by Terri Reed
Horror filled Samuel’s face as he held it up. “I’m so sorry, Caroline. I don’t know how that got in there.”
Don pinned him with a pointed look. “Someone has been trying to prevent Caroline from claiming her inheritance since she learned about it.”
Samuel’s gaze jumped between Caroline and Don. “It’s not me.”
Don crowded him. “You’re the only one who has anything to gain.”
Not shrinking away, Samuel turned to Caroline. “My dear, I wouldn’t ever try to hurt you,” he said with a plea in his voice. “Isabella was my sister. I loved her. As her child, you’re entitled to everything she would have inherited. I would never stand in the way of that. You must believe me.”
Irritated not to find a hint of guilt in the older man, Don’s jaw tightened. If Samuel wasn’t involved, then Don didn’t have any idea who was.
Caroline put a firm, restraining hand on Don’s arm and addressed her uncle. “Why didn’t you tell us about Dennis?”
Puzzlement twisted Samuel’s face. “Dennis? Do you mean Dennis Finch?
She nodded. “Yes. Dennis Jonathan Finch.”
Titling his head to the side, he asked, “What does he have to do with this? He died a long time ago.”
“Did you know my mother called him Johnny?”
For a long moment Samuel stared, his face paling. “I’d forgotten. She only did that when we were children.”
A faint smile touched Caroline’s lips. “They fell in love the summer before Isabella went to college.”
Clearly upset, Samuel rubbed his chin. “I didn’t know.”
“He was one of the men Isabella wrote about in her diary,” Don said.
Samuel blinked. “What are you saying?” Then realization flared. “You think he was the man harassing her?”
Don put a protective arm around Caroline. “No. He was Caroline’s father.”
Samuel inhaled sharply. “How can you be sure?”
“Mary thinks it’s true,” Caroline answered. “But a DNA test would confirm.”
Appearing genuinely shocked, Samuel said, “This is a lot to absorb.”
“Yes, it is,” Caroline agreed ruefully.
“That’s good news indeed,” Caroline said to the duty nurse on the other side of the call. “Thank you so much.”
Caroline pressed the end button on the satellite phone, which looked more like a giant walkie-talkie than the normal cell phones she was used to, and handed it back to Don. “The nurse says Elijah’s improving.”
“Glad to hear it.” He set the phone on the shelf of the bookcase he was inspecting. They were downstairs in the library, searching for the hidden passageways Elijah insisted were built into the house. Everyone else had gone upstairs to bed, leaving them free to probe. So far they’d come up empty on finding anything to suggest there were secrets inside the house’s walls but she wasn’t giving up. Outside the wind howled. Rain tapped against the window.
Moving behind her uncle’s desk, she gently rapped her knuckles against the wall. “Now if they could only figure out what had been making him so ill.”
“I’m sure the doctors will do their best.” He removed a stack of books from the shelf and ran a hand over the back of the case. “He’s where he needs to be right now. Whoever wants him dead can’t get to him now.”
“True.” She lowered her voice. “I really want to believe Uncle Samuel isn’t the one trying to kill Elijah or me.”
“Maybe he’s not. But remember, he could be a good actor. He has a compelling motive.”
“This all seems so surreal, you know. From the moment I received the letter claiming I was an heiress I’ve felt like I’ve entered some sort of bizarre alternate reality.”
He glanced over his shoulder and met her gaze. “You’re not alone.”
Staring into his handsome face, her heart squeezed tight. She’d invited Don to enter her bizarre world. She was thankful he kept her from falling apart. “No, I’m not.”
Unfortunately, her bodyguard occupied more of her thoughts than was wise. His protection though needed and wanted was beginning to make her sad. It wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, the danger would be resolved, she’d return to her life and he’d move on to protect someone else.
She didn’t want to think about not having him in her life. He’d become her friend, her confidant. The person she turned to with her questions and heartache. The one she longed to share joy with.
But was she ready to take a risk on love again?
She honestly didn’t know.
Late that night, Caroline moved restlessly about her bedroom, trying to calm herself enough to lie down. The search of the library had proved fruitless. So had every other place they’d checked—the parlor when the family was in their rooms. The kitchen when Mary and Horace were otherwise occupied. All to no avail. No secret passages to be found.
Finally, she sat at the vanity and smoothed a brush through her hair, hoping the rhythmic strokes would relax her. She listened to the way the house settled. Creaks and groans of boards shifting as the late-December temperature plummeted. A cold snap had charged through the South over the past twelve hours. A chill tripped up Caroline’s spine. She’d grown accustomed to the more mild temperatures.
Finding no peace in brushing her hair, she set the brush down, rose and moved to the bed. If she lay down and tried some of the relaxation techniques she’d once read about in a magazine, maybe that would help. The article had listed ways to clear the mind, to relax the muscles. Blowing out a breath, she fluffed the pillow and then pulled back the covers.
She gasped.
A brown and yellow striped ribbon lay curled in the middle of the stark white sheets.
Caroline frowned as her mind grappled with the sight. In a split second, her mind clicked like pieces of a puzzle snapping together. That wasn’t a ribbon.
It was a snake!
The creature moved. Lifted its head and slowly undulated, uncurling.
Panic shot through her, making her shake. Her breath hitched. She stumbled backward.
The creature slithered back beneath the covers until only the tip of its tail was visible.
“Don!” She bolted for the door. She’d barely got the lock undone before he burst in. She threw herself into his arms.
His blue-green eyes searched her face. So much compassion, so much worry. All for her. It made her feel as if she’d come…home.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Snnnake.” She pointed to the bed. “In the bed.”
“Let’s get you out of here.” He hustled her out of the room and into his.
“But the snake! What if it crawls off the bed and disappears into the house?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
A shudder ripped over her. “Please be careful.”
He nodded and shut the door. Caroline hugged her arms around her middle and rocked. She hated creepy crawling things.
A few minutes later, Don returned. Anger etched lines in his face. “I’m going to wring those kids’ necks.”
“You think Landon and Lilly put the snake in my bed?”
“I do. They want to scare you off.”
They’d made no secret of their wish that she’d leave. But to go so far as to put a snake in her bed? But then again, Don believed Landon and Lilly had set off the smoke bomb. Would the kids’ pranks get out of hand? “Was it a poisonous snake?”
“No. It’s a garden snake. Very typical of this area according to Horace.”
Ripples of distaste cascaded over her flesh anyway. “What did you do with it?”
“Horace took it outside.”
Grateful for that, she said, “I can’t sleep in there now.”
“I’ll take that room. You can sleep here.”
She didn’t want him to leave the room but forced a nod.
“Thank you.”
He cupped her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She believed him. Trust and affection pushed back her fright. She planted her hands on his T-shirt-clad chest. “What would I do without you?”
He blinked. His expression shuttered. He dropped his hand away from her face. “Once you no longer need a bodyguard, you’ll do fine without me.”
His words couldn’t have brought her back to reality any more effectively if they had been an ice-water spray in the face. “Right.”
She shifted away. She had to stop herself from going down this path. Don wasn’t a permanent fixture in her life. He was only here temporarily because she’d hired him, not because he cared about her. Indulging in any fantasies of them being together was a chump’s game.
The sooner her heart came to terms with that fact, the better.
What would I do without you?
Don struggled to come to terms with the way Caroline’s words made him feel.
A deep-seated fear rose to taunt him. His mother had said similar words to his father before he’d walked out. The memory burned a hole through Don’s consciousness. For years he’d replayed that fateful day when he’d been twelve, wishing there was some way to alter the outcome. Don had hid in the hall closet when the fighting started again. This time it seemed particularly bad. His mother screamed at his father. His father screamed back. Something smashed against the wall, the sound of breaking glass shuddering through Don. He’d heard his father’s voice, heard the words “I can’t take this anymore. I’m done.”
His mother sobbed. “What will we do without you?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
The slam of the door echoed in the silence of the quiet house in the aftermath of the fight.
Don had emerged from the closet to find his mother crumpled on the floor, weeping. And his father gone.
He’d promised himself he’d never hurt anyone like that.
Don didn’t want to be like his father.
Abiding by the rules and keeping everyone at a distance was the only way to ensure he never buckled under the pressure of responsibility.
Only when it came to Caroline, he couldn’t seem to remember the rules.
Keeping Caroline at an emotional distance was the only way to protect her, no matter how wrong it felt. Giving in to the feelings she stirred, the longings for the kind of life normal people, well-adjusted people enjoyed would only lead to disaster.
He carried too much baggage, too much fear. She’d been hurt deeply once in her life by a man she loved. Don would never put her in jeopardy of being hurt again.
Not by him.
The next morning, Caroline entered the kitchen and saw Mary sitting at the pine table in the corner. “Good morning. What are you doing?”
A blustery wind blew through the trees and buffeted the house, making the windows rattle.
Mary lifted her gaze and smiled a welcome. “Come, I’d like to show you these pictures of Dennis.”
She gestured to the many photos laid out across the tabletop in front of her, some yellowed and curling at the edges.
Heart hammering in her chest, Caroline sat in an empty chair. She picked up a photo of a young man in a military uniform. Her biological father. There was a resemblance between them in the line of his eyes and the shape of his jaw.
“Here are some of your mother, too.”
Setting the picture she held aside, Caroline reached for the one Mary pointed to. The image captured a group of six kids mugging for the camera. Uncle Samuel and Dennis, she recognized. And her mother, with her dark hair plaited into two braids and wearing a wide smile. The others looked vaguely familiar. One boy was taller, older than the rest. Another boy had a sickly look about him, his skin pale and his blond hair cut short. The other girl in the photo was younger with long white-blond hair. “Who are the others?”
Mary tapped the image. “Randy. Abby. Georgie.”
Caroline studied the photo. “Is this Aunt Abigail?”
“Yes. She had her sights set on Samuel way back then.”
Confused, Caroline said, “I had the impression she wasn’t from around here. She certainly doesn’t sound Southern.”
Mary laughed. “No, she doesn’t. Her family moved here when she was six or seven, maybe.”
Caroline picked up another photo. Two men dressed in hunting gear, arms slung around each other’s shoulder, smiles spread from ear to ear. She stared. “Is this Mr. Paladin with Dennis?”
Leaning over to look, Mary nodded. “It is.”
Caroline compared this photo to the group shot. Paladin was the sickly boy with Isabella and Dennis. Her pulse spiked as an inkling of unease slithered through her. “Didn’t you tell me Dennis died on a hunting trip?”
Sadness darkened Mary’s eyes. “That’s correct. Dennis, Randy and Georgie had gone up north to hunt deer.”
Bracing herself for the horrible details, she asked, “What happened?”
“They were twenty-five feet up in a hunting perch. Dennis leaned too far out to get a shot off and fell to the ground. He died instantly.”
The unease turned to full-fledged suspicion. She stared at the photos, her mind ticking through thoughts in rapid fire.
He fell? Or was he pushed?
Could one of these other two men be the man who’d stalked and killed her mother?
The questions screamed across her mind with all the velocity of a fighter jet, leaving a trail of anxiety in its wake.
Caroline needed to talk to Don. She pointed back to the group shot. “Who is this other kid?” she asked, surprise to hear her voice shake.
“Georgie? George Gantz.”
Her breath caught. “The sheriff?”
“That’s right.”
Caroline scrambled to her feet, clutching the photos. “Do you mind if I show these to Don?”
“Of course not.”
Caroline rushed from the kitchen in search of Don. If what she was thinking was true, they may finally have a lead as to who killed her mother.
But were either of these men involved in the threats against her life? And if so, why?
ELEVEN
Two hours later, Don parked the borrowed Bentley in front of Paladin’s office. “We can’t go in accusing him.”
Caroline nodded, but he could tell she was itching to do just that.
Don agreed the photos were interesting and led to more questions. Such as, why if they were such close friends, Paladin hadn’t known that Isabella called Dennis “Johnny.” Seemed like something a good buddy would know. Unless he’d lied.
Don held open the door to Paladin’s office for Caroline, then followed her inside. The receptionist wasn’t at her desk.
“Hello?” Caroline called out.
Don knocked on the closed door to Paladin’s private office. When no one answered, he pushed the door open, automatically careful not to disturb any fingerprints. Trent Associates were well trained in basic investigative protocol, regardless of their backgrounds. No one was inside.
“Seems odd to leave the offices unlocked and unmanned,” Caroline remarked as she brushed past him to enter the room.
He made a gentle grab for her but missed. “I’m sure they’ll return.”
She nodded as she picked up one of the small, framed photos sitting on the credenza. When she looked up, excitement brightened her pretty eyes. “Look at this.”
She held the picture out for his inspection. It was a formal photo of a family of four. A distinguished-looking man in a dark suit and tie
sat in the center of the group, his resemblance to his son very clear. A woman with blond, upswept hair smiled at the camera. Paladin as a teen stood to his mother’s right while a younger girl, sporting braces and white-blond pigtails on the other side of her father.
Stunned, Don’s gaze met Caroline’s. “Abigail.”
“Abigail and—Paladin,” Caroline confirmed. “I wonder why Mary didn’t mention Aunt Abigail and Mr. Paladin are siblings.”
Don wasn’t sure how all the dots were lining up, but they still had another person to talk to. “Let’s go see Sheriff Gantz.”
Ten minutes later, they were ushered into the sheriff’s office.
“I was planning on paying you a visit today,” the sheriff said without preamble. “Please have a seat.”
Caroline sat. Don remained standing. “You were coming out to the estate?”
“I was.” Gantz opened a large manila envelope lying on his desk and dumped out two plastic, sealed evidence bags. Each bag contained an amber prescription bottle.
Caroline leaned forward. “What are those?”
“The medications that were sent to the hospital with Elijah. The pills inside are salt pills. Easily bought over the counter and switched out for the real medicine.”
“Someone has been tampering with Elijah’s medication. No wonder his health hadn’t been improving.” Don gestured to the bottles. “Prints?”
Gantz shrugged. “None unexpected. Mary and Horace Finch. Abigail and Samuel Maddox. And yours, Ms. Tully.”
Caroline sat back. “I handled the bottles when I gave them to the paramedics.”
Gantz nodded. “I figured as much.”
“Have you questioned the others?” Don asked.
“Not yet, but I intend to. I suggest keeping Mr. Maddox in the hospital until the culprit is found.”
“I totally agree,” Don stated.
“Can either of you think of a motive for someone to want Mr. Maddox dead?”
“His money,” Don ventured.
“Or—” Caroline stared up at him. The anguish in her eyes tore him. “Mary and Horace have a reason.”
