Dangerous Inheritance (7 page)

“So you’re sure Opal tried to contact Macy?”

“Of course I’m sure. I saw some of her letters. They were unopened and stamped ‘Return to Sender.’ I saw Opal cry over them.”

Nick thought about Macy and how positive she was that her grandmother Douglas wouldn’t do a thing like that. She was bound to find out the truth and he knew it would tear her apart. He hated thinking about it. Hilda was looking at him as if trying to decide whether to say something. He waited, giving her time.

She nodded as if she had reached a decision. “Look, Nick, there’s something I need to tell you. Along toward the end, Opal had acted strange. From some of the things she said, I got the impression she was changing her mind about a few things. Like maybe she was thinking someone other than Steve killed Megan.”

Nick stared at her, dumbfounded. This really wasn’t anything he wanted to hear. “Are you sure about that?” His voice came out harsher than he intended, but Hilda didn’t seem to notice.

“Reasonably sure. Of course, I don’t have any proof, but it’s something to think about.”

It was indeed, and he didn’t like the implications. Not after the things Sam had said. So had Opal Lassiter believed the police sent an innocent man to prison? Then who did she think had killed her daughter? And what had changed her mind? He was just getting started in the investigation, and what Hilda said about Opal was one more piece of information to mull over. Yes, he knew it was an option, but it was one he didn’t want to think about. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to ignore it, though. This was the second time someone had mentioned the possibility that the police had messed up the investigation back then. The accusations probably wouldn’t go away.

When Nick left Hilda’s he decided to drive by and see Macy again. Not that he had a reason, he just wanted to check on her. Since he was off duty until tonight, it wasn’t any of Sam’s business what he did. At least he could pretend to believe that anyway, until he got caught. Sam had a temper, and he’d been clear that he wanted Nick to stay away from Macy Douglas. Which was harder to do than he had expected. Something about her kept calling him back.

And he didn’t know how to deal with it.

SIX

A
bout mid-afternoon Macy decided if she didn’t want to live on TV dinners she needed to go to the store. Of course, there was a possibility she would run into someone who resented her being here, but that was a chance she had to take.

Macy drove to Anderson’s Market and went inside. She pushed her cart down the aisle, trying to decide what she wanted. After choosing fresh fruits and vegetables from produce, she headed for the meat department when a man who looked as though he was in his late sixties or early seventies stopped her.

“I hear you’re the Douglases’ daughter. I’m Garth Nixon.”

He eyed her as if he expected her to recognize the name, and after a moment she did. This was the man whose career her father was supposed to have ruined. From his expression, he still resented it.

She nodded. “Mr. Nixon, how are you?”

“I’m fine. But I want to know what you’re doing in this town. I hoped we’d seen the last of the Douglas family in Walnut Grove.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. But whatever my father did or did not do to you has nothing to do with me.” Unless of course he was the one who had killed her mother.

His eyes bored into hers. “It has everything to do with you. I hear you’re hoping to nail someone else for wiping out Megan. Well, you’re wasting your time. Steve Douglas was a vicious piece of trash who wouldn’t hesitate to destroy anyone who got in his way—including his own wife.”

“The way he is supposed to have destroyed you?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and as soon as they left her mouth, she knew she’d made a mistake. His face flushed so bright Macy wondered if he was going to have a heart attack right there in the grocery store, or if he would choke on what he was trying to say before he could get it out.

“Supposed? Supposed to have destroyed me? He ruined me, and for no reason other than he belonged to a different political party. He got just what he deserved, and from what I’ve heard, you’re just like him. We don’t need another Douglas in this town.”

He whirled and strode away, leaving her staring after him. She wouldn’t have believed the hatred he had for her father if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. Could he have been involved in making sure Steve Douglas went to prison? But his words haunted her.
Anyone who got in his way, including his own wife?
What could her mother have done that would have caused a problem serious enough to get her killed?

When she got home from the store, Macy decided to skip evening worship service. No way was she coming back to this house after dark. She had at least one enemy in Walnut Grove: the man who had called her. And Sam Halston wasn’t too thrilled with her being here. Neither were Raleigh Benson, her grandmother’s attorney, or that blonde at church this morning. Add whoever had been staring at her at the end of the worship service and Garth Nixon, and the list was growing.

She didn’t care how long the list was. Well, that wasn’t true. Of course she cared. She was scared stiff about half of the time, but no matter how people felt about her being here, she had things to do, and she needed to get busy. Since she had a couple of hours before dark, she’d spend the time going through the house, trying to find something that might stir some hidden memory, no matter how elusive.

Macy started with her parents’ bedroom, ready to tackle it in daylight, but a diligent search through the dresser and bedside tables revealed nothing. She stood for a moment, glancing around the room at the burgundy, blue and green floral queen-size bedspread and the walnut tables holding elegant lamps with crystal bases. A group of photographs was arranged on the chest of drawers, and she paused to look at them. One caught her attention, her father, her mother and her, the only photo of her father she had seen in this house. A picture flashed through her mind of the three of them in a park where there were swings and a slide.

They had been there the day of her mother’s murder.

Macy strained to recall more, but the memory had faded. She slumped down on the bed, burning with frustration. These brief flashes, just enough to give her a glimpse into her past, were tearing her apart.

Blinking back tears, she got up and turned to check the closet, not really expecting much, but at least she could look. She slid open the doors and discovered clothing for both a man and a woman hanging there, as if waiting for the people who owned them to come back.

Macy wiped her eyes. For seventeen years those forlorn-looking garments had been hidden behind the sliding wooden doors. Clothing her father and mother had worn. Her heart burned. She would never see her parents again, and she didn’t even have memories of them to comfort her.

She reached a trembling hand to remove a pale green dress of a soft, thin material from a padded hanger. Macy buried her face in its folds, and for a moment, the fragrance of lilacs seemed to hang in the air. She had a vivid memory of her mother wearing this dress, a memory of sunshine and laughter...and love.

Macy sank into a wicker rocker, holding the garment in her lap, struggling to remember more, but the memory was already dying. Finally, limp and dejected, she went downstairs, taking the dress with her. Halfway down she jerked to a stop.

The front door stood wide-open.

She had shut and locked that door, so how could it be open now, and who was here? Macy crept down the last few steps, trying to be as quiet as possible. The air crackled with tension. She paused on the bottom step, listening.

Silence.

But the house didn’t feel empty—no sound, no movement, just a sense of not being alone. Macy tiptoed to the living room doorway and glanced inside, but no one was there. A search of the other downstairs rooms revealed nothing out of the ordinary and no intruder. So who had unlocked the door? And where was the person now?

She finished searching the rooms, ending in the foyer again. A picture lay on the mahogany table. A picture of her father in prison clothes. Her eyes were drawn to a sheet of paper lying beside it and the words written there.

Steve Douglas got what he deserved. If you stay here, you’ll deserve what you get, too.

Macy caught her breath, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. That picture hadn’t been there when she came downstairs. She would have seen it. She stood rigid, straining to hear something. The house felt empty now, but she couldn’t be sure. She inched away from the picture, heart pounding. Still holding her mother’s dress, she backed toward the front door. The person who had left that picture could still be hiding here, waiting to attack as soon as she turned to run. She needed to get out of this house. Get to someplace safe. Macy slid one foot behind her, moving slowly.

Quietly.

She bumped against something solid...and alive. Arms closed around her. A warm breath tickled her hair. A deep baritone voice said, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

The pressure in her chest eased. She twisted around, coming face-to-face with Nick. His arms still held her close to him and a mischievous grin curved his lips. Suddenly his expression changed, his eyes narrowing.

“What’s wrong, Macy?”

“Someone was here.” She managed to get the words out, past a throat gone dry and gritty, as if she had swallowed sand.

“Where? Inside the house?”

She nodded, and he gently moved her aside. “Stay here. I’ll take a look.”

Macy caught his arm. “I think whoever it was is gone, but he left me a present.”

She indicated the picture and note, watching as he stepped toward the table. He didn’t touch either one, just leaned closer, examining them. Finally he turned to face her. “When did you find them?”

“Just now. I was upstairs and when I came down the door was open. I looked through the rooms, but I didn’t find anyone. When I came back through here I found the picture and saw the note. But it wasn’t there when I came downstairs. I’d have seen it.”

“So someone left it while you were checking out the rooms.” He touched the garment she held. “What have you got there?”

Macy looked down at the crumpled fabric clutched tightly in her arms. “A dress. It’s my mother’s. I remembered her wearing it. That’s all I remember, just that she wore it and I was with her.”

He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. “All right, let’s back up. You came downstairs and the front door was open. I assume you didn’t leave it ajar, is that right?”

Macy glanced at the door, feeling again the shock of finding it open. “No, I’ve been keeping it locked. I went upstairs to look around and when I came back it was standing open, but whoever opened it was hiding.”

The implications sank in. Someone could come and go in this house as he pleased. She could have been attacked, killed the way her mother had been, and no one would have had any idea who had done it. So did her mother’s killer have a key, and had he used it here? Had he used it that night? Or had he rung the doorbell and been invited in? She wondered where her father had been, and why he hadn’t been home with his wife and daughter.

She had too many questions, and no answers. Nick was talking, and she had missed it. “What? I didn’t catch that.”

He stared at her. “Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m not all right. I have enough trouble staying here without someone being able to come and go without my knowledge. How would you like that?”

“I wouldn’t.” He pulled out his cell phone. “And we’re going to do something about it right now. Let’s get your locks changed and the alarm fixed. You can’t stay here if someone can get in anytime they want to.”

Macy zeroed in on what he had said. “Get the alarm fixed? I’d forgotten you said my grandmother Lassiter had an alarm but it wasn’t working. What’s wrong with it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know anything about alarms, don’t have any idea how the things work, but the guy who was trying to break in back then did something to it. I’ll get Joe out here and he’ll make sure it’s fixed and show you how to use it.”

Macy considered this for about one second. “Get him here. I can’t spend the night in this house the way it is now.”

She had slept here thinking she was safe while someone could have unlocked the door and crept up the stairs to murder her in her bed. She shivered, suddenly chilled. That phone call. Could the person who had left the picture be the same one who had made the threatening call? What could have stopped him from sneaking up the stairs last night and killing her the way someone had killed her mother?

* * *

Nick made his call, and after he checked out the house to make sure it was clear he called the station and let them know what was going on. Then they waited in the kitchen for the locksmith to arrive.

Macy poured the last of the Pepsi, and they sat talking quietly, or Nick talked. Apparently Macy didn’t feel up to holding a conversation just yet. She still looked vulnerable and he noticed the way her hands trembled.

Nick felt guilty. He hadn’t meant to scare her like that, should have had more sense. He remembered the way his arms had closed around her, the way she had clung to him. Gradually she relaxed, growing calmer, as if she felt safer now that he was here. Or at least he liked to think she did. But he couldn’t stay. Sooner or later he would leave and she’d be here, alone and vulnerable. Just thinking about it worried him all over again.

Macy hesitated for a minute, her expression suddenly uncertain, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure. He waited. “Nick, where was my father the night my mother was killed? If he wasn’t here then he must have had an alibi for that time.”

Nick shook his head. “Look, Macy. It happened a long time ago. I was just a kid, and by the time I grew up it was old news. That’s one of the things we have to find out, but I haven’t had a chance to go through the file yet. I hope to get to that tomorrow. I’m off work until tonight and then I’ll be on patrol.” And he didn’t want Sam to catch him reading it. Not after he’d been warned to back off. No point in stirring up trouble between him and his boss until he had to.