by Stacy Green
Elegantly carved in the center of the wood were the initials “J.J.L”
“Oh my God.” Jaymee’s excited voice sounded far away.
“In my bag,” Dani managed. “There’s a utility knife.”
As soon as she had the knife in her shaking hand, Dani broke one of her most important rules. She slashed through the antique upholstery, cutting around the entire chair. The strip fell silently to the floor to reveal a crude wooden latch and a rusting hinge. The hidden lid appeared barely large enough to slide a hand into.
“It’s some sort of metal box,” Dani said. “The chair was built around it.”
“Can you move the latch?”
Dani took the latch between her thumb and forefinger and then pushed as hard as she could. The latch didn’t move.
“I don’t suppose you have any kind of oil in that bag of yours?” Jaymee asked.
“Hand me the screwdriver.”
“Don’t break it.”
“Listen to you, telling the restoration expert to be careful. Trust me, I realize this chair is worth some money, especially if John James built it. But I’m desperate.”
“I’m not talking about that. We have to leave the chair in here. You’ve already ripped the fabric. Hopefully no one will notice. But if the latch is broken and the lid dangling, the cops will see it.”
Damn. “All right. This might take a while.”
Gingerly, barely able to take a full breath, Dani worked the latch open. Her fingers ached, and more than one splinter shred its way into her skin. Fresh moisture broke out on her upper lip.
Finally, the latch turned all the way to the left, and she was able to wedge the square lid open. Pulse thundering, Dani eased the lid down. “Flashlight.”
Leaning on her elbow, Dani cast her light into the hidden compartment.
“What do you see?”
“A roll of paper.” Dani passed the flashlight to Jaymee. The thick roll was wedged inside the chair horizontally, and she was afraid pulling too hard would rip the fragile paper. Lying flat on her back as though she were working beneath the hood of a car, she gently twisted and tugged until the roll of brittle paper slid out.
Creased and yellow, it was tied loosely with a thick piece of twine. Dani slipped it off, and together she and Jaymee flattened out the paper.
“The blueprints,” Dani said.
“Do they look any different than the church’s?”
“The light’s too dim, and the ink is faded.” She gently thumbed the edges. “There are three pages. The church’s only has two.”
Jaymee twisted around for a better angle and then shined her flashlight inside the hidden compartment. “So this thing is about four inches deep. Who thinks of building a chair around a metal box?”
“Paranoid people,” Dani said. “John James brought this place through the Reconstruction and the insurgent militia while vocally supporting the union and paying his black field workers, even if the pittance was meager. He probably hid everything of value. Can you see anything else?”
Eyes narrowed and tongue peeking out of the edge of her mouth, Jaymee examined the rest of the space. “Yes. I can’t tell what it is.”
“Be careful,” Dani said as Jaymee reached for it. “Or we’ll end up in the emergency room getting you a tetanus shot.”
“I don’t like needles.” Slowly, Jaymee pulled out the second object. It was an old photograph, lightened and withered, but in decent condition thanks to the sealed box. A black woman with fine features and knowing eyes was seated holding an infant dressed in the traditional white christening attire. The bonnet on her head with the bow indicated the child was probably a girl, her dark hair framing her tiny face in waves.
“CaryAnne?” Jaymee asked. “With her nanny?”
“Maybe. She was born after the war, but there were still plenty of black house servants.”
“And her mother died when she was very young. Probably before this picture was taken. Are there any pictures of CaryAnne in the historical society?”
“Yes, but she’s older.”
“It’s probably her. Strange that John James hid the blueprints and this picture here, though.”
“And significant.” Dani turned the picture over. It was mounted on a heavy cardboard-like frame, and something was written in pencil. Eroded by the decades, it was too faded to read. “Damn. I can’t make this–” The thought died in her throat as a heavy creak echoed throughout the dark house, followed by a heavy thud.
“What was that?” Jaymee whispered.
Silence and her own rasping breath boomed in Dani’s ears as she strained to listen. A slow, steady tread rumbled across the old floors.
“Footsteps.”
Jaymee snapped the compartment’s latch back into place and stuffed the torn fabric into her pockets. She moved swiftly across the room to twist the lights off and then hurried back to Dani’s side. “We need to block the door,” she hissed.
“With what? We can’t move the chair. And whoever it is will know someone’s been here.” Dani searched the room while trying to restrain her own panic. Someone knew the hidden areas of Ironwood well enough to use the place as a murder house. And now the heavy sound of footsteps grew closer. Her gaze landed on the massive window. “Help me.”
She crawled on top of the window seat, grabbed the window’s ancient latch, and pulled as hard as she could. It moved enough for the window to shudder open a couple of inches.
“You pull, I’ll push,” Jaymee whispered.
Dani did as she was told, but the window remained stuck. And the footsteps were closer. Heavy shoes. Work boots of some sorts. Measured, even strides. Most likely a man. A man who knew where he was going. Straight for the library.
Jaymee looked around wildly. “Oh for Christ’s sake. The window seat opens. Get inside.”
Dani hopped in first, curling her body into as tight a ball as possible. Jaymee followed, wedging beside and half on top of Dani until they could pull the seat shut. Dani grunted under her friend’s weight, and Jaymee shushed her. Jaymee’s thick brown hair fell against Dani’s nose, and she was grateful for the sweet scent of strawberries that helped dilute the mustiness of the window seat.
The sound of the antique doorknob turning seemed as loud as a canon blast. Dani gripped Jaymee’s arm as the door opened and the footsteps were less than ten feet away. Through a sliver of space in the warped wood, Dani saw the lights flicker back to life. Then, men’s boots. Large feet. Tan trousers.
“You two are in big trouble.”
27
Angry was a massive understatement. Blood pumped through his veins with such force, his head throbbed. He strode across the room to the only place the two women could be hiding. He yanked open the window seat and sure enough, two sheepish faces stared up at Cage.
“Hiya, Romeo.” Jaymee’s lopsided grin only made him angrier. He grabbed her hand and hauled her out of the wooden box and then reached for Dani.
Her face turned the color of a tomato as she scrambled out. “You scared us to death.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Cage snapped. “Imagine my surprise when I drove past during my patrol and saw Jaymee’s attempt at hiding the car. You’re lucky it was me and not another officer, or you two would have been hauled into the station.”
“I wanted to find the blueprints. Took a chance they were in this room.”
“What are you talking about? You had them.”
“Not the originals.” Dani quickly repeated everything Grace had told her earlier that night about CaryAnne’s last moments.
“So you two…” he saved his harshest glare for Jaymee. She knew better than this. “Decided to break in here?”
“How can I break into my owned damned house?” Dani threw up her hands. “This room has been cleared–Landers told me that. I have every right to explore.”
“Not while it’s still under the control of the police, and there is a murderer skulking around. Did you ever stop to think that Ben Moore i
s a mile away? That he could have easily walked down here, and that if he is the killer, you were here without anyone else knowing?” Cage eyed the papers clutched in Dani’s hand. “What good are these?”
“They can help clear your name,” she snapped. “If we find the cache–and after seeing this chair I’m certain there is one–we might find evidence to clear you.”
“And you might piss off the killer like the two men we hauled up from the basement.”
“I’m willing to take that chance.”
They glared at each other, pink dots of anger blossoming across Dani’s fair cheeks. Fear and frustration mounted in Cage. “I’m not. My sister was willing to take a chance for a friend, and it got her killed.” He turned to Jaymee. “And you of all people are going along with this?”
Tears rose in his friend’s eyes. Jaymee wiped them away and shook her head.
“What the hell?” Dani looked between the two of them, putting her hand on Jaymee’s shoulder. “Why is she crying? Why did you say that?”
“Jay, I’m sorry,” Cage tried to backpedal. “You know I didn’t mean it.”
Dani had her arm around Jaymee. “What are you talking about?”
“Lana’s murder,” Jaymee said. “We both lost a lot when she was killed.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Cage said. They’d had this conversation a dozen times. And he knew better than to be so callous. But damn! Both of them sneaking around like tough girls while the basement still reeked of the death it had been hiding. He had a right to be angry.
“I know that.” Jaymee turned to Dani. “But the fact remains that Cage lost someone he loved because of me and–”
Dani was already shaking her head, a lock of blonde hair fluttering with the movement. “I brought you here, not the other way around. If he wants to be mad at someone, he should be mad at me.” She stepped in front of Jaymee to face her, giving Cage a view of her rigid shoulders. “I’m sorry for what happened to you both, but that was the past, and I make my own decisions. I’ve got to find out what happened here for my own sake and for Cage’s. But you don’t have to be involved. It wasn’t fair of me to ask.”
“I want to be involved. I can’t have the first real friend I’ve had since Lana died get herself into trouble.” The mask of toughness Jaymee usually wore dissipated, and her expression was so tender Cage’s throat swelled with emotion.
“Thank you,” Dani said. “That means more than I can say.”
Jaymee wiped the moisture off her face. “But I think you two should talk before we leave. I’ll wait for you in the parlor.”
* * *
As Jaymee’s footsteps faded, Dani caught her breath and turned to face Cage again. The words lodged in her throat. She moved to brush past him, but he caught her gently by the arm. His chin touched the top of her head, and her eyes were even with the sliver of exposed collarbone beneath his deputy uniform. She longed to run her finger across the bone, up his neck, across his jaw. Into his hair.
“I’m sorry I got so angry.” Cage spoke in her ear. “I know you’re trying to help.”
“I am.”
“But I’m not changing my mind. I have lost people. I won’t let something happen to you because of me. My name will be cleared because I’m innocent.”
She stepped back to glare up at him. He still held her arm, his fingers firm but gentle enough to send a bolt of desire throughout Dani. “Your name isn’t going to be cleared unless something is found to clear it. The best chance for that is to find whatever is hidden in the house, and I am your best shot at pulling that off.”
“It also puts you in harm’s way.” He drew out the words in a thick accent, his voice husky and trembling.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Why are you doing this?”
She could have said she didn’t know, but as she stared up into his brooding eyes, the concern and sincerity etched across his forehead, she couldn’t speak anything but the absolute truth.
“Because I believe in you.”
Surprise flickered across his face, and then his eyes seemed to flame, his cheeks flushed, and his mouth parted. Dani couldn’t catch her breath, and she really didn’t care if she ever caught it. All she wanted was to stay in this raw moment, exposed and vulnerable and completely willing to be at his mercy.
She didn’t know what had happened to her in Mississippi to make her so bold, but there was no going back.
Sliding her hands up his broad chest, the uniform stiff beneath her fingers, she cradled his face in her shaking hands and brought his lips to hers.
His lips were smooth and soft, moving with hers as though the two of them had done this dance a hundred times before. His muscled arms closed around her, locking her in his embrace. She melted against him, capturing his breath with her own.
“Dani,” he whispered against her lips. “You are a Yankee devil. What have you done to me?”
She pulled away to smile up at him, shocked at her lack of embarrassment and the sense of peace his closeness brought her. “I think it’s you who’s worked your good old Southern boy charm on me.”
He kissed the top of her forehead, swept the hair off her face. “Please don’t get hurt.”
“I already promised I wouldn’t.”
Cage walked her to Jaymee’s waiting car after making sure the house was locked up tight. His large hand rested comfortably on the small of Dani’s back, and she wondered if her still racing heart would give her away to Jaymee.
Her friend’s sly smile said enough as Dani slipped into the passenger seat and Cage leaned against the open door. “You two go on home and stay there. Don’t do any more nighttime exploring.”
“We won’t,” Jaymee said. “Besides, we need a new plan of attack, right?”
“Right.” Dani finally broke away from Cage’s heated gaze to clear her thoughts. “I’m going to compare these blueprints to the ones from the church and see if I can find some discrepancies. Then tomorrow morning, I’ll pay Lee a visit.”
“We need to talk to Jeb, too,” Cage said. “Find out what he knows and see if he can talk to the Jackson ME about the bones.”
“Why don’t you meet her at the diner after you get some sleep?” Jaymee said. “Then you can talk to Jeb together while I’m slaving away.”
Cage gave Dani another heated look that made her insides mush. “I’ll see you then.”
He shut the door and headed to his patrol car. Dani watched him leave, trying to get control over her surging libido.
“Finally.” Jaymee put the car into drive and eased onto the road.
“What?”
“Cage is finally happy. Thank you.”
28
Dani again found herself seated across from Lee in his cramped office. A late night and lack of sleep left her desperately needing coffee, but the morning was already so hot she couldn’t bear the thought of drinking. Surely Roselea had a place that served iced coffee.
“This isn’t CaryAnne.” Lee’s glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and he held a battered looking magnifying glass over the picture.
“What does it say?”
“Camille and Sadie, looks like.”
“Do you know those names?”
“I don’t.”
“Why would John James have a picture of them?” This morning, Dani and Jaymee had discussed the repercussions of trusting Lee. Both agreed the negatives outweighed the positives. If anyone could help Dani make sense of the blueprints, it was Lee. And she needed him to clear Cage’s name. Trusting him was a necessary evil. Dani just hoped her instincts on Lee were right.
“I have no idea. But look again at the picture. The child’s style of dress is too simple for Southern aristocracy–and it still existed for some families, even after the Civil War. The Laurents were definitely one of those, at least until John James passed. This dress is plain, her hair is plated simply, not done up like many children of the age. And the picture itself is taken in a very plain room. Again, not typical
of the Southern elite.”
“All of the upper class of the Victorian age wanted to boast of their wealth,” Dani said. Lee was right. There was nothing of the sort in this picture. Just the girl sitting on a chair with the woman behind her.
Last night, in her stress-filled and semi-euphoric state, Dani hadn’t been able to categorize what bothered her about the picture. But the answer came to her in the early morning hours when she hovered on the cusp of sleep.
“Look at the little girl closely,” she told Lee. “I know the picture is pretty faded, but you can still see certain things about her.”
“Such as?”
“Her hair. You can’t see much because of the bonnet, but what you can see hangs in tight, natural looking curls. And her features. See how her eyes are almond shaped? Her lips, the bottom one fuller than the top?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand.”
“Now look at the woman. Obviously a slave, or a freed black. But look at her face–her features. See how much the child looks like her?”
Deep wrinkles embedded into Lee’s forehead. Once more, he studied the picture through the magnifying glass. “I suppose, yes, but the child’s skin is much too light.”
“Is it? Hard to tell with the state of the picture, and the fact that it’s a daguerreotype further distorts the color. Besides, people of mixed ethnicity can have a range of skin colors.”
“What are you getting at?” Lee set the magnifying glass aside and gazed up at Dani with disapproval in his eyes.
“John James had this picture hidden in his house, in a very unique hiding spot.” She gently tapped the old photo. “And maybe this picture is another one of his secret truths.”
“That’s a serious accusation about a local hero.”
“Who’s been dead nearly 100 years. And fathering a child with a slave was fairly common among his generation. It’s certainly not out of the realm of possibility.”
