The Secret Heiress

by Terri Reed

  Don and Caroline moved aside for Mary to help Elijah with the water and straw. When he’d had his fill, he lay back and closed his eyes.

  “I’ll stay with him,” Mary told them as she eased herself into a chair.

  They bade Elijah good-night. Don urged Caroline out of the room.

  When they were alone, she said, “Secret passages? This house just keeps getting weirder.”

  “Let’s check your room.”

  Inside her bedroom with the door firmly closed, Don said, “You take that side of the room and check the walls. If there’s a passageway it should sound hollow.”

  With flashlight in hand, Don moved to the wall and rapped his knuckles against the wood. For several moments, quiet tapping filled the room. Finally they met in the middle of the back wall at the wardrobe. Using his shoulder, Don pushed at the large piece of furniture. It wouldn’t budge. He dropped down and shined the flashlight on the wardrobe’s feet. They were bolted to the floor. Frustration tightened the muscles of Don’s neck. “Nothing.”

  He straightened and opened the wardrobe doors. “This is big enough for someone to hide in.”

  “That’s creepy,” Caroline stated with an edge to her voice.

  “Yeah, it is.” He inspected the back panel. Flimsy wood, but firmly in place as far as he could tell.

  A knock sounded on the door. Don crossed the room and pulled the door open. Horace stood there, his dispassionate expression the same as when he’d opened the door upon their arrival.

  “The sheriff is downstairs,” Horace said.

  “Good. Thank you, Horace.” Don motioned for Caroline to follow him. They descended the stairs to find a tall, lanky uniformed man with a thick mustache talking with Samuel and Abigail. The twins stood nearby, inspecting the nativity scene on the oak table.

  “Sheriff George Gantz, my niece Caroline Tully and her fiancé, Don Cavanaugh,” Samuel said as Don and Caroline joined them.

  “I understand someone attacked you, Ms. Tully?” Sheriff Gantz questioned.

  “Yes, sir.” She went into detail about the attack.

  “I searched the house and couldn’t find any evidence of a break-in,” Samuel said.

  Don took Caroline’s hand. She jerked in surprise but didn’t pull away. Hopefully she’d forgiven him for his unprofessional behavior earlier. Kissing her wasn’t part of the job.

  But getting to the bottom of who’d locked them in the attic and set the smoke bomb was. He leveled a look at Landon and Lilly. “So were those homemade smoke bombs or leftovers from July?”

  The boy flushed a crimson color. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lilly merely raised an eyebrow.

  “What’s this about smoke bombs?” asked Samuel.

  “Someone locked us in the attic earlier before Caroline was attacked and set off a very colorful display of smoke,” Don replied.

  Samuel scowled and turned his attention to his children. “Landon, Lilly. Do you know anything about this?”

  Lilly snorted. “No. We didn’t do anything.”

  Landon kept his gaze averted from his father and Don. The boy couldn’t have looked guiltier if the word was emblazoned across his forehead. But Don doubted the kid had acted alone. No doubt his sister had instigated the prank. She was the one who’d seen them go into the attic.

  “Of course you didn’t,” Abigail said. She waved a bejeweled hand. “It had to have been the intruder Caroline says was in her room.”

  Beside him, Caroline stiffened. He squeezed her hand.

  The smoke had been a childish prank. He could deal with that. And he would when he had a moment alone with the kid. The intruder was another story. Samuel and Horace had reported no visible signs of a break-in when they’d returned from inspecting the house. Don wasn’t sure he bought their assessment, but he wasn’t going to leave Caroline’s side to do his own inspection. He needed to find a moment alone with the sheriff.

  “Elijah said there are secret passageways in the house,” Don said, his alert gaze taking in the family’s reaction.

  Lilly and Landon glanced at each other and snickered. Abigail sighed and Samuel gave a rueful chuckle.

  The sheriff’s gaze sharpened. “Passages?”

  “I’m sorry to say that is untrue,” Samuel said. “My father used to tell Isabella and me that tale when we were kids. Believe me, we searched this house from top to bottom and never found any hidden tunnels or passageways. It’s a tall tale.”

  Don should feel relief to know there was no basis of truth in Elijah’s claim, yet wary unease lingered. He didn’t trust Samuel. Don looked around at the low ceiling in the parlor and remembered the gabled attic and narrow staircase up. A lot of secrets could be hidden with that sort of architecture.

  “There doesn’t seem to be any danger at the moment,” the sheriff said. “But to be safe, I’ll have a deputy swing by again in the morning to check on you all.”

  “Thank you, George, I appreciate you coming out here on Christmas Eve.” Samuel shook the sheriff’s hand.

  “Glad no harm was done,” Gantz said with a glance toward Caroline. “I would suggest you all make a habit of locking your doors.”

  Her lips pursed but she didn’t answer.

  “I’ll walk you out, Sheriff,” Don said, tugging Caroline out the door with him.

  Once they were outside and away from the family, Don said, “Sheriff, I’d like to show you something.”

  Don led Sheriff Gantz to the destroyed tree trunk. Shining his flashlight’s beam, he gestured to the burned crack in the middle of the massive live oak. Don watched to see what Gantz’s take would be. Shadows obscured the angles of the sheriff’s face but not the hike of his eyebrows as he studied the damage.

  Caroline gave Don a quizzical look. He was glad for her patience and silence as the sheriff inspected the body of the trunk.

  Gantz rubbed his chin. “It looks like this oak was deliberately felled. Those bits and pieces of metal aren’t from lightning.”

  Bingo. Don was glad to know the sheriff was sharp and observant. “I’m thinking a low-grade IED. Not as sophisticated as some I’ve seen, but it got the job done.”

  “Just like my door,” Caroline interjected.

  Sheriff Gantz’s gaze swung to Caroline. “Door?”

  Don explained about the bomb at Caroline’s apartment. “The Boston Police Department said if the device had been facing up instead of down, Caroline would have died from the blast.”

  “You didn’t tell me that,” Caroline said in a hushed voice.

  He hadn’t seen the point in scaring her with the detail. “Whoever set up your explosive was an amateur.” Don pointed to the trunk of the tree. “This one was a better attempt.”

  “Why blow up the tree?” Caroline asked.

  Don exchanged a look with the sheriff.

  “As a distraction,” Don stated.

  “For your attacker to enter the house unseen. All it would take is one unobserved moment to sneak in and hide,” finished the sheriff. “No wonder there weren’t any signs of forced entry. The unidentified suspect was too good to leave any evidence behind.”

  SIX

  A shudder ripped through Caroline. Don slipped his arm around her. She’d endured a great deal this past week. More than most people could bear. But he’d be here for her if it became too much.

  “Another thing. When we were driving here from the airport, a dark green Chevy S-10 pickup tried to force us into a head-on collision,” Don informed Gantz.

  “You get a license plate?”

  Don shook his head. “Plates had been removed.”

  “Sheriff, do you know Dr. Reese?” Caroline asked.

  Gantz nodded. “Y
es, ma’am. He’s as fine a doctor as they come. Why do you ask?”

  “You are aware that Mr. Elijah Maddox is ill?” Don asked.

  “I’d heard as much. But I understand it isn’t a life-threatening disease.”

  “It shouldn’t be, but Mr. Maddox isn’t getting better.”

  “He’s convinced someone is trying to kill him,” Caroline said.

  “Does he have any proof?” Gantz’s tone was sharp.

  “No,” Don answered. “We intend to talk to Dr. Reese as soon as possible.”

  “As will I,” Gantz promised. “In the meantime, if you have any more trouble, you have Horace give my office a call. I don’t live too far from here. I’ll have the electric company out here first thing in the morning to repair the downed electrical wires and have my crime-scene techs gather what they can from the tree. However with the rain, any evidence will most likely be washed away.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.” Don shook his hand.

  Worry churned in Don’s gut as he and Caroline made their way back inside the house. He couldn’t leave her in her room alone and they couldn’t stay the remainder of the night, or morning as the case may be, in the same room, either. There had to be somewhere safe in the house. Someplace she could rest without fear.

  “Come on.” He guided her up the stairs and down the hall to Lilly’s door. He knocked softly.

  “Don? What are you doing?” Caroline tugged to free her hand.

  He held on. “I saw bunk beds in her room.”

  A moment later, the teenager cracked open the door. Half of her face was visible in the beam of the flashlight. “What?”

  Ignoring the surly tone, Don said, “Your cousin needs to stay with you for the rest of the night.”

  Lilly frowned. “No, she doesn’t.”

  “Yes, she does,” Don insisted, not about to let this girl deny Caroline entry. He gestured to Caroline’s neck where the marks were still visible. Knowing she’d been hurt twisted his gut into knots. “We need your help, Lilly.”

  The kid’s gaze darted to Caroline, drifting down to Caroline’s neck where her delicate skin was marred with light bruises, and back to Don. She rolled her eyes but stepped back and opened the door wider.

  “This is not a good idea,” Caroline whispered to Don.

  “You have a better one?” he whispered back.

  She shook her head. Then she crossed the threshold into the teen’s domain. “Thank you, Lilly. I appreciate it.”

  Lilly grunted her acceptance of the thank-you.

  Don shut the door behind Caroline. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. But to be on the safe side, he grabbed a pillow and blanket from his room and made a makeshift bedroll outside Lilly’s bedroom door. No one was getting in or out, without him knowing.

  Holding her candle up, Caroline used the glow to examine Lilly’s room. The pink walls notwithstanding, the covers on the bunk beds were also pink. The dresser was painted pink. A pink fuzzy chair butted up against a white vanity with pink flowers decorating the edge of the mirror. It was like stepping into a ball of cotton candy.

  “You like pink,” Caroline commented.

  Lilly climbed into the bottom bunk and blew out the candle on the table beside her. “I detest pink.”

  “Then why is your room so pink?”

  “Mom’s doing. It’s been this way since I was kid.” She rolled over, presenting Caroline with her back. “G’night.”

  Shaking her head at the teen’s rudeness, Caroline climbed up the ladder to the top bunk and blew out her candle. Not sure what to do with the holder now, she settled on placing the unlit candle on the corner of the mattress against the wall. She burrowed under the pink cover.

  Lord, please keep me safe. Keep us all safe.

  She prayed like she hadn’t in two years. With fervor and heartfelt pleas. She silently recited scriptures, needing the comfort and assurance from God’s word like she never had before.

  God is my rock, my refuge and my ever-present help in trouble.

  She was in trouble. Someone wanted her dead. And the only thing standing between her and an assassin was Don.

  Muted daylight awoke Caroline. She was still tired from so few hours of sleep. She shifted on the narrow bunk bed, her back aching from the limited space. She missed the comfortable mattress she’d started the night on in her designated room. Remembering the attack, the grip of fingers digging into her neck, sent a shudder coursing through her. At least she’d made it through her first night in the Maddox house alive.

  She slipped from the top bunk, her bare feet landing on the pink shag rug. The floorboard creaked beneath her. She sent a quick glance at the huddled figure on the lower bunk. Lilly still slept. The girl’s dark hair fanned over the pillow and covered her face, she curled in the fetal position, her hands fisted in the pink covers. Tenderness filled Caroline. No matter how irritating or rude Lilly was, she was still a child.

  The yearning for children of her own hit Caroline with the force of a physical blow. She and Cullen had talked about having several because Caroline wanted her children to have siblings. Growing up an only child had at times been lonely and had added to her sense of displacement.

  Caroline wanted a big family, a loving home. A place where there was no question she belonged.

  Now she despaired she’d never have that. Doubted she’d ever allow herself to hope again. To trust her heart fully to another man again. Shaking off her melancholy thoughts, she opened the bedroom door and barely stopped herself in time to keep from tripping over Don. He was stretched out on his back across the threshold, his head resting on a pillow, a blanket covering his torso. His eyes were closed.

  Her heart melted. He took his job seriously. But did he care for her? Did she want him to?

  Over the past year, she’d often thought of Don, remembering his kindness, his handsomeness, part of her wishing he’d asked her out, but yet thankful he hadn’t, because she wasn’t sure her demolished heart would ever be free to love again. She bent to touch his T-shirt-clad shoulder.

  His eyes popped open. “You okay?”

  Affection infused her. His first concern was for her. Not if something external was wrong. She felt special, cared for.

  Slow down, girl. He’s doing his job.

  The thought slapped down the gentle emotions rising to the surface. She was paying him to be concerned about her. And just because he’d kissed her with so much enthusiasm last night didn’t mean his feelings went deeper than client-employer. He’d never shown more than polite interest, until last night. And letting herself wish otherwise would only lead to more pain she didn’t want to feel.

  She pasted a smile on her face. “I’m fine. But you must be hurting. That floor can’t be comfortable.”

  A slow grin spread across his lips. “I’ve had a worse night’s sleep.”

  During his time in the Middle East, no doubt. Still, he shouldn’t have to sleep in the hall. She stood and reached out to help him up. He slid his bigger, callused hand in hers, sending fissures of warmth up her arm, making her yearn for more. How could such an innocent touch stir such need in her?

  When he was standing, she withdrew her hand. Immediately she felt bereft of his touch.

  He tucked a curl behind her ear. “You sleep okay?”

  The light wisp of his finger brushing her skin sent a frisson tumbling through her. She took a step way, needing some distance between them. “Decently. But we have to figure out some other sleeping arrangement. I won’t have you sleeping on the floor again.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “All part of the job.”

  Indeed. But she still didn’t want him to suffer unduly on her account.

  Elsewhere in the house, the sound of jingle bells on a door opening and closing reminded
her of the significance of the day. “Merry Christmas.”

  His expression softened. “Merry Christmas.”

  She stared up into his blue-green eyes. Images of tropical islands and white-sand beaches danced across her mind. Her and Don romping through the surf, hand and hand. A couple. On their honeymoon.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked. “You have a very dreamy expression right now.”

  She blinked, startled out of her musing. Her cheeks flamed, the burning sensation traveling to her very core. She put her hands to her cheeks to cool the heat flushing through her. What was it about Don that made her forget reason? “I need to go to my room.”

  With a lopsided smile, he gestured with his hand for her to lead the way. Conscious of him close behind her, she hurried to her room and slipped inside. She heard him chuckle as she closed the door. She rested against the portal. What was wrong with her? Her life was being threatened. Her biological grandfather was slowly dying, possibly being murdered. And she was indulging in fantasies starring her fake fiancé.

  She’d better get a grip on reality. Don wasn’t her fiancé. And she had no intention of going down the hazardous path of romance again.

  With that thought firmly in place, she went to the window and opened the curtain all the way, allowing gray daylight to spread over the room. Secret passageways. Hmm. They’d checked the walls. Where else could there be a secret opening?

  She checked the floorboards, pulling up the colorful area rug, but couldn’t find a hint of a trap door.

  However someone had been in her room. She’d heard him, seen his shadow. Felt his fingers around her throat.

  A chill of fright prickled her skin.

  Despite a locked door and a bodyguard, she’d come close to dying last night. She could only pray God would watch over them all.

  Don strapped an ankle holster to the inside of his left leg and jammed his Glock into the slot on the inner side. Pulling his jean leg down, he concealed the weapon. He hoped it wouldn’t be needed, but after last night, he had a feeling things were only going to get worse.