Skeleton's Key (Delta Crossroads Trilogy, Book 2) (25 page)

“Sure. But that room hadn’t been abandoned very long. Meaning someone was hanging out upstairs while you were on the job.”

He dropped back against the chair. “How did I not know?”

“You work a lot of night shifts,” Jaymee said. “You worked inside Ironwood during the day. Small town. Easy to find out. Whoever it is was probably creeping around when you were on shift.”

“Maybe.” Didn’t change the fact that whatever had happened had probably gone down on Cage’s watch.

Jaymee kicked his foot. “You said you found something out today. Care to share?”

Cage eyed the vodka bottle and wished he could have a drink. “I talked to Billy at the coroner’s office.” He quickly ran through the information from the intern, saving the best for last. “Pretty sure Dani’s right about what the victims were doing at Ironwood.”

“Why?” Dani drained the last of her drink.

“Because one of them had a cameo brooch in his pocket.”

Dani surged forward. “Was it old? Or a cheap replica?”

“A jeweler in Jackson specializing in antique jewelry said that judging from the shell and inlay, it dates back to the 1890s, possibly the turn of the century. More importantly, it’s one-of-a-kind.”

“How could they tell that?” Dani asked. “There are all different kinds of cameos, and a lot of them were mass produced by that time.”

“Because the picture isn’t of a woman or anything else you’ve seen on a brooch. It’s of the front steps of Ironwood.”

Dani stared, mouth open slightly, hands tight against her knees.

“You’re sure?” Jaymee asked.

“Jeweler says the design on the brooch matches the front facade of Ironwood. Gina sent her pictures.”

“And Gina shared that with you?” Jaymee’s expression had reverted back to disapproving sourpuss.

“Of course not. Billy’s in the loop.”

“Nice, Cage. You’ll probably end up costing the kid his job.”

“Oh bull,” Cage said. “Everyone else in this town talks, and he’s got his own mind. He didn’t have to–”

“Who cares?” Dani jumped to her feet. The shock had evaporated, leaving her with a slightly crazed look. “I need my computer.” She hurried into the hall and quickly returned with her laptop. Fingers tapping even more rapidly than she could speak, she punched something into the computer. “Come on, load. Your Internet is slow down here.” She waved her hand. “Sorry, sorry.”

She turned the laptop around to face Cage and Jaymee. “This is a picture of CaryAnne Laurent. It’s in the family files at the historical foundation and is dated around 1894.”

CaryAnne Laurent stared back at Cage for the first time. Her eyes were light, her skin nearly as fair as Dani’s and looked porcelain smooth. Her hair could have been dark blond or brown, pulled back into an ornate twists with the sides pinned in soft waves. Delicate features, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth–CaryAnne had been beautiful. In the middle of her high-collared dress was the cameo brooch.

“So the victims were going through the house.” Jaymee looked to Cage for confirmation.

“I don’t think they were just going through the house.” Dani paced, apparently a habit when she was excited. “This is something that would have been kept in a very special place, for sentimental if not monetary value.”

Now Jaymee was on her feet, the two women facing each other, both with wide eyes and scheming expressions that spelled trouble. Jaymee clapped her hands together while Dani did a funny dance on her tiptoes. “The cache.”

Dani nodded. “It’s real.”

“You think they found Ironwood’s hiding spot and were killed over it?” Cage didn’t like where the conversation was headed.

“What else is there?” Dani said. “Especially with what we’ve got to go on. A secret passage, an old pocket watch, a possible skeleton key, and a one-of-a-kind brooch.”

“Ironwood wasn’t randomly chosen as a dumping ground for these men,” Cage said. “Either our killer and the victims were working together, found the cache, and the killer got greedy, or he was ahead of them all along, and they infringed on his find.”

“What do you mean?” Jaymee asked.

“I hate to say it, but who else has access to the keys and unlimited time at the house? Besides me?”

“You’re talking about Lee.” Dani shook her head.

“The bottom line is that someone who knew that house better than anyone else killed those men. And going by what you found today, it sounds like someone who lived and breathed the place. Someone who would do anything to protect her. Or protect the fortune he’d spent years looking for.” Even as he said it, Cage couldn’t picture Lee Walker killing anyone. A heady sense of déjà vu struck him. He’d thought the same thing about another man two months ago when Jaymee had disappeared.

“You need to find out everything you can about Ironwood as it was when John James lived there.” Jaymee was talking almost as fast as Dani. “See if you can find the passage used to get into his bedroom. But for all we know, CaryAnne could have modernized and had the passage covered up.”

“The blueprints I have are reproductions,” Dani said. “The originals must be at the historical foundation. Maybe I can find something on them. I’m heading there first thing in the morning. And I’m meeting Ben at Oak Lynn for dinner tomorrow, so maybe I can find out some more information from Grace.” Her last words came out in a rush.

Cage’s stomach sank with the weight of a bucket of Mississippi river rock. “You realize you can’t tell Ben about anything you saw today, right? You shouldn’t have told us.”

“I trust you. And yes, I realize.”

“You need to remember something, Dani.” Cage insisted to himself he wasn’t speaking out of jealousy. She needed to know. “Money makes the world go ’round. Or the desperate spin in circles.”

“What?”

“So?” Jaymee said.

“You know Ironwood is the last unrestored antebellum left in Adams County, right?” Caged glanced between the two women, suddenly wondering when they’d gotten to be so close. Back on the couch, they sat knee to knee, both looking equally interested and irritated with him.

“So, it’s also got a prime location, close to a crossroads between Natchez and Roselea. You’ve only got three acres with the house. Know who owns the rest of the old cotton fields? The ones you can’t see beyond the thicket of woods that runs behind Ironwood and Oak Lynn?”

“Gina told me about Norton Investments and Ben Moore helping them buy the Semple Farm. And about the rumor they wanted to buy Ironwood too.” Dani rubbed her temples. “So I’m the house’s savior. But you still haven’t said what financial motive someone would have—”

“Ben Moore was brokering the deal between Norton Investments and Adams County Baptist.” Cage wanted to yank her off the couch and give her a shake. “He sent a lackey down here for meetings–didn’t want anyone to see him around. He was furious when the thing fell through. Guess he stood to make a mint. Norton Investments wants to put up a hotel, make Ben a partner. His mother would have been furious, but money’s always been his true love.”

“How did you find all this out?” Dani asked. “Lee hasn’t told me any of this. Why did he tell you first?”

Cage looked down at his feet. “Didn’t hear it from Lee.”

“Nick.” Jaymee said.

“Who’s Nick?”

“My boyfriend,” Jaymee said. “He’s an investigative reporter in Jackson. Can pretty much find any kind of dirt on anyone. That’s what this morning’s call was about?”

“Didn’t take him long, either,” Cage said. “And speaking of Lee, I’d like to know why the hell Lee Walker didn’t share any of this with me yesterday.”

“Because he knew you’d have a fit,” Jaymee said. “And he probably thought it didn’t matter. He likely had no idea Ben was back in town.”

“Fine,” Dani said. “So Ben doesn’t care about the historic relevance of Ironwood or Roselea for that matter. How is that motive for murder? And if he did kill those men, why bury them in a place he knew would no longer be abandoned?”

Cage scowled, and she held her hands up. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, or that you don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m saying I’m not connecting all the dots.”

“I don’t have all the answers yet,” Cage said. “And maybe he’s not the killer. But between his arrival, the letter, and now his wanting to help you search–he’s got to be considered a viable suspect. Think about it, please. He lost out on millions, Dani.” Cage let the words sink in. “But if Ironwood were to be up for sale again, say thanks to a new owner who discovered the unthinkable and just can’t handle the place, Ben’s in the perfect position to convince you to sell to Norton Investments. Pads his pockets. And if he’s the killer, he’s got an inside ticket to the investigation.”

Dani lowered her head. Her hands lay limp in her lap. She took a long breath and then exhaled. “All right then. So Ben’s officially an ass and maybe a killer. And I’m exhausted.” She stood up, directing her next words at Jaymee. “I’m going to crash. If I don’t talk to you before you leave in the morning, I’ll let you know what I find out at the foundation.”

She wouldn’t look at Cage as she passed. Disappointment swelled in his chest. He wanted to reach for her, say something. But what? Was she that attracted to Ben? He clenched his fists at the thought.

Jaymee suddenly appeared in front of him, and Cage took a step back in surprise. He’d forgotten she was in the room. That had to be a first.

“She’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe she’s this upset over Ben Moore, of all people.” The idea made his stomach recoil.

“It’s not Ben. It’s the idea she’s being used, and she didn’t realize it. Hurts. Let her process and talk to her tomorrow.”

As if he had any other choice. He swallowed over the building ache in his throat. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

Jaymee rolled her eyes. “Life experience, dummy.”

Dani rested her
forehead against the shower wall while the cool water rolled down her back. She didn’t know why she was so upset. Her attraction to Ben Moore was based on nothing but looks, and she’d had a bad feeling about his motives. And he wasn’t the one she really wanted to have dinner with.

Still, she’d been blinded. Not by Ben’s charm or handsome face, but by her own foolish notions of the Southern gentleman–a cliché that was as disrespectful as it was stupid. She should have known better. These people, this place, weren’t some fictional fairytale designed to fit Dani’s dreams. They were real people with real problems and real goodness and in some cases, real darkness.

Fine, then. She got it now.

Sleep tonight, start fresh tomorrow.

And Ben Moore wasn’t getting near her house.

B
eing part of
a small police force meant everyone had to work the occasional night shift, but Cage worked them more often than most. Normally he didn’t mind–nights were generally quiet save for the occasional drunken argument at the Lotus, the popular biker bar on the east side of town. But last night had been hellishly long. He’d spent his patrol driving around cursing Ben Moore and hoping Dani wouldn’t let him affect her anymore. She was a smart, savvy businesswoman. Too good for the likes of Ben.

At half past eight, the sun was bright and blazing, and Cage’s eyes begged to close. He made his way into the station for shift change thinking he’d crawl into his old bed at his parents’ and sleep until the afternoon. And not think about Dani Evans.

“Cage.” Gina stood outside her closet-sized office, mouth tight and arms crossed over her chest. “Got a minute?”

He was tempted to ask if she could wait, but the look in Gina’s eyes unnerved him. Something had happened.

“Sure.”

“Come in.” She closed the door, shutting out the busy morning. Small in stature, Gina still managed to cut an imposing figure in her uniform. Her grim face matched her rigid posture. Instead of sitting, she leaned against the side of her desk and motioned for Cage to take a seat.

She wanted to have the upper hand, he realized. His defenses snapped up. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve identified one of the men found buried at Ironwood. His prints were in the system.”

“Good.”

Gina held up a small digital recorder and then placed it on the desk. “This is an informal interview, but I need to have a record.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Cage’s insides overheated, his skin sticky and smelling of nervous sweat. He wasn’t afraid of what they’d found. More like the fact that they’d found anything they needed to talk to him about.

Gina pressed the ‘record’ button. “His name was Martin Robertson. From Hattiesburg. Name ring any bells?”

“No.”

She laid a file on the metal table. “This is a report filed by Officer Hendricks in March of last year. You rode with him for quite a while.”

“He’s a good guy.”

Gina slid on a pair of reading glasses. “Report says that you and Officer Hendricks arrested Martin Robertson on disorderly conduct.”

“All right.” Cage didn’t ask questions. He wasn’t about to give Gina anything she could run with.

“He caused some problems at The Lotus. Typical drill.”

“Sounds like it. Is there mention of why he was in town? Hattiesberg’s a decent haul.”

Gina ignored the question. “When you and Officer Hendricks brought him in for booking, Robertson started shooting his mouth off. Wondered if you were the same Cage Foster he’d heard about, the one whose sister up and got herself murdered.”

Roiling heat simmered in Cage’s belly. “I remember him.”

“Then you remember asking how he heard about Lana, and he said he’d had his connections. Even seen her pictures. He taunted you. And you reacted. Had it not been for Hendricks, you probably would have been hit with charges yourself that night.”

He shrugged.

“But that’s not what interests me.” Gina took off the glasses and set them next to the discarded file. “What interests me is that, per protocol, Hendricks noted in his report that you threatened to ‘wring Robertson’s neck and toss him out like trash’ if he kept running his mouth.”

His lips had gone dry. “Gina, that was a bad time. I was upset about Lana. Jaymee and I had been arguing. Dad was sick. I said something stupid.”