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.
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
Two 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.
Dangerous Inheritance Page 6
