Offering him a brittle smile, Cady rose from the table and started gathering up the plates and bowls and silverware. “Let me put these in the dishwasher.”
“No, let me do it. You can start on that container.”
Hands full of utensils, she shook her head. “You cleaned up the intruder’s mess down here and made sure I ate something. The least I can do is tidy up the dishes.”
For a few moments, West watched her work with quiet efficiency. His heart ached to be able to enjoy her graceful presence every day. Yet, if she was telling him she wanted him out of her life, why did she look so sad? West shook himself and stood up. What was he thinking? Her world didn’t revolve around him. She had plenty to be sad about that had nothing to do with an imagined romance between them. He needed to keep his head in the game.
“I’m going to do a walk around the perimeter outside and then perform a room check inside.”
“All right.” She didn’t turn to look at him.
Heavyhearted, he got his jacket from the foyer closet. The autumn evenings were becoming a bit crisp. A slight crunch under his shoe betrayed that he’d missed a spot of dirt from the upended planter. He’d have to see to that later. He returned to the kitchen in order to exit through the back door, but Cady had gone. A floorboard creak from the living room told him she was in there, probably preparing to dive into that blast from her mother’s past.
As he reached for the doorknob, a small shriek arrested him. Turning, he raced into the living room, gun drawn. Cady stood in the middle of the area rug, her gaze darting around the room.
“Where is it?” Her stare settled on him.
“Where is what?”
“Olivia’s baby book. Where did you put it?”
“It wasn’t in here when I cleaned up.” He holstered his pistol.
“But I left it on that side table.” She pointed toward the table next to the Pabst chair.
“You’re sure you didn’t bring it upstairs with you at some point?”
Cady planted her hands on her hips and beefed up her stare to a glare. “I haven’t had a spare second to write in it since the day you charged home prematurely from the hospital. It should have been right here. Does that monster have Livvy’s baby book?” Her voice choked.
Without a second thought, West strode to her and drew her close. At least she didn’t pull away. Her chest heaved with a soft sob.
“I can’t bear the thought.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt, but he understood every word and the emotion that prompted it.
In his mind’s eye, he pictured the perp’s fingers slithering over the glossy pages and a shudder ran through him. Then molten steel flowed up his backbone and hardened into something icy and powerful. He’d felt anger before, perhaps even rage from time to time, but this exceeded anything he’d ever experienced.
“Ouch!” Cady wriggled away from him. “You have python strength.”
“Sorry.” West let his arms drop. “I was imagining what it might be like to get my hands on this creep.”
A cold smile stretched her lips. “You and me both.”
West’s ringtone sounded, and he checked the screen. “Brennan,” he told Cady and answered the call. “Is Darius all right?”
“Still hanging in there,” Bren said. “But that’s not why I called. I forgot to let you know that I finished linking all the security cameras, as well as motion sensors, around the outside perimeter of the house. You can access the feeds from my laptop in the study.”
“Wow! You got a lot done today.”
“That’s what I get paid the big bucks for.” The Kentuckian chuckled.
“Maybe someday that’ll be true.” West gave an answering laugh and ended the call. “I won’t need to go outside to perform a perimeter check, after all. Bren installed a full security system that I can access from his laptop. I can bring it in here while you go through the container.”
Cady shook her head. “Why don’t we go in there. If I sit here, I’ll be constantly thinking about that baby book.”
“Off we go then.” He hefted the container and they went into the study.
The walls of the large room were done in dark wood paneling alternating with equally dark bookshelves. The furnishings were genuine Gothic Revival, including the massive leather-top desk that occupied the center of the area rug.
“That’s an anachronism if I’ve ever seen one,” West said as he put the container down in front of one of the high-backed armchairs.
“What is?” Cady settled into the chair.
“Brennan’s laptop perched on that dinosaur of a desk.”
Cady let out a soft titter. “You’re not a fan of antiques?”
West bit back the quip that had leaped to his lips. He couldn’t say things like, I’m a fan of the woman who loves antiques. He didn’t have that right, and judging by their recent conversation in the kitchen, it didn’t look like he ever would.
Cady opened the tote, and West sat down at the desk and opened Brennan’s laptop. They knew each other’s passwords, so he had no trouble accessing both the current video feed and the video history. He spent an engrossing half hour studying the recordings. Nothing but a stray cat entered the property. How had the intruder accessed the house if he or she was not captured on video approaching it? And, once again, the intruder had not set off the interior security system by entering through a door or a window. All of these means of access were securely locked and showed no signs that they had been tampered with. Even if the intruder had possessed a key—highly unlikely since Cady’s wise rekeying of the property after she moved in—the alarm system would have gone off within seconds if the code were not entered. Doubly unlikely that the intruder would know the code as well as possess a key. No, there had to be a secret entrance to this house, most likely with a tunnel leading to it, and they had to find it before more people died—one special person in particular.
West’s gaze flew to Cady, whose attention was absorbed in a notebook she must have taken from the plastic container of her mother’s things. Even though Maylene had been raised in this house and might know the home’s secrets, how likely was it that anything in a tub full of child’s memorabilia would prove helpful to their current situation? Not all that likely. Rifling through the contents was nothing but a detour to what they needed to be doing. They had to return to their search for house plans.
Cady let out a sharp gasp and her head suddenly jerked up. She met West’s stare with eyes wide enough to display the whites around the irises. “My mother had a half sister who grew up with her in this house. One she never, ever mentioned to me in my whole life.”
ELEVEN
Cady stared open-mouthed at her mother’s diary notebook. The childish block letters expressed juvenile resentment, a storm in a teacup that sounded normal for siblings growing up in the same household. On a day several decades ago, her ten-year-old mother had written, H. may be my half sister, and Mother makes us share a bedroom, but that doesn’t mean she can get into my things.
Why had Mom never mentioned this sibling, a person who would be Cady’s aunt? Then again, Cady never talked about her own sister, Tracy. The memories were too painful. Had something happened with this sister in her mother’s childhood? Perhaps the sister had passed away. Perhaps not. Either way, something dark must lie here in her mother’s past for this half sister, H., to have been erased from the family history. At no time had Great-Aunt Anita mentioned this person, either, when Cady was little and they visited her in this house.
“Is a full name for this half sister noted anywhere in the diary?” West’s voice came from behind Cady’s chair where he was peering at the notebook over her shoulder.
“I don’t know. I’m not done reading.”
“Keep at it then. If this H. is still around, maybe she thinks she should have received the inheritance. It’s a lead to follow, anyway. I take
back thinking it would be a waste of time searching through this tub.”
West returned his seat at the desk and Cady went back to perusing the diary in her hands. She finished that one and went through two more diary notebooks that had been stored in the container. H. featured regularly in her mother’s childhood musings, but was always referred to by the initial, never the full name. Judging by the frequently resentful and sometimes angry tone her mother used when talking about her half sister, the relationship between the two had been rocky at best. But what had happened to make the break so final and complete that the other girl disappeared from family lore?
Cady clenched her jaw as she turned to the final page of the last notebook. C’mon, Mom, give us a hint here. Her gaze scanned the last entry and the blood iced over in her veins.
H. and I were fighting today, and she tried to smother me with my pillow. I fought her off and gave her a black eye. I got sent to my room without supper for the black eye because Mother thinks I’m making up the story about the pillow, but I’m not. H. is acting all innocent and surprised that I would claim something like that about a pillow fight. I won’t let her win. The word won’t was triple-underlined. Tonight, I’m going to do something about it.
Cady groaned. “Oh, Mother, what did you do?”
Was she wrong about her mother’s lack of homicidal tendencies? The significance of smothering by pillow wasn’t lost on Cady, though a nasty, juvenile pillow fight could be blown up into something more than it was in a young girl’s imagination. But if it were true, did her mother respond to H.’s assault in kind? What had happened? They needed to find out. But how?
“What’s up?” West’s question broke in on the hamster wheel of her thoughts.
She read the entry to him.
“Wow!” As he sat back in the desk chair, the vintage furnishing let out a loud creak. “We need to find out the story behind this. Maybe your great-aunt’s lawyer would know something. Sounds like he’s been working for the family for a long time.”
“Mr. Platte? Of course! Genius idea.”
“Then it’s back to Wyncote as soon as we can get an appointment. Maybe we’ll make it all the way to his office this time.” West grimaced.
A squawk followed by a wail came through the baby monitor Cady had brought from the living room into the study.
“Guess who’s up?” Cady rose. “She’ll likely be awake for a while now, and I won’t get to bed very soon. All of this upheaval has really messed with her schedule.”
West stood, hefting Brennan’s laptop. “I’ll keep this with us whatever room we’re in so that I can continually monitor the cameras. But other than that, I think we should take the rest of the evening to enjoy Baby-bug.”
“That sounds really nice.”
In a sense it truly did. In another sense, her heart ached. They would be acting like a real family—but it would be a facade. Once West had fulfilled his obligation to protect her, maybe he could put his guilt to rest. At that point, for her own sanity, she would have to establish healthy boundaries between them.
The rest of the evening passed peacefully. Mere minutes after Livvy went down for the night, Cady laid her weary head on her pillow and mentally said a small prayer. God, I know I’ve been keeping my distance from You since Griffon passed, and I’m still confused and hurting. But West’s faith seems as strong as ever, even though he lost a close buddy. I guess I can try to hang on to faith, too. If You’re not mad at me and still want to hear from me, please help us figure out what is going on and put a stop to it before anyone else gets hurt.
Seconds after her prayer ended, slumber claimed her.
An uncounted time later, an odd noise roused Cady. Her breath caught, and her ears strained. Thunder rumbled nearby, and the pitter-patter of raindrops against the windowpane reached her ears. No, the strange sound hadn’t been weather-related.
Cady lifted her head and stared toward the wall opposite her where the fireplace was. Next to the floor near the hearth, a thin line of light glimmered. As she watched, frozen, the steady glow, like that of a flashlight, grew to outline a doorway in the wall and the dark silhouette of a head and shoulders began to peek out from behind it.
Her paralysis fled. Heart pounding, Cady sat bolt upright and snatched her pistol from the bedside table. Holding the gun in both hands, she pointed it toward the shadow person who was attempting to enter her room.
“Stop where you are!” she shouted. Please, God, let West hear me. “I have a gun!”
The person let out a muffled grunt and their head withdrew. The secret door closed and blackness engulfed her bedroom once more.
From the front stairs, a caterwaul of creaks, groans and thudding footsteps assured Cady that West was coming. He burst through her door with a gun and small flashlight leading the way.
“I’m all right,” Cady called, lowering her pistol, “but someone was entering my room through a hidden panel on that far wall. They left as soon as I said I had a gun.”
West flipped on the light and Cady pointed to the spot. Amazing that there was absolutely no sign of a doorway. The ornately paneled wall looked solid and whole. The fireplace opening gaped at her benignly as if wondering what the fuss was about.
“I wasn’t dreaming.” Her tone was more defensive than she liked.
“I believe you. We knew someone had to be getting inside through a secret passageway. Now we just need to figure out where on this wall it is and how to open it.”
Cady glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table. Only 2:30 a.m... She’d barely been asleep for three hours. West was fully dressed and tidy, so he probably hadn’t slept at all, faithfully keeping watch all night.
Cady climbed out of bed and slipped her robe on over her pajamas and slid slippers onto her bare feet. “Let’s get to it, then. Now that we know where to look, we should be able to feel some sort of seam where the opening is.”
Twenty minutes later, she lifted her hands in surrender. If discouragement were a crown, she’d be wearing it. They’d examined every inch of the dark trim on light wood walls, including the chair rail.
“My prediction was false. If there’s a door seam here, it’s not discernable to the touch, much less visible.”
West stood back, scanning the wall with a frown. “The seam has to be behind some of that heavy trim. We may have to take apart your wall to find it. Whoever constructed the passageway was exceptionally clever. We’ve got to be more clever.”
Cady tapped her upper lip with a forefinger. “Hmm. If we can’t find the door seam, maybe we can locate the latch or button or whatever it is that trips it open. Somewhere in or around the fireplace would be the logical place to conceal something like that.”
“All right.” West knelt in front of the fireplace’s empty grate. “Let me move this out of here, so we can search thoroughly. The latch is bound to be well hidden so I wouldn’t be surprised if I have to stand up in the flue and get a little sooty to find it.”
“Freeze!” Cady cried as he leaned into the fireplace and grasped the grate. “Did you hear that?”
West looked at her over his shoulder. “Hear what?”
“As soon as you started tugging on the grate, I heard a slight click.”
“You mean the grate is the latch?”
“No.” Cady stepped forward and touched his shoulder where it was pressing against a lotus flower carved into the woodwork. “It’s this.”
She nudged West out of the way and shoved the heel of her hand against the center of the flower. The carving depressed into the wall. A sizable panel next to the fireplace, expertly encased in trim that hid the door seam, swung outward as softly as a whisper. A waft of cool air bathed Cady’s face, delivering a sudden memory.
Those few days ago, just before the intruder had hit her over the head, a chill had flowed over her and she’d shivered. At the time, she’d marke
d the reaction down to fear, but her chill hadn’t been born of an internal emotion—at least not entirely. It had been caused by the dank air from this dark passageway hidden in her home. A fresh shiver shook her.
* * *
West palmed his sidearm from its holster and rose swiftly, pressing Cady behind him. Flashlight and gun aimed into the opening, he stepped into the passage. No one lay in wait. A pent-up breath eased from his chest. The intruder was probably in full retreat, but he’d learned long ago not to make unverified assumptions about the enemy.
“This access point is all clear,” he called back to Cady. “Too clear. Whoever’s been using this route as their private entrance has housekeeping standards. I expected cobwebs and dirt, but the passage has been swept and dusted.”
Cady snorted. “No doubt, the creeper didn’t want to leave footprints in the dust in case the secret passage was exposed.”
“A fair deduction.”
She stepped up to the passage and peered into it. Her face was pale and her lips tremulous but judging by the set of her jaw and the gleam in her eyes, guts were gaining ascendancy over fear. She pointed deeper into the hidden hallway.
“There are stairs.” She started to move toward them, but West halted her with a gentle grip on her arm.
“Not you. Me.”
Cady planted her hands on her hips and stuck out her chin. “Not you. Us.”
“Our killer may have set booby traps for anyone coming after them. Or they may be lying in wait anywhere along the way.”
“Are you or are you not trained to perform dangerous reconnaissance missions?”
West flattened his lips. “But not in tandem with a civilian.”
“You’ve never escorted civilians through risky territory?”
How was he supposed to answer that? If he admitted he’d done so, Cady won the argument. If he denied doing so, he’d be lying.
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