Dangerous Inheritance (20 page)

Macy’s eyes twinkled with humor. “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll try to be a little easier to get along with, and not be so quick to mouth off.”

Nick laughed. “I like a spunky woman. You say whatever you want to. I’m big enough to handle it.”

That was one of the many reasons he cared about her. She was a fighter, willing to take a risk if she had to. More and more he thought of what it would be like to have a strong woman like Macy standing beside him, facing whatever life threw at them. Two hearts bound together by the kind of love his father and mother had shared, raising a family together. Was that in their future? Or was it an impossible dream?

Macy interrupted his musing with a question. “Seriously, Nick, who do you think could have killed my mother?”

He puffed out a breath of air. “I don’t know, but I’m beginning to think it might not have anything to do with your father. It might have been someone with a grudge toward Megan. Have you learned the name of anyone who might have had something against her?”

“No, but there’s something else you don’t know. I had another phone call. He said that two women had died in this house. I would be the third.”

Nick’s blood ran cold. She would be the third? He wanted to get her out of here, but he knew it would be a waste of time to try to persuade her, and she wouldn’t let him stay. He knew better than to ask. She was obsessed with learning the secrets of this house, thinking it held the key to her mother’s death, and maybe she was right. Regaining her memory could be their best chance to find the killer. If only it wasn’t so dangerous. He pulled his attention back to Macy.

“He said two women had died? He must have meant Opal and Megan.”

“Which makes me wonder about my grandmother Lassiter. Was there anything suspicious about her death?”

Nick shook his head, trying to think. “Not that I know, but it’s something to look into.”

“Will you check into it?”

“I sure will. And I’ll talk to Sam and see where we go from here. Talk to her doctor, see what he has to say. I’ll get on it right now.” At least he had something to work on. But if there had been anything suspicious, why hadn’t anyone said so? He remembered what Hilda had said, that Opal had changed. She seemed to be thinking someone other than Steve had killed Megan. Had she found something that had pointed to a killer? If so, had she been murdered, too?

“What about an autopsy? Would that help?” Macy asked.

“Not really. After a body has been embalmed, unless there’s an obvious reason for the cause of death, like a gunshot it might not show what we need to know.”

“Well, it was just a thought,” Macy said. “But if it won’t work, then it would be an expensive waste of time.”

Nick got to his feet and she stood to face him. Almost automatically he reached out for her. She took a step toward him, and he caught her in his arms, pulling her against him. She was so warm, so alive. He had to keep her that way. The thought of her being here alone, of anything happening to her, made him sick to his stomach.

She raised her face to look at him, and his lips met hers, soft, tender, so sweet. He held her closer, hating to let her go. Nick felt a surge of emotion, so strange and sweet it almost overwhelmed him. Macy. She’d walked into his life and changed it in ways he had never imagined would happen. She snuggled closer and their lips met again. He wanted to stay here with her but there were things he needed to do, people he wanted to talk to.

He’d kissed other women, had dated some, but no one had gotten close to him the way Macy had. And now that he’d fallen in love with Macy, he was in danger of losing her. He couldn’t let that happen. Someone out there had to have the information he needed, and he was going to find it before anything else happened.

Before anything happened to the woman he loved.

* * *

Macy followed Nick to the door, her lips still warm from his kiss. She couldn’t deny it any longer. She was in love with Nick Baldwin, but he hadn’t mentioned love, and she didn’t want to be the first to say it. Besides, she was in danger. She had to distance herself from him until this was settled. She couldn’t bear it if she caused anything to happen to Nick.

She closed the door behind him and turned, intending to walk back to the living room. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. A blinding flash of memory hit her like a hammer blow. Childish laughter, a young voice crying out, “Again. Swing me higher, Daddy.”

Macy slumped down to the bottom stair, tears flooding her eyes as the memory rose from deep inside her. It had been so strong, so compelling, she could almost believe she had actually heard it.

She had run to her father and he had picked her up, swinging her high in the air. She had felt so safe, so...loved. If she never learned anything else, living in this house was giving her back her father and mother.

She was beginning to remember.

Macy believed with all her heart God was helping her recall her life in this house. He’d help her remember her mother’s killer, too. He would help her recall that fatal night and the name of the monster who had crept into this house, bent on destroying her family.

That night, she decided for the first time to sleep in the child’s room, in the bed where she slept when she lived here. At first she had trouble going to sleep, but eventually weariness overcame her.

Voices.

Shouting.

It’s your fault. You brought this on yourself.
A voice filled with hatred. The sound of something being overturned.

Macy woke to find herself halfway down the stairs. She gripped the banister, staring down at the place where she had been found unconscious with a fireplace poker lying beside her. Sinking down to sit on the step, she wiped at the tears cascading down her cheeks. That was why she had come downstairs that night. She had heard the voices, the shouting, the horrible sounds of her mother’s death. She’d tried to stop it, had run toward the living room, but there the memory stopped, short of letting her see her mother’s killer.

Why, God? Why can’t I see what happened? Help me, please.

She knew she had come one step closer, but would she take that final step—remember what happened that night before the killer could strike again? She had a feeling someone was plotting to enact the scene once more.

And this time, she would lose more than just her memories.

SIXTEEN

M
acy was in her father’s office going through a box of papers she had found in an upstairs closet. So far she hadn’t discovered anything important, but at least she was getting a better idea of her parents and their lives from the little information she had been able to gather.

The doorbell rang and Macy got up to answer. She opened the door to find Anita Miles standing there. For an instant she wanted to slam the door and walk away. As hateful as this woman was, Macy didn’t even want her in the house. But common sense won the battle. Find out what Anita wanted first. But she wasn’t up to faking a smile or acting nice.

“Yes?”

Anita gave her a hard stare. “I want to talk to you.”

“Fine. Talk.”

Anita shook her head. “Not standing out here. I’m coming inside, so get out of my way.”

Macy gave her an incredulous stare. Get out of her way? This woman needed a book on manners. “Who do you think you
are
, talking to me like that? This is my home, and you don’t come in unless you can behave.”

Anita hesitated, then shrugged. “All right. I guess I came on a bit strong. I want to talk to you. May I come inside and the two of us sit down and discuss it like adults?”

“Well, that’s a little better, but not much.” Macy stepped back and let her enter. “Go into the living room. It’s the first door on the right.”

Macy followed, watching as Anita looked around as though she was taking inventory. She stopped in front of the fireplace, looking at the pictures on the mantel. Macy, totally fed up with her behavior, sat down in one of the gold brocade chairs and pointed to the other. “Sit down and speak your piece, then get out. I don’t want you here.”

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t,” Anita sneered. “You don’t want to accept the truth about your father. I don’t blame you. He wasn’t anything to be proud of.”

Macy shot to her feet. “I’ve heard from a few people who believe you deliberately lied about him at the trial because he wouldn’t have anything to do with you. I can see why. He had better taste than that.”

Anita’s eyes narrowed and her face flushed. “Better taste? That from Megan Douglas’s kid? If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was her talking. Like mother like daughter. And neither one worth worrying about.”

Macy pointed toward the door. “Get out of here and don’t come back.”

Anita leaned back in the chair, smiling smugly. “I don’t think so. Not until I say what I came to say, and then when I’m ready, I’ll leave.”

Macy stood by the fireplace, hands on her hips. “Then say it, and get it over with.”

“I had a visit from Nick Baldwin the other day. It seems you’ve pointed suspicion in my direction. I want you to call off the cops, and do it now.”

“What makes you think I have any control over the police? I had no idea he had been to see you. What did he want?”

“He insinuated that I might have something to do with Megan’s death. As if I’d dirty my hands on her.”

Macy took a step toward her. “That’s enough. You leave now.”

“Are you going to make me?”

“Are you ready to find out?” Macy stepped closer. “Are you the one who beat my mother to death and hit me in the head with a poker? If so, I want you out of this house. You want to leave while you can, or do you want me to call the police?”

Anita looked at her for a minute then got up. “All right, I’ll leave. But this isn’t over. And I see you have Neva Miller working for you. She’s had an interesting life. Get her to tell you about it sometime.”

She walked toward the door and Macy followed, wanting to make sure she actually left. After closing and locking the door behind Anita, Macy returned to the office, feeling a little ashamed of herself. Yes, Anita had it coming, but that didn’t give
her
the right to behave like that.
God, help me to control my temper and my mouth.
And that wasn’t the first time she’d had to pray that prayer. Still, she felt a perverse enjoyment remembering the look on Anita’s face at the idea of someone actually daring to confront her.

The phone rang and she jerked around to stare at it, not wanting to answer. No one had called to threaten her lately, but the phone had rung several times where no one said anything. Just silence, heavy breathing and then the sound of someone hanging up. She walked slowly to pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

No answer. She tried again. “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

Silence. Then a mocking laugh, followed by a click. Ending the call.

* * *

Nick stopped by, and it was great to see him get out of his patrol car and saunter toward the house. It was so good to be back on a friendly basis with him. From the casual way he was moving, Macy suspected nothing had happened to upset him. He approached the house looking so strong and capable it made her feel safe, just watching him. Having Nick in her life was one of God’s greatest blessings.

Nick climbed the steps and sat down, smiling at her. “You doing okay?”

“I guess. How about you?” She was even better now that he’d arrived. Just looking at him set her pulse racing. Sometimes it felt as if she hadn’t really lived to her full potential before she met Nick. If nothing else came of this venture, she still had the pleasure of getting to know him.

“I’m all right. I talked to Sam and discussed Opal Lassiter with her doctor. Dr. Hill was surprised when she died. He was just treating her for allergies and some mild arthritis. Nothing serious.”

“Hilda said almost the same thing. She’d talked to her earlier that night before she went to bed and she seemed to be all right. So maybe she didn’t just die, maybe someone killed her, but I really hate to think that. Everyone I’ve talked to said she was a good woman. What could anyone have against her?”

“She might have learned something about Megan. If someone helped Opal to die, we owe it to her to learn about it.”

“That’s the way I feel, but I’m praying it was from natural causes. I really don’t want to think someone murdered her, too. I asked Hilda if she told the police how she felt, and she said no, it didn’t come up, and she’d never heard any rumors that anything might have been wrong.”

“It’s kind of far-fetched, but possible I guess,” Nick said, but had the police messed up on a second death connected to the Douglas family? “Anything else happen?”

“Anita dropped by, accusing me of sending you to question her. And then Neva warned me that if my father was innocent, someone out there had a reason to shut me up, and if I kept causing trouble I might be lucky to get out of town alive. That I could be painting a big target on my back, just asking someone to come after me.”

Every time she repeated that it sent a shiver up her spine. There were too many ways to kill someone. She couldn’t be on guard against all of them.

Nick looked troubled. “I hate to think it, but she might be right. Anita’s complaints aren’t important, but we need to take every precaution to keep you safe.”

She held up a hand, stopping him. “If you’re leading up to suggesting I stay somewhere else, just where would you suggest I’d be safer? In a motel? You know better. And I’m not about to go to Hilda’s, although she’s tried to get me to. There’s no way I’m going to put her in danger.”

She knew Hilda and Nick were right. She should move out of this house, but something seemed to hold her here. If only she could remember what happened that night, remember the killer’s face, she could bring this search to a close. She had to try, regardless of the personal cost.

He sighed. “I guess you’re right. We don’t know who we’re looking for, so there’s no way to protect you no matter where you are. But you keep the house locked at all times, and keep your cell phone within reach. I’m not sure where this is leading, but I have a hunch we’re starting to worry someone.” A very dangerous someone.