all, what I owe my family is more important than what anyone has to say. You don’t have to worry. I won’t fall apart again.”

What she owed? She saw this as a moral task, just the way he felt about his father. He only hoped he could work his way through this tangle of lies and truths without destroying either one of them. But he was a cop. He had taken an oath. No matter what this turned up, even if what he discovered broke his heart, he would have to carry through. If he made it through this mess in one piece, he was going to need God’s help—big-time.

* * *

Macy watched him. Would he really be there for her? He’d said it, but could she trust him? Did he really mean it? She’d been hurt before by trusting the wrong man. She was wiser now. Wise enough to know that a promise wasn’t always worth the breath it took to make it. Something about Nick said he might be different, though.

She’d already relied on him more than she wanted to, but he was always there. She thought about that. Always there? Yes, that described him. So maybe she could depend on him, after all. At least she hoped so, but there was a limit to what she could expect from him.

He leaned toward her...close...too close. She knew she should draw back, but instead she held her breath, waiting. Nick placed both hands on her shoulders, and she resisted the urge to lean toward him. His eyes stared into hers—direct, piercing.

“I meant what I said, Macy. I’m in this with you. Don’t you ever doubt it. I’ll do everything I can to help you, whatever the cost.”

Whatever the cost? What did he mean by that? Was he putting himself at risk by investigating her mother’s death? More important, was he hiding something from her? Could she trust him, after all?

He seemed to know what she was thinking because he released her shoulders and leaned back. Macy felt a sense of loss, as if she had thrown away something very precious. Done something she would regret later when she had time to think about it.

Nick’s attitude became more businesslike, more of an officer than a friend. “Now, the first thing we have to discover is the name of the person who threatened you over the phone. I’m going over the police files, asking questions, but I’ll need your help. You might talk to Raleigh Benson again and see what he can tell you about your parents and your grandmother.”

Macy accepted the change in his attitude, hoping she hadn’t offended him. She needed him too much to do that. Needed him? Was that the only reason she wanted him around? Feeling ashamed at the thought, she hastened to cooperate. “All right, I can do that. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of right now. I’m going to see Joe Tipton and ask him what he knows. When he was here fixing the alarm he seemed to feel like your dad got a raw deal. Maybe he has some inside information that will help us.”

Macy stared at him, feeling a glimmer of hope. Maybe Nick really was serious about helping her. Could she actually have met someone she could depend on after years of having no one except her grandmother? She’d always felt left out when her friends talked about their families, about doing things with them, sharing with them. Her grandmother had always been there for her, but she had missed having a mother and father, sisters, a brother, all the things her friends had and she didn’t.

There had been something dark hiding in Grandma Douglas, a certain sadness, preventing her from enjoying life. Macy understood that sadness now, but it had been disturbing when she was growing up. She remembered the way her grandmother would sit, silent, staring out the window, the way she occasionally brushed away a tear. A part of her wished she had known back then what was wrong. Perhaps she could have helped. But deep down, she knew nothing she could have done would have lightened the load. Only God could ease the burden of a mother grieving for her child.

She pulled her attention back to Nick, seeing the sincerity in his expression. “I don’t know many people in town, and the ones I have met don’t seem to want to talk to me, but maybe they’ll be more open with you.”

At least she hoped so. But with Nick helping her, she felt as though they had at least made a start on learning the truth about her past.

NINE

M
acy opened the file she’d found in her grandmother’s closet and spread a pile of newspaper clippings out on the table. The headline of the closest one confirmed her suspicion as to what they would be. Woman Murdered at 879 Oak Drive.

Her grandmother Douglas had a few newspaper articles, but mostly about the trial. Macy had searched the internet, but found only a couple of articles, one of which she already had read. After all, it had been seventeen years. No one cared that much anymore. No one except her. She found one she’d never seen and had a feeling it would be different. Macy stared at the yellowed clipping for a moment, trying to work up the courage to read it. Finally she lifted the article off the table and took a deep, steadying breath.

Megan Douglas, wife of prominent newspaper owner Steven Douglas, was murdered in her home last night.

Icy fingers wrapped around Macy’s heart. There it was. In black-and-white. Had it been published in her father’s newspaper? Probably. Since it was the only one in town as far as she knew. Had he written the article, stating the facts?

No. He couldn’t have. Not if he had really loved her.

She read further, cringing at the description of the wounds on her mother’s poor, battered body. How could any sane person kill a helpless, unarmed victim like this? Hurting her almost beyond recognition.

She’d never dreamed it would be this bad. Her mother, not just killed, but viciously attacked. She leaned back, eyes closed, struggling against the images the words brought to life. Not a memory, nothing like that, just word pictures painted by the author of the article. Pictures her unruly mind insisted on visualizing.

A shadowy wisp of something as fragile and tenuous as a drift of fog floated through her consciousness. A voice, harsh with anger. No, a much stronger emotion than anger. A voice hardened with hatred.

A voice strangely familiar.

You brat. Get away from me.

Macy tried to hold the memory, trying to remember who had said the words, but as quickly as it had come, the faint echo faded from her mind. She slapped the table in frustration. She wanted more. More than these isolated bits of memory that didn’t seem to connect to anything. Would she ever know the truth? She pushed the clippings away, unable to continue reading.

Surrendering to an overwhelming desire to recall what she had thought she’d remembered, Macy leaned forward, hands over her eyes, struggling to call back the words, the memory of the voice, but the moment was gone. Finally she closed the file, feeling like an impostor. She might own this house, but would she ever truly feel at home here? Or would the horrible past that had stalked these rooms destroy her, too?

There was something she needed to do. Something she had pushed aside for too long. It was time to act. Macy reached for the phone and called Nick.

He answered on the second ring. “What’s wrong, Macy?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just want to visit my mother’s grave. Can you give me directions to the cemetery?”

“I can do better than that. There’s not much traffic out there and it might be better if you don’t go alone. I’ll be glad to take you. When do you want to go?”

Macy took a deep breath. This was too personal to share with anyone, but then again, maybe Nick was right. The cemetery might be isolated, no place for her to be by herself right now. Not with an unknown enemy out there just waiting for a chance to get at her.

She bit back her protests, grateful he was willing to take time to go with her. If she had to make this trip with someone, she’d rather have Nick than anyone she could think of. “Any time you’re free.”

“I’m not on duty until tonight. We can go now if you want.”

Macy hesitated. Yes, she needed to see the graves, but was she ready for this? She forced herself to swallow her uncertainty. What was wrong with her, wavering back and forth all the time? Couldn’t she just make a decision and stick with it? What had happened to the woman who always had to be in control? Evidently she had disappeared, replaced with a muddle-minded woman who didn’t know from one minute to the next what she needed to do. No matter how seeing the graves affected her, with Nick beside her she could handle it.

“Now would be fine if you can get away.”

“No problem. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He ended the call, and Macy checked her makeup, locked the door behind her and waited for him on the porch. As soon as she saw him coming, driving a dark blue pickup instead of his police car, she got up and walked down to meet him. Nick leaned over, opening the door for her. His smile immediately brightened her mood. Being with him always made her feel better. She climbed in and looked over at him.