by Unknown
She pulled away slowly. “Are you saying you’re from the future?”
“Yes. I know it sounds bizarre—”
“Nick, it sounds utterly ridiculous. How am I supposed to believe that? How did you get here from your time?”
He glanced at the heart-shaped locket around her neck before touching the silver metal. “I believe this was what brought me here, but I don’t know. All I know is the moment you finally crossed over into the next world, I came back in time.” He took Abigail’s stiff hands in his. “How would I have known about your uncle and his threats the other day?”
“I don’t know.”
“There are so many things that you don’t know yet, and I’m afraid to tell you. Don’t you think I realize how crazy this sounds? The reason you and others commented about my clothes at the cemetery was because it’s an expensive brand of suits that I wear in my time. The clothing designer Giorgio Armani hasn’t even been born yet.”
Pulling away, Abigail covered her ears. How could this be? Was he being truthful, or was he insane?
“Abby,” he said, pulling her hands away. “You have to believe me. I’m telling you the truth.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “You’re saying you traveled here from the future to protect me?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Is someone going to kill me? If so, when?”
He looked at her and shook his head. “I’d rather not say.”
“But if you tell me, I will be prepared, or I will be able to stop it somehow.” Although she didn’t want to believe him, he seemed so serious. Maybe he really could see her future. Abigail would have to talk to her grandmother about this when they were alone.
“When we were back in my time,” Nick said, “with you as the ghost, we figured out who the suspects were. Your uncle and Anthony are on that list.”
“Who else?”
“Cassandra Brown. She was actually still alive in my time, and I talked to her before she died.”
“I don’t know this woman.”
“No, you don’t. She’s supposed to be engaged to Anthony. If she’s not, she will be soon.”
Abigail wrapped her arms around her middle as a hollow ache filled her. “Was that all the suspects?”
“I’d suspected Harry, but that was before I met him. I don’t suspect him now. But there is one more.”
“Who?”
“Lily.”
Abigail gasped and nearly flew off the seat. “Lily? You mean my maid?”
“Yes.”
“Why her?”
Nick’s expression changed, and Abigail could tell she wasn’t going to like this answer, either.
“What is it?” she asked. “What don’t I know about my maid?”
“That she was in love with your father,” he said softly.
Abigail stared at Nick in shock. But then she remembered the times during the past several years when she’d caught her father and Lily alone together. They were never doing anything improper, but her father always made excuses as to why they were together.
“But . . . why would Lily kill me?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that a few months after your death, Lily tries to sue Alexander for some of the money she thought should have been hers because she and Edward were planning to marry.”
With a groan, Abigail covered her eyes and sank back in the seat. This was all too much. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.
Nick gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to upset you. I told you I didn’t want to tell you.”
“I know. But let’s not talk about it anymore. I’m getting a headache. Besides, we’re almost to my grandmother’s house.”
“Anything you wish, Abby.”
In many ways, Abby’s grandmother reminded Nick of his mother. He connected with the older woman immediately, and she treated him as a friend. Abby’s grandmother supported his story because of her dream that something terrible would happen to Abby. She couldn’t say what it was, except that Nick had been sent to protect her granddaughter. Nick almost kissed Abby’s grandmother on the mouth when she said that, but instead, he coddled Abby and waited on her every time she turned around. He wanted to show her that although he might be insane, he still loved her.
Abby complained of a headache, which cut the night short. On the way home, she didn’t say much, just stared out the car window. Nick’s heart broke, knowing he was the cause. He shouldn’t have told her the whole truth, yet she needed to know.
“Do you want me to rub your neck?” he asked, scooting closer to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “It helps relieve tension headaches.”
“All right.” She offered him her back and removed her hat. As he worked her muscles with his fingers, she sighed. He
leaned closer and brushed his lips across her ear. “Will you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
Abby stiffened. “Whatever for?”
“For causing you so much doubt and heartache. It was not my intention. In fact, I hadn’t planned on telling you about where I’d come from. Unfortunately, there was no other way to answer your questions.”
A long stretch of silence lasted longer than he liked as he continued to rub her neck. Finally, she said in obvious frustration, “It’s just so unbelievable, Nick. As much as I want to believe you, logic dictates otherwise.”
“I know.” He kissed her ear. “Back in my time when you tried to convince me you were a ghost, I thought I’d gone cuckoo. That’s not an enjoyable feeling. But being with you and falling in love with you made everything worth it.”
Abby turned until her gaze met his. “We were in love?”
He nodded. “You fell as hard for me as I did for you.”
“Even though I was a ghost?”
Nick chuckled. “Yeah. Crazy, huh?”
She smiled and turned herself into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. “Then it wouldn’t be wrong for me to say I love you now, right?”
His chest clenched. “I love you, my dearest Abby. And I always will.”
How he hated himself for telling her she would be murdered, but maybe the truth would save her life.
Twenty-Three
In one week, Abby would be murdered.
Nick raked his fingers through his hair, not feeling any closer to finding the killer. In his early years as a detective, he’d never investigated a murder, so this was still new to him. He had to find out who wanted Abby dead before it happened. He would never be able to live with himself if she died a second time.
He convinced Abby to let him borrow one of her father’s motorcars. It only took a few minutes to figure out how the thing worked, and once on the road, he cursed the blasted thing for not going fast enough. It would take all day to get to there.
Nick wore one of the expensive suits Abby had purchased for him, along with the ridiculous-looking hat. Then again, the other men wore similar hats, and Nick had to fit in. Plus, the clothing looked more professional than what he wore while working at the newspaper, so perhaps he’d get more answers.
Nick had discovered that Alexander and Julia no longer lived in San Diego, but right here in Sacramento, so he drove to their home. As he parked in front of the two-story house, he realized Alexander must not have much money. Abby had told him as a ghost that her father had bought out Alexander’s stock in the newspaper. Apparently, nobody had showed the adopted brother how to budget his funds. Chips of paint had crumbled from the house, and the roof and broken-down porch were in desperate need of repair.
Nick walked to the front door and knocked, shaking the hard wood on its hinges. After a few minutes, the door opened. A lovely woman stood looking at him through a narrowed gaze. This was Alexander’s wife, Julia. Nick remembered her from the cemetery.
He removed his hat and nodded. “Mrs. Carlisle?” “Yes?”
“Hello, I’m Nick Marshal, attorney at law. I’m working with
partners
to investigate the Edward Carlisle estate. Will you allow me to ask you a few questions, please?”
Her gaze swept over him before a wide smile lit her face. She patted the back of her hair, which was pulled up in a messy bun, and opened the door wider. “Please, Mr. Marshal, come in. I would love to answer your questions.”
As he looked at the dingy furniture and tattered rugs, Nick wondered how Julia could stand to live in squalor after living almost as grandly as Abby did.
“Is your husband Alexander here too?”
“No, he’s at work.” She motioned to the sofa. “Would you like to take a seat?”
He sat on the edge and entwined his fingers, then rested them on his knees. “Thank you for giving me a few minutes.”
Julia sat in the single-cushioned chair next to him. “Does this have anything to do with Alexander’s lawsuit against Abigail Carlisle?”
Nick arched an eyebrow. So the man actually thinks he can get Abby’s inheritance? Nick would show him otherwise. “Yes, ma’am, it does.”
Julia squared her shoulders and swept the stray strands of hair away from her face. “What would you like to know, Mr. Marshal?”
As he studied her, Nick realized that if she took care of herself a little better, she would be a strikingly handsome woman. Perhaps she had been before the family had fallen on hard times.
“In your opinion, why shouldn’t Miss Abigail Carlisle receive the majority of her father’s estate, including the Sacramento Journal?”
“Well, mainly because the girl has no idea how to run a newspaper. My husband ran it with his brother when they first started it. The newspaper should go to my husband. He deserves it, Mr. Marshal.”
“But Miss Carlisle has other people to help her run it. She wouldn’t be doing it alone.”
“Well, my husband has just as much right to half of that estate as Abigail does,” Julia replied with a frown. “He was Edward’s brother.”
“Miss Abigail is Edward’s daughter, his heir. That holds more clout, Mrs. Carlisle.”
She huffed and folded her arms. “But Alexander was the one who helped Edward start the newspaper. Together, they combined their money and stocks to build the paper. And yet a few years into their business, Edward’s temper ruined my husband’s chance of success.”
“Tell me more,” Nick said. “Why did Edward break off ties with your husband?”
Julia stared at Nick for a long time, her lips pursed. “Edward was a lecherous sort of man,” she began finally. “His wife died when Abigail was five, but he didn’t mourn for long. Alexander didn’t like the way his brother acted. He didn’t like the way Edward would stay out all night with women and ignore his daughter.”
“What happened?”
“Many times Alex tried to reason with him, but Edward wouldn’t listen. One day I decided to say something. I felt so sorry for little Abigail. She needed a mother desperately, and I couldn’t be her mother.” Julia’s finger drew invisible lines in the sofa. “I met Edward in his office to talk to him.” A blush spread across her face, and she didn’t meet Nick’s stare. “He—he made improper advances and tried to have his way with me. Before anything happened, Alex walked in.”
Nick’s gut told him Julia wasn’t being entirely honest.
“My husband and Edward traded insults and threats. The next day, Edward bought Alex’s stock in the company and kicked him out. Edward actually accused me of flirting with him, if you can believe that.”
Nick bit his cheek to keep from grinning. Yes, he could believe it.
“Anyway,” Julia continued, “after that we moved away from Edward and Abigail, and we fell out of touch. Alex didn’t want to have anything to do with his brother.”
Nick nodded. “I understand, Mrs. Carlisle. But what I can’t understand is why your husband thinks he should get more of the newspaper if he was only in it for a few years.”
“Alex didn’t get a fair price for his share. Besides that, Mr. Marshal, did you not hear me say they are brothers? Isn’t that a good reason?”
Nick didn’t want to point out that Alexander was only the adopted brother. “Is there anything else you can think of as to why Miss Abigail should not receive the majority of her father’s estate?”
“My husband deserves it, I tell you,” Julia said rather crossly. “Abigail has had everything handed to her since she was a child. She’s been pampered beyond reason. I think she needs to grow up a little, just like Alex was forced to do after he and his brother parted ways. Alex has paid for his mistakes, and now the money should go to him. He has an heir that will carry on the Carlisle name. Edward doesn’t.” She raised her eyebrows. “Unless he has some illegitimate sons running around that we haven’t met yet, and that wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”
Nick recalled the elderly Cassandra saying something to that effect. “Miss Carlisle, do you know something I don’t?” He leaned toward her and offered his most charming smile. “Any tidbit of gossip might help your case immensely.”
Her amber eyes sparkled. “Indeed?”
“Oh, yes. I can assure you.”
Julia rubbed her hands together. “Well, my husband knew quite a lot about dear old Edward’s secret life.” She leaned forward. “I’d mentioned earlier what a lustful man Edward was. Well, after we moved, he had many affairs.”
“Do you have any names?”
On eachfinger, Julia named a woman. Lillian Burnett was not mentioned, which made Nick wonder if Abby’s maid had lied. Perhaps she had loved Edward but he didn’t return her feelings, and she had invented a romantic relationship that never existed. Then again, if Abby’s father was as amorous as Julia suggested, he probably would have welcomed Lily’s affection.
“I wonder why Miss Abigail didn’t know about these women.” Nick scratched his chin.
Julia laughed. “Because Edward wasn’t about to let his daughter know he was far from being a saint. She’d put him on a pedestal, and she’d have words with anyone who had a different opinion about her father. Edward wasn’t going to destroy that.” “Was he like this before his wife died?” Nick asked gently.
Sadness filled Julia’s eyes. “No, he made his wife very happy. Personally, I thought he chose the wrong woman to marry, but he insisted on marrying for money.”
“Weren’t his parents wealthy too?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t about to marry a woman in a lower class, even if she did love him with all her heart.”
She’d almost whispered the last part of her sentence, and Nick wasn’t sure he’d heard right. But as he studied Julia and noticed tears in her eyes, he guessed she’d been in love with Edward at one time. Was she speaking of herself when she said he wouldn’t marry a woman in a lower social class?
“Mrs. Carlisle, why didn’t Edward find a second wife and settle down?”
She blinked and the tears disappeared. “Because nobody was perfect enough to be a mother for Abigail, and since Edward spoiled her so much, he could never find the right woman.”
“Do you honestly believe he might have sired more children?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why haven’t the women come forth then? Wouldn’t they want Edward’s help?”
Julie chuckled, then leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “You didn’t know Edward Carlisle very well, did you?”
“Apparently not.”
“Well, if you knew him, you’d know how powerful he was. He would have paid the women to keep their silence and sent their brats to boarding schools far away.”
Nick stood and smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Carlisle. You have opened my eyes to a lot of things.”
She got to her feet and walked him to the door. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
As he climbed in his car, Nick considered adding Julia to his list of suspects. Obviously, she had been in love with Edward, and she still harbored injured feelings. But would the woman kill? She didn’t seem li
ke the type.
For the next few days, Abigail kept herself busy at the newspaper, learning as much as she could about the business. Harry was hesitant to show her the specifics, insisting that she couldn’t possibly run the paper. It bothered her that he had no faith in her abilities, as opposed to Nick, who always lifted her up and helped her believe in herself. Was it because he lived in a different era? Was it possible that men took women more seriously in Nick’s time?
One morning, she sat at her desk thinking about Nick. Should she believe his claim that he came from the future? If he was telling the truth, someone out there wanted her dead! If it was her uncle, she’d happily give him the money he asked for, even though he didn’t deserve it.
Abigail took a deep breath and focused on the next day’s issue. The sinking of the Titanic was still a very popular topic, especially with the investigation going on in New York to determine if the White Star Line was responsible for the deaths of over fifteen hundred people.
Nick had also explained the Titanic story to her, giving her details the newspapers didn’t mention. How could he know that the representative of the White Star Line had encouraged the captain of the Titanic to run all the engines at full-steam capacity? It was tragic that the ocean liner hadn’t been equipped with enough lifeboats to save everyone. Nick had mentioned that in the future, Hollywood would make several movies about the Titanic.
A knock sounded on the door, and Harry poked his head in the room. “Are you bored yet?”
“No, Harry,” Abigail said. “Come in.”
He smiled and entered the office, then closed the door behind him. “Have you looked over tomorrow’s edition of the paper?”
“Yes.”
“Do you approve?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Harry. The investigation of the sinking of the Titanic is very interesting, but it’s also extremely depressing. There should be more to lift our readers’ souls instead of discouraging them. Don’t you agree?”
Harry chuckled as he sat in a chair beside her. “My dear Abigail.” He took her hands in his. “This is why I don’t believe you should run the newspaper. This isn’t the society page. This isn’t the gossip column. We report the news, good or bad.”
