Dangerous Inheritance (8 page)

She rubbed her forehead, as though she had a headache coming on. “There’s so much I don’t know, and I have no idea where to start. I’m not finding anything here. At least not so far.”

“Don’t give up. We’re just starting to ask questions. We’re bound to learn something.”

“Is Sam still so opposed to me being here? I have to wonder what he’s afraid of. My other grandmother believed the police had a hand in making sure my father was convicted. That they knew he was innocent, but they protected a guilty man.”

Nick sat looking at her, trying to figure out how to deal with this. He’d heard the same thing from Sam, but everything within him denied the very concept. He couldn’t accept it—refused to believe it. All his life he had tried to live up to what his father had been, always feeling he fell short. Macy was watching him, as if she wondered why he wasn’t saying anything. The question in her eyes sent his mind reeling. Somehow he had to come up with something that sounded positive.

He shook his head, denying her accusation. It was one thing for him to be forced to think about it. It was something else to hear her say it out loud. Before he could openly admit it was a possibility, he’d need some very strong proof, and that proof wasn’t out there. He’d stake his life on that.

“That’s a serious charge. I’d go easy on saying things like that until you have more information. You need the police on your side, and this is no time to build walls between us. If you expect to learn the truth, you’ll need our help.”

She stared at him, and from the little he’d learned about her, he knew she’d be too stubborn to back down. He had to try, though. “Look, Macy, you’ve cut out a difficult enough job for yourself. Don’t complicate it any more than you have to by taking on the police department. Wait until you know more about what you’re facing, okay?”

He waited, hoping she’d agree. He wanted to do some digging on his own concerning the trial, and he didn’t want her slowing him down. And he definitely didn’t want her or anyone else even hinting his own father was involved. His dad had been a decent man, a good, staunch Christian. Angus Baldwin wouldn’t have done anything that went against what he believed in and stood for.

Nick took a deep breath, staring down at the table, struck by sudden doubt. He quickly pushed the thought aside. He was right. He had to be.

Learning he was wrong would rip him apart.

Macy folded her mother’s dress and placed it on the table. Nick watched, noticing her tense expression. Living here had to be hard on her. He couldn’t do anything about that, but he’d make every effort to find out who was harassing her and put a stop to it. That was his job as a policeman. No, someone was doing more than harassing her. The person was threatening her, actually raising the possibility that her very life was at stake. He couldn’t just walk away and forget that.

He also couldn’t forget the way Macy had felt in his arms. Soft, sweet and as if she belonged there. Somehow he had to learn the truth about her mother’s murder, not just focus on what he believed to be true, but make a concerted effort to learn the real role the police had played in the investigation. And he had to find a way to keep her safe. A tall order and one he couldn’t accomplish without God’s help.

Nick knew his own limits. Some things he might be able to pull off, some he couldn’t, but God didn’t have limits. A phrase from last week’s church sermon flickered through his mind.
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
He had a feeling the time had come to put his faith to work.

A few minutes later a truck pulled into the driveway and locksmith Joe Tipton got out. Nick introduced him to Macy, wondering whether he’d be friendly or resentful because she was Steve Douglas’s daughter. The town was so divided that it was impossible to anticipate anyone’s behavior. But if Joe had reservations about Macy, or visiting the Douglas house, he probably would have come up with an excuse to stay away. Nick watched, ready to step in if necessary.

Joe wiped a hand on the seat of his pants and held it out. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Macy. I was a friend of your dad’s. He was a good man. Didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Macy gripped his hand, smiling. “It’s good to hear you say that. Not many people I’ve met in Walnut Grove speak of him that way.”

Joe nodded his head. “You just pay them no never mind. Some people don’t have a lick of sense where politics are concerned. Your mom and dad were good people and someone in this town knows more about what happened that night than they’ve bothered to tell. There was some dirty work going on, you can be sure on that.”

Nick decided he’d talk to Joe later. Maybe he knew something that could help them. Or if not, he might know someone who did. At least it would be a place to start. He decided not to dwell on what Joe had implied—that something hadn’t been on the level with Steve’s arrest. That was another thing he’d ask when Macy wasn’t around. Regardless of how he felt personally, he had to at least check into the possibility.

He didn’t really have a choice. It was his job as a police officer and his duty as his father’s son.
Do the best you can and do it right.
He’d heard his father say it too many times to ignore it now. That was the way he’d been brought up.

He’d never heard anything against the police in all his years of living here. Now the accusations seemed to be coming from all directions. Somehow he would get to the bottom of this, and he suspected when he found the truth it would confirm that Steve Douglas was guilty of murder. He’d do all he could to help Macy because he felt sorry for her, but he’d also do all he could to clear his father’s name, too. That had to be his main focus.

Nick hovered over Joe, wanting to help, but not knowing where to start. He wasn’t all that good at mechanical work. All he’d ever wanted was to be a policeman like his dad. Now it was all he really knew how to do. Maybe he should make an effort to learn to do practical stuff. It might come in handy someday. Right now he felt sort of useless, particularly in front of Macy Douglas. But since he didn’t have a clue how to help, maybe he should just get out of the way and let Joe work.

It took a while to change the locks and install a new alarm, but Nick felt better when it was finished. Knowing the house was secure made him feel more comfortable about leaving Macy here alone. What had happened today had upset him more than he wanted to let on. If someone could get in a locked house in broad daylight, nothing could stop a person from getting in at night.

Something else occurred to him. They didn’t know whether this was the burglar who had been trying to get in, or someone else. And how did whoever it was get hold of a key? Maybe more than one person was after Macy. This was getting complicated.

Joe was a good man who knew what he was doing. Nick didn’t have any doubts about that. His work would hold up. No one would get in this house now without setting off the alarm and rousing the neighbors. At least they’d be alerted if someone got in, and then they would do what they could to secure the house. Maybe it was a good thing that someone had tipped his hand by entering and leaving the message today. It had given them a chance to make sure that couldn’t happen again.

As soon as Joe was satisfied the house was protected, Macy paid him. He left and Nick handed Macy the keys to both the front and back doors. “Here you go. That should solve the problem.”

Or one problem, anyway. They still had plenty of others to deal with. And when he left here he had to drop by the office and file a report.

Macy took the keys, closing her hand around them as if she held a special treasure, her expression showing the relief she felt.

“Thank you for all you’ve done. I feel so much better knowing I have new locks and a working alarm. I don’t think I could have stayed here tonight without them.”

Nick gazed at her, thinking a man could drown in the sea-green depths of her eyes. He’d like nothing better than to just stand here enjoying her company, but he was on duty tonight. “Are you going to be all right now? Don’t force yourself to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

She nodded, the movement making the gleaming strands of her hair shimmer in the overhead light. “It took a while for me to calm down, but I’m fine now. Having you and Joe here helped a lot.”

Him and Joe? That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Nick puffed out a sigh involuntarily. What had he expected? After all, she barely knew him. He spoke reluctantly, wishing he could stay with her longer, but he had to get to work before Sam called, checking on him. “I guess I need to go now.”

Was that disappointment he caught in her eyes? His heart jumped at the thought. “Look, Macy. You keep your phone handy and if you need help, call. I’ll be here as fast as I can. I’ll also drive by occasionally to make sure everything’s all right.”

“I will, Nick, I promise. And it’s good of you to do that. I really appreciate it.”

Her smile dazzled him. He reached out hesitantly, brushing a stray curl off her forehead. It was just as soft and silky as he had expected it to be. A cold wave of reality washed over him—he had to leave before this situation reeled out of control. Getting involved personally with Macy was the last thing he should do. He backed up a couple of steps. “Okay, if there’s nothing else, I’d better get to work. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

Nick closed the door behind him and walked to his car, thinking about Macy. He hated leaving her alone like that, but it was time to go, and not just because he was on patrol. He needed time to sort out his feelings. He was torn over the necessity of helping Macy and still protecting his father’s reputation. Would he have to choose between the two of them?

The way he felt was totally new to him. Macy had invaded his life in a way he hadn’t expected. He’d been a cop for several years. Macy wasn’t the first woman in distress he’d met. Nor the only beautiful one he’d seen, but there was something about her that muddled up his thinking.

If he was going to help her, he needed a clear head. For both of their sakes, he had to back off, concentrate on finding out who was trying to harm her. He had to learn more details about Megan Douglas’s murder and what made the police so sure her husband had killed her...before Macy paid the price.

SEVEN

T
wo days later Macy poured herself a glass of tea and sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the items she’d found in her grandmother’s bedroom closet. A medium-size box, a cardboard file and a photo album. She swallowed a gulp of tea and reached for the shallow box first, sending up a silent prayer that something in here would hold information she needed. Macy pulled the box into her lap and turned back the flaps.

Letters. The box was full of them.

All addressed to her.

Not one had been opened, but each had been stamped “Return to Sender.” Macy’s hand flew up to cover her mouth in disbelief. Her stomach clenched. Here was proof that Hilda had told the truth. Her grandmother Lassiter had tried to stay in touch, but grandmother Douglas had blocked the attempts. No matter how much she hated to believe the evidence, she couldn’t deny what was in front of her.

Macy bowed her head, cradling the box in her arms. Hot tears splattered on the cardboard and the envelopes. The grandmother she had known and loved, the woman who raised her, had done this. A sob ripped from her throat. How could she have done something so cruel?

Macy had known this search for the truth might lead to information that could hurt her, but never had she imagined this searing pain of betrayal. Grandma Douglas had kept these letters a secret—kept Macy from her mother’s family. In addition to the seven years she’d forgotten, an additional seventeen years of life with her other grandmother had been stolen by someone she trusted.

After getting her emotions under control, she reached for the box again. Her hand trembled as she used a paring knife to slit open an envelope. She hesitated for a moment, breathing deeply, before removing the contents and slowly unfolding the sheet of paper. The words struck her like a hammer blow.

My darling Macy,

I don’t suppose you’ll ever see this, just as you’ve never seen any of the other letters I’ve written, and Mattie has apparently blocked my calls in some way. But I can’t give up trying to reach you.

I just want to tell you that I love you and I miss you terribly. What happened wasn’t your fault, but you have paid a high price for it.

I pray that someday we’ll meet again.

Your loving grandmother Opal.

Macy gently placed the letter on the table and leaned back in her chair. Moments passed until she could get herself under control enough to sit up and open her eyes. After a few more minutes ticked by she managed to read a couple more, finding they were similar to the first. Her grandmother Opal wanted to see her, and Grandma Mattie had stood in the way. She was just beginning to understand how deeply the current of grief and rage had rampaged through their lives, like an underground torrent, destroying everything in its way.

How could such an overwhelming anger and hatred so totally consume a person? But then again, Mattie Douglas’s son had been arrested and sent to prison for a crime she was convinced he’d never committed. He’d died there and she never saw him again. Until the funeral.

She wouldn’t have had the money or the transportation to go see him, and she had been obsessed with protecting Macy from knowing what had happened to her parents.

Macy could understand how her grandmother must have felt, even though she Macy resented what it had done to
her
. She got up and strode toward the window. Her grandmother Lassiter had lived in this house. Lived alone. She had written loving letters to her granddaughter, made an effort to stay in touch, hoping at least one letter would get through the blockade.