Dangerous Inheritance (17 page)

He could see the fear in her eyes, and something else. Anger. Macy Douglas was a fighter, and he loved her all the more for it.

Nick stopped to think about that. Love? All right, he’d finally admitted it. What he felt for Macy was the kind of love a man and woman could build a life on. He wasn’t sure how she felt about him, but he knew for sure how he felt about her. This was the wrong time to tell her, though. First he had to figure out a way to keep her alive.

Nick placed his hand on her shoulder, wishing he could take her in his arms and keep her safe, but he knew she would never really be safe until they had unraveled the puzzle of what had actually happened in this house that night.

“Keep in touch, okay? And if anything looks just the little bit wrong, call me.”

She nodded. “I will, and thank you for all you’ve done for me, Nick. I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

He smiled down at her, thinking how vulnerable she was. He’d check back later, just to make sure she was all right. It seemed that he was always walking away from her, but what else could he do? He couldn’t learn anything sitting here. If he was going to solve this case he had to get out and do some investigating. The fact that it was an old case closed out years ago wasn’t helping. But if there was anything to be found, he’d find it. He had to. Both he and Macy were too personally involved to just turn their backs and forget all about it. There was too much at stake.

* * *

Nick had been gone only a few minutes when Hilda Yates dropped by. They sat in the living room and Macy thought about how nice it was to have one friend in this town who would stop by just to visit.

Hilda sat down in the chair and stretched out her legs. “So how have you been getting along?”

“Okay, I guess.” Macy hesitated, then decided to go ahead. “Hilda, my grandmother Douglas always believed there was something rotten going on with the police department concerning my father’s arrest. That they knew he was innocent but they arrested him and let a killer go free. Did you ever hear anything like that?”

Hilda looked thoughtful. “You know there was some talk about it, but I guess most of us just thought it was some of the political junkies stirring up trouble. Tell you what, why don’t you ask Nick? His father was a policeman back then.”

Macy stared at Hilda, feeling as if someone had just knocked the breath out of her. Nick’s father was a policeman? Why hadn’t he told her? She’d mentioned this to him a few times and he’d brushed her off, even defended the police. In fact, he had gotten upset when she questioned his version of the missing file. Just when she thought she’d found someone she could trust, she learned he’d been deceiving her the whole time.

“You mean Nick’s father might have been part of the cover-up concerning my parents? He certainly never mentioned to me his father was with the police. Wonder why?”

Hilda swung her head around to look at her. “Now, Macy. Get that look off your face. Nick had nothing to do with what happened back then. He was just a boy.”

“No, but I’ve brought this up, and he just sort of ignored me, pushed it aside. Maybe his father was involved. I believe Nick Baldwin has some explaining to do.”

Half an hour later, Hilda left, still protesting that she was sure Nick hadn’t been trying to hide anything from Macy, and stressing that she was sorry she had brought it up. Macy let her go without arguing, but she had something to discuss with Nick Baldwin. If he came by this afternoon, the way he usually did, he was going to tell her about his father, whether he wanted to or not.

She spent the rest of the day alternately working herself into frenzy and then attempting to calm down until she heard what Nick had to say. The trying to calm down part didn’t seem to be working well so far.

When he arrived shortly after he got off work, she met him at the door. She’d listen to what he had to say, but it had better be good. “Let’s sit out here.”

He raised his eyebrows, and she knew her tone of voice and probably her expression had warned him that something was wrong. She took a chair, and waited until he sat down before starting in. “Hilda was here today.”

“Oh?” He looked wary. “That’s nice. Is that what got you riled up?”

She pinned him a straight look. “No, I told her that my grandmother thought the police were involved in railroading my father, and she just happened to mention that your father was a member of the police force back then. Funny you never bothered to bring it up.”

His expression turned thoughtful, and he nodded his head. “I figured that would come up sometime. I didn’t mention it because I wanted to see what I could find out first.”

“And did you find anything?” Macy heard the skepticism in her voice and knew he caught it, too, but she didn’t care. Right now she felt betrayed by someone she was beginning to believe she could trust. She watched as he shook his head.

“No, not yet, but I’m still looking. If it’s out there, I’ll find it.”

“I don’t doubt it, but will you make it public, or will it just be your little secret?”

He stared at her. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Right now I don’t know what I think. If you were playing it straight it seems like you would have told me the truth.”

His expression hardened. “Why would I do that? You obviously had already decided that anyone connected with the police department was corrupt. Would you have been willing to listen to reason?”

Macy stiffened. “I am a reasonable person. I believe I’d have listened.”

“Not if it concerned your father, you wouldn’t. You have your mind made up and you’ve found the police here guilty without any proof. Well, this is my father, and I have a right to defend his memory just like you do with yours. If I learn he was involved in any kind of cover-up, I’ll tell the truth. Until then I won’t listen to anyone run him down.”

She stood up. “Fine. I believe we understand each other. I’ll keep searching for the truth, and if it involves your father, so be it.”

Nick got to his feet. “That works for me. I’ll keep looking, too, and if I find your father was guilty, that’s the way it will be.”

He strode down the steps and toward his car.

Macy stared after him. What had she done? She should have been more polite, more subtle, instead of behaving as if she thought he had deliberately lied to her. But then on second thought, he hadn’t been honest. He had hidden the truth from her, knowing how she felt.

Nick Baldwin had betrayed her. He deserved every word she had said, and more.

So why was she crying?

* * *

Nick sat in his living room with the TV blaring the evening news, not really hearing or seeing anything on the screen. Hands wrapped around his coffee mug, he stared blankly into space, reviewing his confrontation with Macy in his mind.

He understood how she felt, understood her blind, unswerving devotion to her father, but he couldn’t betray his father, either. Before he could bring accusations against his own kin for anything, he had to have proof. Yes, his dad had been a policeman, a good one. None better. He’d stake his life on that. Angus Baldwin had left the police force the year after Megan Douglas was killed.

Nick paused, struck by that. Why had his father stopped being a police officer? Did it have anything to do with Megan’s death? Three years later his father had been killed in a sawmill accident. Nick was sixteen years old, and he could still feel the agonizing pain of losing the man he’d loved and looked up to.

He turned off the television and stepped out on the deck, staring up at the sky. A full moon showered the world with silver light. Stars gleamed in a dazzling display. A soft breeze brought a hint of honeysuckle. He stared at the beauty of the night, knowing he was in over his head. This case was turning way too personal. Was his love for his father blinding him to reality? Could the police actually have been playing dirty back then? No, he couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it without absolute proof. To do otherwise was totally unthinkable.

What would he do if he actually turned up the proof? Could he indulge in his own cover-up? No. He couldn’t. Nick sent a silent prayer upward.
God, help me learn the truth about what took place back then, no matter how much it hurts.

He wished nothing had happened to stir up this mess. But then he wouldn’t have met Macy. Just knowing her, being with her, had enriched his life more than he would have believed possible. And now they were in danger of being torn apart by the secrets of their past. Somehow he had to unlock those secrets, find out exactly what had happened, including the parts both their fathers had played.

Nick leaned on the railing, staring at the shadowed yard, praying God would show him the way. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake. If he was the one who turned up evidence proving Steve Douglas had killed his wife, he could lose Macy...if he hadn’t already. No, he couldn’t let that happen. She was right. He should have told her the truth earlier. Somehow, he’d make it up to her.

Something sailed past his head, thudding on the floor of the deck. Nick dropped to the floor, reaching automatically for the gun he’d left in the living room. A rock lay about two feet away from him with something tied to it. He reached for the rock, closing his hand around the rough exterior. His pocketknife made short work of the string, and he unfolded the paper, reading the scrawled words.

If you’re smart, you’ll stay away from Macy Douglas. I don’t want to hurt you.

FOURTEEN

M
acy threw back the covers, unable to sleep. She kept seeing Nick’s face, hearing the things he’d said...and the way she had reacted. She understood how he must feel about his father, but she had a father, too, one who had died in prison.

She wandered through the upstairs, lonely and a little intimidated by the silence. The house was more familiar now, but she still didn’t feel completely comfortable here, especially at night.

Macy paused in the doorway of her parents’ room, thinking about going in, then changed her mind and moved on to Grandma Lassiter’s room. Nothing in there held her interest, so she stepped down the hall to the child’s room, the room that had been hers once upon a time. Back when life was good, and she was a young girl wrapped in her parents’ love.

The phone rang, and she rushed back to Opal’s room to answer. “Hello?”

Silence.

She tried again. “Hello?”

A long pause, then a voice, harsh, contorted, sounding not quite human, rasped in her ear. “Two women died in that house. You’ll be the third.”

“Who is this?” Macy demanded.

Click.

Macy sat on the bed, holding the receiver, too stunned to replace it. Two women. And she’d be the third? So were the two women her mother
and
her grandmother? Did that mean her grandmother hadn’t died a natural death, either? Had there been two murders in this old house?

Who had been on the other end of that call? As always, the voice sounded strange, as if something had been used to disguise the sound of it—so she wouldn’t know who was harassing her. Which probably meant the caller was someone she’d met and whose voice she would recognize.

According to Nick, some of the techniques available could even change the gender of the voice. So was her caller a man or a woman? Now she wasn’t sure. Who did she know that would do this? Anita Miles? Macy could see her making the calls. She was arrogant enough to think she could get away with anything. Even murder? Quite possibly. And yes, Anita’s name was on her list.

Macy finally went back to her room, not to sleep, but to lie awake staring at the ceiling, going over the names of the people who might have a reason to make threatening phone calls to her. The list was too short for comfort, but her mother’s killer would be the one with the most to lose. It was time to stop worrying about the political end of things and concentrate on who had a reason to kill Megan Douglas.

She needed to go deeper, talk to people who had known her mother, find out more about her life here. The problem was finding people who wanted to talk to her. Most of the people she’d met either didn’t want to get involved or turned on her for being her father’s daughter.

God, help me, please. I don’t know where to turn, what to do next. I’m just stumbling in the dark.
She’d driven Nick away and now God was all she had left to rely on. The danger she faced was too real, too terrifying. If God didn’t help her, she wouldn’t survive.

Midmorning, she was sitting at the kitchen table reading the trial transcript again, hoping something would jump out at her. Something that would point away from her father. She wished Nick could be sitting at the table with her so they could share thoughts, but for now that was out of the question. Without him her life seemed so empty. But he didn’t want anything to do with her now.

Neva entered the kitchen, and Macy stared at her in surprise. “The door was locked. How did you get in?”

Neva smiled and shrugged. “I found an extra key the other day. I didn’t think you’d mind if I took it.”

Macy looked at her, stunned. Hadn’t she refused to give this woman a key when she asked? What was this all about? And the only spare key was in the top drawer of her father’s desk where she had placed it. Had Neva been going through the drawers?

“Look, Neva. I’m still getting used to this house. It makes me nervous for anyone to be able to just walk right in. How about giving that key to me. I’ll be here to open the door whenever you arrive.”

And what was she doing here, anyway? It wasn’t her day to clean.

Neva stared at her, not saying anything.

Macy held out her hand. “The key?”

After a moment Neva held out the key and Macy took it, hoping she hadn’t made extras. Why was she so determined to have a key? Did she have one before? But then the old one wouldn’t work on the new locks.

“Look, Macy. I didn’t mean anything wrong with the key. I really had forgotten you were still nervous about being here. To tell the truth, I don’t blame you. The house is too big and too quiet. I understand completely.”