Dangerous Inheritance

by Barbara Warren

  He climbed the steps to sit down in the other wicker chair. “You doing okay?”

  “I guess so.” As okay as she could be considering everything that was going on. However, she enjoyed having him to herself for a little while, liked the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her, too. He smiled and her heartbeat accelerated, pounding so hard she could almost feel it thumping against her chest wall. Why did he have this effect on her? She’d never felt this way about any other man.

  She was aware the way she felt about him went much further than just friendship. Something she hadn’t counted on. She’d tried to avoid it, but it seemed that the harder she tried to hold him at arm’s length, the more she felt drawn to him.

  * * *

  Nick watched Macy, noticing the signs of stress in the way she moved her shoulders, the way she grasped the arms of the chair, and how she kept tightening her lips and staring out at the street. He had a hunch living here was getting to her. Which wasn’t surprising, considering the nonstop effort someone was making to get rid of her. He admired her courage and her determination, but he couldn’t stop worrying about something happening to her. She was so vulnerable, yet so stubborn, and she didn’t have anyone else. Just him. That worried him. What if he slipped up some way? Thinking about it was keeping him awake at night.

  “Has anything else happened that I don’t know about?”

  “Not that I can think of. I’m still going through the house, trying to find information that would throw light on my parents’ lives back then, but so far I haven’t found anything. I know it’s been seventeen years since they lived here, but there should be something pertaining to them. I mean, their clothes are still here. Why would anyone have discarded records and personal papers?”

  Nick shrugged “I don’t know. Maybe it’s all packed away somewhere. Keep looking, and if you need help with it, call me.”

  He wanted her to ask him to come inside and help right now, prolong the time he could spend with her and maybe accomplish something at the same time, but since she didn’t, he changed the subject. “Have you remembered anything more?”

  This wasn’t something he was really comfortable with. He knew she needed to get her memory back, but this was unfamiliar territory for him. And there was always the chance that her memory would return at the wrong time, putting her in more danger. Since they had no idea whom they were looking for, she might trust the wrong person and confide in him—or her. The intruder might be a woman for all he knew.

  Macy shook her head, “No, and it’s so frustrating. I thought all I would have to do was live here and it would all come back to me, but it’s like that part of my life is just gone and I can’t call it back.”

  Nick reached out to take her hand and she curled her fingers around his. “Don’t give up, Macy. I really believe at the right time it will all come back to you.”

  He didn’t tell her of his fears that someone would do everything possible to prevent that. She had enough to deal with, but he would do some heavy-duty praying about it. God would keep her safe. He had to. Because Nick was starting to realize how bleak his life would be without Macy.

  They talked a little longer, and she told him about her visit with Raleigh Benson. Macy paused. “There’s something about him that strikes me wrong. He doesn’t want me here. When I first met him he kept trying to get me to sell the house and got upset when I refused. And he said something today that bothered me. He said the minute he saw me he knew I would be trouble. He acts friendly until I cross him and then he gets frustrated. And he’s made it clear he wants me to get out of this house and leave town.”

  “So something’s going on there. I guess we add him to our suspect list.”

  “Add whoever is calling me. In fact, I think that person belongs at the top.”

  “Do you recognize the voice?”

  “No. But it sounds strange, like the guy’s using something to disguise it.”

  There were products on the market that would work with the telephone to change the caller’s voice. At least three types that he knew of. There were the stand-alone ones, about the size of a deck of cards; there were the phone-integrated voice-changing devices; and there was even a software-based one. They could change the voice’s speed, change the gender, even add background noises. He needed to check into that.

  “So you might recognize it if he spoke normally. Which means it could be anyone.”

  Macy sighed. “And that puts us right back at the beginning. We really don’t have any strong leads.”

  Nick leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I had a talk with Sam. He’s come over to our side. It’s a legitimate investigation now, with the police department working on it with us. Just give us time, Macy. We’ll get to the bottom of it. We’ve got a good bunch of men out there looking for evidence.”

  Nick wasn’t as confident as he sounded, but she had enough to worry about. He wanted to ease her mind a bit if he could, but he could tell from her expression it wasn’t working. She’d shown too many times that she didn’t have any confidence in the police. That’s probably what she was thinking right now. “Look, Macy. I know it looks hopeless, but there’s someone out there who knows the truth.”

  “Yes, but they’re not coming forth with any information we can use.”

  “We’ll find them. Keep praying and have faith. Something is bound to break before long.”

  “I know, but the person who made the phone call knows I’m here. What if he’s watching me, knowing what I’m doing, and I have no idea who he is? He could be standing beside me in the supermarket, and I wouldn’t even know it.”

  Yeah, he’d thought about that. The person harassing her had to be Megan’s killer. Who else would put so much effort into trying to drive her out of this house? And that would mean that Steve Douglas hadn’t killed his wife.

  Which brought him back to the problem of what the police had done all those years ago. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get away from it. Joe Tipton had been sure they hadn’t really tried to find out the truth. So if someone else had killed Megan, could he clear Steve Douglas’s name without tarnishing his own father’s reputation? Surely it wouldn’t come to that. Either way, he had to take care of Macy. He’d reached that decision, accepted it and moved on. Both their fathers were dead. Macy was alive. Whatever it took, he had to keep her that way.

  “You need to be extra careful, Macy. I’ll do my best, but I can’t be with you all the time. Stay around people. And don’t trust anyone.”

  She gave him a serious look. “Anyone?”

  He grinned. “Well, you can trust me. But be careful around anyone else. And keep my phone number with you all the time. You call and I’ll be here as soon as possible. And that’s a promise.”

  She nodded. “I’ll do my best. But we both know if someone wants to get to me, he probably will.”

  “But we’re going to do everything we can to prevent that.”

  His cell phone rang and he answered to find Sam on the line. “Yeah, I’m on my way. Just got delayed a little. Be right there.”

  Nick hung up the phone and looked at Macy. “I should have been at work a half hour ago. Are you sure you’re all right with staying here by yourself? Don’t think you have to if you’re afraid.”

  He hated to go, knowing she’d be here alone. It got harder every time. He’d sleep on the porch just to make sure she was safe if she’d let him, but she’d probably call Sam to make him leave. It was hard to take care of a woman who wouldn’t cooperate. “I’ll drive by occasionally and check on things. And now that Sam’s agreed to an open investigation, we need to think about putting a trace on your phone line.”

  She stared at him, looking surprised. “I never thought of that. Can you take care of it for me?”

  “Sure I can. I’ll get right on it, and if you’re uneasy about anything, you call me, okay? And keep me up to date on anything you find out.”

  * * *

  He stood there, smiling down
at her, but there was worry in his eyes. Macy realized she was getting so close to him she could do a fair job reading his expressions. She kept telling herself to back off, but she had to admit she really didn’t want to. Not when the sight of him sent her heart racing.

  “Look, Macy. I’ll do everything I can for you. I promise you that,” he said before departing.

  She nodded. Nick was the one person in this town she believed she could depend on.

  After he left, Macy went back inside. She paused at the entrance of the living room, playing over in her mind what had happened here seventeen years ago. It would have been night, the lights on. She would have been upstairs in bed. Asleep? Maybe, maybe not. She closed her eyes, trying to summon the memory.

  She had come downstairs, had stood here in this very spot, looking in. Macy didn’t know how she knew that—she just knew. She caught a glimpse of the room in the mirror over the fireplace, as she had done that night. She’d been so scared, so horrified by what she’d seen.

  She stared at the fireplace. It was coming, she could feel it. Suddenly, in her mind, she saw one of the chairs overturned, lying on its side. The crumpled body of a woman lay on the floor, a dark blue robe twisted around her. Blood seeped from a head wound. A blue house shoe lay a short distance away.

  Silence as thick and stifling as a heavy blanket smothered Macy. She struggled to breathe. A sound, half human, half animal, tore from her throat, ending in pain-filled words that were barely recognizable.

  Mama! No! Don’t hurt my mama!

  Macy sank to the floor, overcome by the vividness of the memory. It slowly faded from her mind until nothing remained. The body was gone, the chair sitting erect. She slumped forward, head bent over her lap, tears flowing down her cheeks to soak the jeans she wore.

  Her mother. She’d seen her mother’s body.

  Just the way she had seen it that night.

  Finally she wearily got to her feet and climbed the stairs. As if on cue, the phone rang. Macy stumbled down the hall to her grandmother’s room, her heart pounding in her throat. She held the receiver to her ear, noticing in an abstract way how her hand trembled. “Hello?”

  The voice rasped over the line, harsh and distorted. “Getting ready for bed, I see.”

  ELEVEN

  A chill swept over her. He could see her? “Why are you doing this?”

  “I told you why. You’re not wanted here. Pack it up and get out of town, or stay here and take what you get. It’s up to you.”

  The line went dead, and Macy sank down on the bed, fighting for control. He was watching her. Even knew she was upstairs. Of course, the downstairs lights were off, except the one in the foyer, but he would have to be standing outside to know that.

  She slowly pushed herself off the bed and crept down the hall to her room. Between the memory of seeing her mother’s body and the emotions aroused by the phone call, she probably wouldn’t close her eyes all night.

  After she’d tossed for the better part of an hour, she finally drifted into a troubled slumber, dreaming someone was chasing her down a darkened street, while a harsh voice loaded with hatred echoed through her head. “Run, you brat! Run.”

  She woke the next morning feeling groggy, but managed to choke down a few bites of toast and strawberry jelly before Neva arrived. After getting her started cleaning upstairs, Macy decided to continue searching the lower rooms, hoping to stumble across something that would jump-start her memory. She started with the corner cabinet in the formal dining room, the room she never used, preferring the homier atmosphere of the kitchen. The top drawer held a collection of odds and ends, none of which seemed important. In the second drawer she found an envelope full of pictures that appeared to have been taken at a Christmas party.

  There was her mother and her father. That child in the charming, long-skirted blue dress was her. Most of the people in the group picture were casually seated or standing, but one young blonde woman posed for the camera, chin lowered, lips pouting, and a sly glance slanted upward with an inviting expression.

  She looked familiar, but Macy couldn’t come up with a name for her. Somehow she didn’t seem to fit in with the others. The longer she stared at the picture, the more uncomfortable she felt. As if she had known the blonde woman and hadn’t liked her. She pawed through the rest of the drawers, finding nothing else. On an impulse she spread the pictures out on the kitchen table, planning to look closer at them later, maybe ask Hilda Yates about them. Since Macy had called to apologize, her grandmother’s friend had made an effort to stay in touch, calling and dropping by occasionally. Hilda was easy to talk to, friendly and helpful. Not like Neva.

  Today Macy had asked Neva what her mother had been like, thinking if she had worked for Megan Douglas she should have intimate knowledge. Neva had stared past Macy for a minute before speaking. “She looked a lot like you. People called her beautiful. She lived in this big house. She had everything she wanted.”

  Macy had watched her, waiting for something more personal, but Neva had gazed into her coffee cup, not meeting Macy’s eyes. “She had you.”

  Then she had just walked out of the room and started cleaning, leaving Macy staring after her. Neva could be friendly when she wanted to, but most of the time she just worked, not talking much. She seemed to miss Opal, though.

  Today Macy had found her standing before the open closet in her grandmother’s room. Neva had said she was thinking about Opal, remembering her wearing these things, just thinking about how hard it was to realize she was gone. She’d also noticed Neva didn’t do much cleaning in that room, as if she were distancing herself from it. Like it hurt her to spend much time in it.

  But at least Neva had memories of her friend. Macy had no such memories herself. All she could do was ask God to help her and pray that something would unlock her mind.

  Something else bothered Macy. Neva had asked for a key today. Although Macy was sure it would have been all right, she’d decided against it.

  This house was too big and too strange for her to feel comfortable, and she had enough to worry about without having her house key floating around out there. Not that she didn’t trust Neva; she did, of course, otherwise she wouldn’t have hired her in the first place. But that problem with the alarm had been a wake-up call. She’d be more careful from now on, more prone to watch her back.

  Hilda knocked on the door, and today she brought brownies. She and Macy sat on the front porch talking while Neva worked inside.

  Hilda nodded toward the car in the driveway. “That looks like Neva Miller’s vehicle. What’s she doing here?”

  Macy leaned her head back against the chair and breathed in the scent of honeysuckle. “She came to the house looking for a job. Said she’d worked for both my mother and grandmother. So I took her on. Why?”

  Hilda looked uncomfortable. “Nothing, I guess.”

  Macy gave her a stern look. “Oh, no, you don’t. You had a reason for asking and I want to know what it was.”

  Hilda shrugged. “Yes, she did work for Opal. I was just surprised to see her here so soon after you arrived in town. Neva’s had a hard life. Her daughter was kind of wild. She got in trouble and went to prison. Then when she got out she was killed in a car wreck.”

  “She told me her daughter had died, but I didn’t know any of the rest. I guess that explains why I thought she was sort of odd. She probably didn’t want to talk about it.” Macy shook her head in compassion. Poor Neva. She was glad she’d hired her. She probably needed the money.

  “Yes, she doesn’t talk much about Lindy. In fact, she sort of keeps to herself. Oh, she goes to church and community events, but she doesn’t really get involved.”

  “She works hard and the house looks better since she started taking care of it,” Macy said. “Neva’s not much for standing around talking. She gets the work done, and I like having someone besides me in the house. I’m still not used to anything this big and empty. Houses like this weren’t built for just one person to liv
e in.”

  Hilda laughed. “No, I guess back then they planned on big families to fill all of these rooms. These old mansions are beautiful, but I prefer something smaller, myself.”

  Macy hesitated. She needed to know something about the woman who had raised her the first seven years of her life. The mother she still couldn’t remember.

  “Hilda, I want to talk to someone who might have been a friend of my mother’s. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t remember her. I need more than just a vague idea of what she was like. Who can I talk to?”

  “You have to remember, Macy, that Megan was a lot younger than me. I was her mother’s age. Opal’s age. I didn’t know her all that well, didn’t know her friends, but I never heard anything bad about her and as far as I know she didn’t have any real enemies. Oh, Anita bad-mouthed her every chance she got, but that’s all.”

  “She had one enemy,” Macy said. “The one who killed her.”

  Hilda nodded. “That’s true enough. Someone did that. Have you found her diary?”

  Her diary? Her mother kept a diary? It would be full of personal information. Things Megan Douglas had thought were important enough to record. No, she hadn’t found anything like that while searching through the house. She stared at Hilda. “You mean she actually kept a diary? I didn’t know that.”

  “Opal found it a couple of months ago. She mentioned it to me and said it hurt her to read it.”

  Macy felt as if someone had handed her a gift. Her mother had kept a diary? She had to find it. That handwritten account might be just what she needed to jog her memory.

  “It was right after that she started acting funny.”

  Macy zeroed in on that comment. “Funny? How?”

  Hilda leaned back, frowning. “Like I told you, she started talking about Steve, and she never did that before. It was almost like she felt he was innocent.”

  She gave Macy an intent look. “Opal lived her beliefs. If there was anything in that diary that pointed to someone besides Steve, Opal would have done something about it. She’d have felt that was what God would want her to do.”