The Bodyguard

by LENA DIAZ,

  “That would be nice, of course. But I’d like to start with something smaller, just the household accounts. I want to know what expenses we have and how to pay the bills. After all, that’s something I need to take care of, right? And I’ll have to get the banks to put me on Richard’s checking accounts, savings accounts, things like that. The monthly allowance he gave me in my own account won’t be sufficient to pay the costs of running this place, like the staff’s payroll.”

  “Again, that’s something I can take care of. If you’ll sign—”

  “Leslie. I’m not going to argue about this. It’s important to me. I want to learn what I need to know to run my own life, without someone else running it for me.”

  Leslie pursed her lips. “Of course. I wasn’t considering everything you’ve gone through, and that having control over such mundane things might be important to you.” She reached for the papers.

  Caroline pulled the papers away and slid them into the top desk drawer. “I’ll keep the papers here and think about signing. Okay?”

  Leslie glanced toward the drawer, not looking at all pleased. For a moment, Caroline wondered if she was going to lunge over the desk and try to grab the papers. But finally Leslie snapped her purse shut.

  “I’ll get what you need from the bank as well as the house account information. It will take a day or two. With it being Sunday, the bank’s not open, of course. I can come back on Wednesday. I should have everything together by then.”

  Caroline shoved out of the chair and walked Leslie to the door. “Wednesday sounds perfect. We can have lunch out back by the pool. Wear something casual. It will be fun.”

  “Fun.” Leslie frowned again. “I’ve never seen this side of you, Caroline. I must say, it’s going to take a bit of getting used to.”

  When the front door closed behind Leslie, Caroline slumped against the wall. She ran a shaking hand through her hair and stood for several minutes until she felt calm enough to go back into Richard’s office.

  No, her office. She went inside and stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the glass. The energy she’d had earlier seemed to desert her now. She was tired, so tired, and the day was only half over. She had so much to do, like telling Alex and Luke about the documents Leslie had tried to get her to sign.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Ashton?”

  She turned at the sound of the head maid’s voice. “Hello, Natasha. I’m sorry if I was a bit...abrupt earlier.”

  The maid gave her an uncertain look, as if she wasn’t sure Caroline was going to run shrieking from the room tearing at her hair.

  Caroline sighed. “Was there something you wanted?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am.” She held out a small stack of envelopes. “The mail. I usually place it on Mr. Ashton’s desk, but I...wasn’t sure where you might want it.”

  Progress already. The maid had actually asked her preference rather than ignoring her and going about her business.

  Caroline smiled and took the mail. “Thank you. I feel as if I’ve been sleepwalking around here for quite some time. I haven’t really been aware of the routines you and the others go through. I apologize for not paying attention. As clean and well run as this household is, it’s obvious the staff does an amazing job.”

  The woman stood a little straighter and her smile reached her eyes this time. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be sure to share your compliment with the others. They’ll appreciate it, very much. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No. And, please, continue to put the mail on the desk each day as you always do. This is my office now. I’ll read the mail in here.”

  Natasha bobbed her head and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Caroline crossed to the desk. She was about to sit, when she thought better of it. Richard’s chair was far too big for her and it still smelled of the spicy cologne he favored, the cologne she’d once loved but had grown to hate.

  Tomorrow, she’d have one of the maids throw the chair away or give it to charity.

  She tried to scoot one of the guest chairs behind the desk instead, but it was too heavy. And pushing it across the plush carpet made her incision hurt. She gave up and plopped down in the guest chair right where it was, on the opposite side of the desk from where Richard must have sat when he was in the office.

  The mail contained bills and a few letters from people whose names Caroline didn’t recognize, addressed to her.

  Surprised someone would send her anything, since she never received any personal mail, she opened the first one. The letter was short but touching, an expression of sympathy from someone who’d worked with her husband. Caroline appreciated the sentiment, even if her own opinion of her husband was a hundred-eighty degrees different than theirs. She’d have to make a point of getting some thank-you notes so she could respond.

  The second letter was much shorter than the first. And right to the point. Caroline pressed her hand to her throat as she read it then read it again. She set the note down and opened the drawer where she’d put the papers Leslie had wanted her to sign. When she finished reading them, she was shaking so hard the pages were making rattling noises. She let them flutter to the top of the desk and put her head in her hands.

  * * *

  LUKE STRAIGHTENED IN the driver’s seat of his beat-up Thunderbird, parked beneath one of the centuries-old oak trees lining the street next to the Ashton mansion. With Mitch’s death so raw and fresh, he wanted nothing more than to drown his grief in a bottle of tequila. But that wouldn’t bring Mitch back, and it wouldn’t catch whoever had murdered him. Luke figured his best shot at catching the killer was to keep working the Ashton case. Which was why he was sitting outside Caroline’s house, instead of getting drunk like he wanted. That and the fact that he was too worried about Caroline’s safety to leave.

  The mansion took up an area the size of an entire city block at the outskirts of Savannah. And there was definitely something strange going on inside. The front door might as well have been a revolving door as often as it had been used since Caroline had gotten home from the funeral.

  First to come in was Caroline with her lawyer, Leslie Harrison. After the lawyer left, the place was quiet for another hour. But that was when things got interesting and a bit crazy. Over a dozen men from Stellar Security came in and out of the front door, as if there was some kind of meeting going on inside. That had certainly piqued Luke’s interest and had him craving to go up the front steps and knock on the door, in spite of the agreement that he was supposed to hang back. But he waited in the car, taking photos and recording everyone who came and went. Security guard after security guard exited the house until he suspected there weren’t any left inside.

  Was it possible Caroline had fired them?

  Why would she do that? Alex wanted her to keep everything status quo. Caroline definitely needed protection right now, at least until her husband’s killer was caught. If she’d changed her mind and wanted Luke’s company to protect her, the problem was that he was the only one available. His other men were all out on assignment.

  A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face. Even in the shade it was probably close to ninety degrees. He debated turning the car on to run the air conditioner for a few minutes. But he’d probably feel even hotter once he had to turn it off again.

  His phone vibrated on the seat beside him. When he saw who was calling, his gaze shot to the front windows of the mansion. Sure enough, Caroline stood at the glass with a cell phone pressed to her ear, looking right at him.

  He picked up the phone. “Is everything okay?”

  “No, Luke. Everything is not okay.”

  Chapter Seven

  Caroline had insisted that she and Luke have dinner before she told him whatever it was that had shaken her up so much. He didn’t kno
w why she’d insisted on waiting, but he sensed she was near the breaking point and needed a few moments of “normal” in order to cope. That was the only reason he didn’t press her. That, and the fact that neither of them had eaten since the funeral, and he figured it would do them both some good.

  But the wait was driving him crazy. He needed to do something to catch Mitch’s killer instead of sitting here doing nothing. His frustration with the delay was compounded when Caroline entered the sunroom at the back of the mansion carrying a tray of sandwiches and drinks. He jumped up from his seat at the small café table and hurried to take the tray from her.

  “Shouldn’t the cook, or maid, or whoever works for you, bring this in here instead of you carrying it through the house? You were only released from the hospital this morning.”

  Her face flushed and she took a seat while he set the tray in the middle of the table.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I hadn’t even thought to ask. It will take a while for the staff, and me, to get used to doing things differently now that Richard is gone.”

  He frowned. “‘Differently’?”

  “Please, have a sandwich. And some iced tea. I’m sure it must have been horribly hot sitting out in that car.”

  Her overly bright smile and evasive answer told him far more than she realized, and confirmed what he’d suspected when she’d opened the front door herself and ushered him inside. The staff basically ignored her. Luke couldn’t imagine Richard answering his own door. A butler or maid would have done that for him and would have seated the guest, then arranged refreshments.

  Rather than embarrass her by pointing out what to him was obvious—that she should fire every last one of the idiots who supposedly worked for her—he quickly finished off a half sandwich and emptied a glass of blessedly cold tea. Caroline ate very little, probably because she was so focused on her manners.

  Her back was ramrod straight, her left hand in her lap holding her napkin, which she daintily wiped at the corners of her mouth after every bite, whether she needed to or not. He also noted that she didn’t look at him and mostly kept her eyes downcast.

  Curious to see what she would do, he propped his elbows on the table. He was pretty sure that was a big no-no according to fancy etiquette rules.

  Caroline’s gaze flicked toward him, widening, but she quickly looked away. She took another sip of her water, then dabbed at her mouth with the napkin.

  Testing her again, he pushed his plate of food away. “That was a delicious dinner, thank you.”

  Sure enough, she immediately stopped eating, even though her plate was mostly full.

  “You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can get you?”

  He sighed and sat back. “I’d really like to know what got you so spooked. What’s going on?”

  Her lips pressed together and she stared out the windows at the sparkling pool behind the house. “Do you know how to swim?”

  He followed her gaze, not sure where she was going with this. “Yes.”

  “Is it fun? I always thought it would be. Fun.”

  “You own a pool and you don’t know how to swim?”

  She shook her head. “It was Richard’s pool, not mine. And, no, I don’t know how to swim. My husband always said he was worried I’d burn too easily out in the sun because of my pale complexion.” She tapped the arm of her chair. “But that’s not the real reason he didn’t want me to know how to swim.”

  “What was the real reason?”

  “Fear. Richard liked to invent new ways to control me, to make me afraid. I always figured one day he’d use the pool to teach me one of his lessons. I’m sure he would have, eventually. He just never got around to it.”

  Luke scooted forward in his chair. “Tell me about these lessons.”

  She shook her head. “No. That’s not something I’m going to share.”

  “But you are sharing, aren’t you? You’re telling me little bits and pieces of your life, how your husband controlled you and allowed—or perhaps encouraged—the servants to pretty much ignore you from what I’ve seen.”

  She bowed her head. “Yes.”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, why share even some of it?”

  Her mouth curved into a harsh smile. “Because I’d hoped that I’d never have to admit the truth to anyone. I’d hoped to keep my shame to myself. Earlier this year, for the first time, I shared a tiny part of what was going on with someone I thought I could trust.”

  “Your husband’s lawyer, Leslie Harrison.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did something happen earlier? When she was here?”

  She stared at the pool for a moment before answering. “You and Alex were right to doubt her.” She rose from her chair. “I’m ready to show you why I called you.”

  Luke scrambled out of his chair and hurried after her. She led him through the maze that was the mansion, to the front room just off the foyer. He barely had time to realize it was probably her husband’s office, when she picked up some papers from the massive desk. She handed an envelope to him.

  “Read this first.”

  The short missive inside was written in carefully printed block letters.

  I KNOW YOU KILLED HIM. I KNOW THE WILL IS FAKE. YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS.

  “How did you get this?”

  “One of the maids brought it in. From the looks of the envelope, it came through regular mail.”

  “When?”

  “Today, I guess. The maid brought it to me shortly after I got home.”

  He placed the letter and envelope back on the desk. “We need to call Alex and Detective Cornell.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Why? So they have more evidence that makes me look guilty?”

  “No. So they have more evidence that someone is trying to hurt you, that you’re the target.”

  She grew very still. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that it’s most likely the killer sent that note. He’s trying to threaten you, scare you. Maybe that’s why he killed Mitch. But frightening you isn’t his only goal. He wants to torture you, by making you look guilty.”

  “Well, if that’s true, goal accomplished.”

  He started to round the desk toward her, but she held up her hand. “Wait. That’s not all. Leslie tried to get me to sign something earlier today. I thought it was a simple power of attorney, and I told her I wanted to take control of my own affairs now, that I didn’t want to give up control to her, but I would think about it. She tried to take the document back, but I put it in the drawer. She was fairly nervous about that. After I received that letter—” she waved toward the note he’d just set down “—I took a fresh look at what she wanted me to sign.” She pointed at some papers on another part of the desk.

  Luke picked them up, saw the top page was, as she’d said, a typical-looking power-of-attorney form, but then he read the second and third pages. He set the documents down.

  “I can see why she was nervous and didn’t want you to read the rest. Did she really think you would sign over a huge portion of Ashton Enterprises to her? And make her a voting board member?”

  “Apparently so. And the way I’ve allowed everyone to trample over me for the past few years, I shouldn’t be surprised that she thought she could get away with it. Everyone tries to control me or profit off me in some way.” Her blue eyes lifted to his. “Except you. You haven’t tried to take advantage of me, to push me around. You’re the first person who has really listened, and cared enough to look out for my interests. I never would have thought to hire Alex if it weren’t for you. And I probably would have signed that paper Leslie gave me if Alex hadn’t warned me about being extra careful and holding no one above suspicion.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes. “And what do you get in return for he
lping me? Your friend is killed.”

  Without stopping to think about how she might react, he moved around the desk and gently pulled her toward him, holding her close. At first, she stiffened, but then she melted against him. He reveled in the feel of her softness molded to his hardness and rested his chin against the top of her head.

  He told himself he was holding her to make her feel better, but he realized that wasn’t the whole truth. Holding her made him feel better. For the first time since losing his friend, he felt some of the tightness in his chest begin to ease. He selfishly held her, using her as his lifeline, a balm to his troubled conscience.

  “I lost a good friend today,” he whispered against her hair. “But I know Mitch wouldn’t want either of us to wallow in guilt over his death. He’d want us to work together and find justice.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he pulled back and looked at her. “It’s not your fault.”

  “My brain knows that, but my heart is having a lot harder time with it.”

  She moved out of his embrace and wrapped her arms around her waist. “What do we do now?”

  He resisted the urge to pull her back into his arms, just barely.

  “For one thing, I think you should fire Leslie.”

  Her face paled and her eyes took on a haunted look. “I know. I will. But not today. That’s not an easy conversation, especially after she helped me escape Richard. I owe her so much.”

  “You don’t owe her your company, your wealth, and that’s what she tried to take. She basically tried to steal it from you, hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

  “You’re right. And I will take care of it, just not today.”

  He didn’t like that, but it was her decision to make. “I recommend you don’t wait too long. She knows too much about you and your holdings, enough to be dangerous if she can’t be trusted, which she’s proven she can’t.” He waved at the letter and the power-of-attorney document. “Are you going to call Alex and Cornell?”