by Terri Reed
“What reason?” Gantz demanded.
Don explained, “Elijah disapproved of Dennis and Isabella’s relationship.”
Gantz frowned. “Relationship?”
“Dennis Finch is my biological father,” Caroline announced.
The sheriff sat back, clearly stunned by her words.
“Maybe this is some sort of revenge on Mary and Horace’s part,” Don said, his gaze on Caroline. Even though she was the one who’d brought up the possibility, it was clear she didn’t want to believe it.
“But why now?” Caroline’s eyebrow furrowed with confusion. “Why wait all these years?”
“Elijah became ill and they saw an opportunity. Hate can fester.”
She shook her head. “Horace agreed with Elijah.”
“But Mary?”
“I guess.” Caroline appeared like she was going to be sick.
Empathy knotted in Don’s gut. He could only imagine how upsetting this was.
“Wait a second.” Gantz held up a hand. “You’ve lost me. Start at the beginning.”
Don quickly filled in the pieces of the story that they knew.
“You’re saying that the man your mother wrote about in her diary, the man she loved, was Dennis Finch?” Sheriff Gantz asked with puzzlement in his eyes. “Dennis and Isabella?”
“Why is that hard to believe?” Don asked, studying the man, looking for some hint of subterfuge.
“Dennis never said a thing to me.” Gantz tapped a finger against his chin, his gaze taking on a faraway glaze. “Now it makes sense, though.”
“What does?” Don asked.
“The day Dennis died, he’d hinted that he had come home from New Orleans for a rare visit because he had some news to tell us. But then we got caught up in the hunt and he never told us his news.”
“He died before he could.” Which news was he going to tell his two best friends? Don wondered. Was Dennis going to tell them he and Isabella were in love or that they had gotten married? Probably both.
“I’ve often wondered what he wanted to tell us.” Unfortunately, they would never know the answer.
“How did he fall?” Caroline’s voice cracked on the last word.
Don fisted his hand to keep from reaching for her.
Sorrow washed over Gantz’s face. “He was leaning too far off the perch trying to take a shot. He lost his footing.”
Caroline lowered her jaw. “You saw this?” Her tone sharpened. Good girl. Pride swelled in Don’s chest. She was so much stronger than he was, able to harness her pain and work with it, not allow the past to hobble her. Unlike him.
Gantz looked startled by the question. Don’s instincts reared.
“No. Actually, I was on the ground. Dennis and Randy had climbed up to take a look.”
“So he could have been pushed for all you know…” Caroline mused.
Don bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. She was leading the sheriff like a kitten with a laser light.
Gantz shook his head adamantly. “He wasn’t. Randy and Dennis were best friends. Randy was devastated by Dennis’s death.”
Caroline asked, “What was Randy and Isabella’s relationship like?”
“Friends. We all ran around together as kids.”
“But what about when they were at college together?” Caroline pressed.
Gantz tilted his head, clearly not liking where this was headed. “What are you saying? Do you think Randy had a thing going with Isabella, too?”
“We don’t know,” Don contributed.
Gantz’s demeanor turned from grieving friend to cop in a flash. “What do you know?”
Oops. But Don could play that game, too. He planted his feet, clasped his hands behind his back and squared up.
“Isabella was being stalked by someone who wanted to be with her, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was pregnant and alone. Afraid to tell her parents what was going on, so she gave up her child because she didn’t believe she could raise a baby on her own. And because she was afraid of what her stalker would do if he learned she was carrying another man’s child. A month after giving birth she was murdered.”
Don paused just long enough to see how the sheriff reacted to the one word any lawman should trip over regardless of the conversation’s topic. Gantz didn’t blink. Okay.
“The police labeled the crime a B and E. But the lead detective told Elijah there was no forced entry, which was withheld in the official police report. That detective passed away a decade ago, so there’s no way of knowing why he left off that detail. Though I’d be willing to speculate he’d been paid off by the killer.”
Gantz narrowed his gaze. “Who are you?”
Don could appreciate the older man’s astuteness. He relaxed his stance and reached into his pocket for his identification. “I’m with Trent Associates, a protection specialist agency out of Boston.”
Gantz inspected his credentials before handing them back. “Am I correct in assuming you believe the attempts on Ms. Tully’s life have something to do with Isabella’s death?”
“I’m not sure how everything fits together yet.” Every time they upturned a stone they uncovered more confusion.
“But one thing is for certain. There’s a madman loose in your jurisdiction, Sheriff. One who has set his sights on Caroline.”
And Don would risk everything to keep her safe.
“Yes, Randall Paladin is my brother,” Abigail said. She sat on the sofa in the parlor, a home-decorating magazine lay open on the coffee table. Her children were nowhere to be seen.
Don hitched a hip on the arm of the winged-back chair that Caroline sat in. He watched Abigail closely. Her green eyes appeared a tad too bright. Panic? Or anger?
“Why did you keep it a secret?” Caroline asked.
Abigail arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “A secret? What are you talking about? Everyone around here knows we’re related. Just because I didn’t tell you, doesn’t mean I was keeping my relationship to Randall a secret.”
“Are you and your brother close?” Don asked.
“No. He didn’t approve of my marriage to Samuel.”
“Really? Why not?” Caroline asked.
The disbelief in her voice mirrored the same surprise rocketing through Don. Samuel Maddox had to have been considered a catch around these parts.
Abigail sighed. “My brother is all about everyone staying within their social class.”
A convenient reoccurring theme. First Elijah, now Paladin. Yet Paladin was the Maddox family lawyer. A very valuable client to have in a generally lower income, struggling part of the country. Why would he disapprove of having a closer connection to the family? The discrepancy didn’t add up.
“But you all played together as kids,” Caroline said. “Surely any social barriers were dismantled long ago.”
Abigail’s mouth stretched in a stiff smile. “Playing as children is a far cry from marrying into the family. My father worked for Elijah. Randall still works for Elijah. My marrying into the Maddox family was a breach in etiquette.” She all but sniffed in disdain for Caroline and Don’s lack of understanding of the intricacies of Southern high society.
Don asked, “What was Randall’s relationship with Isabella?”
Disapproval shifted in Abigail’s gaze. “I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead.”
Caroline stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Isabella had a wild streak.” Abigail lowered her voice as if afraid someone would hear. “She had a baby out of wedlock. Need I say more?”
Caroline clenched her jaw so tight Don was sure she’d have an ache later. He was proud of her for not lashing out at her aunt for the unkind words.
Wanti
ng to know what this woman knew of Isabella’s life, Don asked, “Do you know who Isabella was involved with before she was murdered?”
“I heard rumors but I don’t take stock in gossip.”
“Except when you’re doing the gossiping,” Caroline muttered.
Before Don succumbed to a smile, he asked, “What were the rumors?”
“She and Georgie-Porgie had a fling before she left for college.”
Don frowned and clarified, “George Gantz?”
Abigail waved a bejeweled hand. “Yes, our esteemed sheriff.”
Curious that the sheriff never mentioned his feelings for Isabella. Don hadn’t picked up on the deceit. The sheriff obviously had a good poker face. Or was Abigail lying?
“But as I said, it was only a rumor. I don’t know if it’s true.” Abigail glanced coyly at Don. “But I do know George had a thing for Isabella.” Her mouth twisted. “But then again, half the boys in Jefferson County had a thing for her. Like I said, wild.”
“Including your brother?” Caroline’s voice dripped with anger.
Abigail shrugged, the gesture so similar to that of her kids, Don was almost too distracted to see the flash of aversion cross her face.
“My brother wasn’t immune to Isabella’s charms any more than the other males in town. But Randall knew his place and he certainly wasn’t chasing after Isabella.”
Don figured she thought if she kept saying it, it would be true. Probably not so much.
Caroline’s complexion had paled to a sickly hue. “How about Dennis Finch?”
Pursing her lips in thought, Abigail tilted her head. “I hardly think so. He joined the army right out of high school.”
“You didn’t see him when he returned?”
She shook her head. “No, I can’t say that I did. But I was off at college myself by then.”
“Where did you go?”
“Ole Miss, of course.”
The University of Mississippi. Easy enough to verify—and probably true, at that. It was clear Abigail had set her sights on Samuel early on. It stood to reason she’d follow him to college. Something wasn’t adding up, though. If Sheriff Gantz had had a relationship with Isabella, why hide it? Unless he was the man who had stalked her.
But why then come after Caroline?
Was there more than one murderer on the loose?
Later that evening, Caroline and Don retreated to the library. Don sat at the desk using Samuel’s dial-up computer, while she curled up in a chair by the window trying to relax with a book. But after reading the same passage for the fifth time, she gave up. Drizzling rain marred the outside of the window pane and obscured the view of the surrounding woods, making her feel cut off from the rest of the world.
Letting her gaze stray across the room, she couldn’t help watching Don. And enjoying the sight of his good looks. His fingers flew over the keyboard, his expression a study in intense concentration that added to his handsomeness.
She tried not to think about what it would be like after all this was over to not have Don around 24/7. She really dreaded going back to her former existence. Alone and lonely.
By choice, she reminded herself.
After Cullen’s death and then discovering his betrayal, she’d kept herself isolated on purpose to protect herself from further pain. How could she ever trust someone so implicitly again?
Don wasn’t anything like Cullen, her mind rationalized.
Yet, there were similarities. Both were charming, compassionate and smart.
But there was something about Don that drew her to him in a way she’d never felt before. His honor and integrity were real. Admitting to his post-traumatic stress disorder had to have been hard for a man who liked to be in control. Yet he wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable with her. Knowing that he trusted her with his inner wounds made her feel special. He hadn’t had to open up to her, that wasn’t in his job description.
Don’s gaze lifted from the laptop and collided with hers. Heat flushed through her face for being caught staring but she didn’t look away. She wasn’t going to reveal her thoughts, however. Now was not the time.
She did her best to pretend she’d simply been admiring his haircut and smiled. “What are you working on?”
One eyebrow twitched, but only slightly. “A little research into Sheriff Gantz. He was at the police academy in Jackson when Isabella was murdered.”
“That’s good, right?” She hated the idea of the sheriff being a murderer.
“I’ve confirmed it’s an airtight alibi. But we still don’t know what really happened when Dennis died. I had one of the investigators at Trent dig up Dennis’s autopsy report. His injuries were consistent with a fall.”
“An accident.” Better than having both her biological parents murdered. But still awful. Horrifying.
“Maybe. A push wouldn’t show up in autopsy, though. I’d like to hear Paladin’s version to see if it lines up with Gantz’s.”
A blast of noise split the air and rattled the house all the way to the foundation. The lights flickered. Books fell from the wall, the sharp edges digging into her back. Stunned she jumped from the chair.
“Get down!” Don dove away from the desk and belly crawled to her side. “Come on!” he urged and pushed her toward the door.
Black smoke curled through the archway. The stench of burning wood assaulted her senses.
In the entryway, Abigail ushered her children out the door. Don and Caroline followed them out into the drizzling rain. Samuel ran from the side of the house to where they gathered on the driveway. Horace grabbed the hose and dragged it back around to the side of the house.
“The generator blew up,” Samuel explained and coughed into his sleeve. He hugged his wife and children.
“We have to help put out the fire in the cellar!” The family was about to lose everything they had. Caroline moved, intending to run to aid Horace, but Don caught her about the waist.
“You stay here.”
“The house!”
“I’ll go.” Don took off at a run, disappearing around the side of the house. Samuel quickly followed.
Caroline looked around. “Where’s Mary?”
“I didn’t see her,” Abigail said.
“She was in the kitchen.” Lilly began to cry.
Caroline’s stomach tumbled. Mary could be hurt. “I’m going to go find her.”
“Wait! It’s not safe,” Abigail called out.
Caroline couldn’t let her grandmother die. She raced back inside.
TWELVE
Flames licked at the cellar doors. Burning wood crackled. Smoke thickened. Anxiety chomped through Don. He sprayed the fire extinguisher. His heart hammered in his chest. His breathing came out in ragged gasps. Vivid nightmares of the bombing that scarred his hand hovered at the periphery of his mind. He forced his concentration on the task at hand.
Beside him, Horace continued to douse the side of the house with a calmness Don envied. Samuel held the satellite phone in one hand and, with the other, helped to keep the hose from tangling in the bushes butting up against the outer wall.
“Fire department’s on their way,” Samuel called out.
“Samuel! Don!” Abigail and the twins skidded to a halt a few feet away.
One glance at the group and Don’s stomach dropped. Fear sparked like the business end of a Taser. “Where’s Caroline?”
“She went back in to find Mary,” Landon said, his voice quivering.
“I tried to stop her,” wailed Abigail.
Terror shot through Don’s system. She was in danger. If anything happened to her… His heart pitched. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. She’d become the most important person in his life. That realization spir
aled through him, scaring him almost as much as the fire.
“My wife!” Horace ran toward the front door. Another explosion rocked the house and blew out the first-floor windows.
Don grabbed the older man and held him back. “You stay. I’ll get them.”
He stormed back through the front door. “Caroline!”
“Here!” Her faint cry came from the kitchen.
He raced down the hallway. Billowing clouds of smoke stung his eyes. The back wall of the house burned in a searing hot display of color. He found Caroline huddled over an unconscious Mary on the floor in the corner.
Tears streaked a sooty trail down Caroline’s face. “Help her.”
He easily lifted Mary into his arms. “Stay with me,” he said to Caroline.
Swallowing the fear rising to choke him, he led her back the way they’d come through the dense black smoke. He could barely see the open front door. The sound of sirens drawing closer filled him with relief. Just a few more feet.
“Please, God, please let me get them out of here safely,” he whispered. And hoped his prayer would be answered.
Behind him a door hinge creaked. A scuffle.
Caroline’s choked scream stopped him in his tracks.
Shifting Mary in his arms to gain a more secure hold, he spun around. “Caroline!”
The hall was empty. She was gone.
Panic clogged his throat.
Fear clawed at him, leaving raw wounds. He had to get Mary out. Then he’d come back to find Caroline. She had to be here somewhere.
Forcing his feet forward, he stumbled out the door, depositing Mary into Horace’s waiting arms. Fire trucks roared up the drive. Don couldn’t wait for the firemen to rescue Caroline. He had to save her. He couldn’t fail her. She’d trusted him to protect her.
He ran back inside. Visibility was zero. He listened intently, but heard only the roar of the fire, the groaning of the house protesting the assault.
“Caroline!”
No answer.
His gaze searched the entryway, the hall. She’d been right behind him….
