Grave Secrets

by Trout, Linda

  Sara lowered herself to the arm of the chair as if she were unable to hold up her weight, her brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. Cat let herself out when she left earlier, but she’d never leave the door unlocked. And I checked it later to set the alarm.”

  “Are you positive? You’ve had an upsetting day so maybe you just thought you did.”

  Blinking, she chewed her lip again, apparently deep in thought.

  “I—I think it was today. I could’ve sworn…”

  She finally looked him square in the eye. “I’m sorry. I must have made a mistake. The only plausible explanation is I forgot to lock it.” Her voice sounded composed, even if her expression still looked doubtful.

  “You sure?” The hairs on his neck stood up again. Living in this huge house all alone, he would almost bet the woman never left anything unlocked. Especially in the upscale neighborhood where thieves looked for every opportunity to break in, it was never safe to leave a door open. She appeared to be very meticulous regarding her house and everything in it. Including locking the doors. But he’d been wrong before, so he ignored the uneasy sensation.

  “Yes. I’m just grateful you weren’t a burglar.”

  If he had been, she wouldn’t have stood a chance. Especially not with just a letter opener. “Do you need to call someone to stay with you? Your friend, Ms. Walker?”

  “No. I’m fine. Really,” she added. She took a step toward the library door in a silent invitation for him to leave.

  What the hell. He had other things to check out. And he wouldn’t be getting any more information out of her tonight, anyway. “I’ll be in touch.” He headed out the door and strode quickly down the hall. When he heard her shuffling behind him, he stopped and waited for her to catch up, garnering a small smile of appreciation for his consideration.

  At the front door, he took a quick look at it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and it didn’t appear as if it had been jimmied. He twisted the lock from inside while holding the door open, then tried the outside knob. The lock held. Sara stood nearby, watching him intently. Satisfied she’d be okay once he left, he faced her. “Make sure you set the alarm as soon as I leave.”

  “I will.”

  He hesitated a fraction of a second—why he wasn’t quite sure—before stepping outside. “Good night, Mrs. Adams.”

  “It’s Sara, remember?”

  “Sara.” He’d been calling her by her first name since he’d walked in the door. Why was he getting all formal now? Maybe to put a little professional distance between them.

  “Thank you again for your help, Morgan.” Her tone was genuine as she flashed him a timid smile.

  She was genuine, or least she appeared to be. Another reason for him to keep his distance.

  Yeah. Right.

  Taking another step back, placing himself well away from the house, he silently indicated for her to close the door. Only after he heard the deadbolt click into place did he turn to go.

  What was he doing? He ran his fingers through his hair with quick, exasperated movements. He’d just met the woman and already was getting too emotionally involved. The feel of her skin, soft and warm, had images exploding in his head that had no business being there. For an instant, he wanted to turn, to see if she was watching from the window. Grinding his teeth, he refused to look, quickly backing out of the drive and heading down the street.

  Sara Adams more than likely was involved in her husband’s death, as well as Andy’s. Now there was a baby in her husband’s grave. Whether she seemed genuine or not, he’d lay odds the baby was hers. Did she kill her own kid, then bury it there?

  No. He would not get involved with the widow and could ignore his attraction to her.

  He hoped.

  ****

  Sara threw the deadbolt, took a deep breath, then entwined her fingers together to stop her hands from trembling. It’d been all she could do to hold it together until Morgan left. What was wrong with her? Had she been hallucinating when she’d seen Jason’s face in the window? It couldn’t possibly have been him. And no way could she have admitted to Morgan what she thought she saw. He’d think she was crazy. She gave an unladylike snort. Right now, she wasn’t too sure about that herself.

  Double-checking the lock one more time and verifying the alarm was set, she slowly made her way through the house. One by one, she tested every window and door, ensuring each was securely locked. The sliced edges of her pants brushed against her legs with each painful step, a reminder of the earlier hallucination.

  When she reached the study, she paused in the doorway. The room had always been a comfort to her, but now it unnerved her. Swallowing the unease, she marched into the room and checked the windows. Glass littered the desk and floor and the first aid supplies sat next to the couch, but she was in no mood to deal with it tonight. She’d take care of it tomorrow. In the daylight. Flipping off the light switch, she pulled the door closed behind her as she walked out. Only then did she relax.

  In the kitchen, in lieu of her usual tea, she chose the special blend she’d received as a gift, needing the soothing mixture. She also opted for a mug, its weight as familiar and comforting as the beverage. Images of sharing a cup of coffee with Morgan earlier flashed across her mind. His size had made the kitchen seem much smaller. During all the years she’d been married, Jason had never made anything in the house seem small. In fact, Jason’s five-foot ten didn’t come close to Morgan’s six-foot plus frame. Nor had he been as well built.

  She shook her head. Why was she comparing the two men? One was dead, while the other kept getting in her face, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. His presence, both earlier in the morning and this evening, unnerved her. She didn’t want to think about him, much less see him again. Yet, she had felt safe while he’d been there. The house had felt alive with him taking up all the space.

  “Oh, quit it,” she muttered.

  Giving in to her exhaustion, she slowly climbed the stairs to her bedroom. By this point, her knees were throbbing so she downed a couple of aspirin. After the day she’d had, she could have taken a sedative. The pills were in the cabinet, next to the aspirin bottle. She’d tried them once, but it had left her groggy and sluggish for two days. She didn’t know if it had to do with the strength of the medication or what. Maybe she should’ve gotten a milder dose. At any rate, it was irrelevant tonight. Plus, more than ever, she needed to stay focused. All she needed was the soothing tea to help her relax, and a good night’s rest. She’d get through the night.

  Somehow.

  Stripping out of her clothes, Sara tossed the shirt plus the shredded and blood-stained pants toward the wastebasket. She left them lying where they landed. For so many years she’d been the perfect wife, the perfect hostess, the perfect everything for Jason. No more. Today’s events tilted her world beyond anything that could still be classified as normal, and there was no going back.

  Finding the remains of a baby in Jason’s grave had jolted her system and was now giving her a renewed energy, a new strength. Sara knew in her heart—all the way to her soul—Kaycee was still alive. The DNA results would prove the poor baby wasn’t hers. First thing in the morning, she would increase her efforts in finding her daughter.

  It had been so long since she’d held Kaycee that Sara wondered if she’d even recognize her baby. As soon as the thought hit her, she sucked in a harsh breath. Of course she would. To not instinctively know her own child was unthinkable.

  Changing into her faded, worn cotton PJs, she finally began to feel like her old self. The image she projected was a facade. The only reason she stayed in this house was because of Kaycee. Sara couldn’t imagine living anyplace her daughter hadn’t been. Not yet, anyway. This was as close as she could get to the child—to the memory. She’d never let that go. However, once she had Kaycee in her arms again, this place would be history.

  The paramount question though, what was she going to do about the company? The family company. At the Board’s i
nsistence, Jason’s cousin, Leo Martin, reluctantly took the helm, doing as well as could be expected after being suddenly thrust into the role. Although, his situation wasn’t any different than Jason’s.

  When their grandfather had died, Jason had no choice but to take over. The will had specified exactly who would be in control upon his demise. Personally, she didn’t think either one of the cousins wanted the responsibility. Jason had stepped up to the plate and done quite well, having increased the net profits by a good margin. Now it was Leo’s turn. She hoped his tenure was longer than her husband’s had been.

  Despite the turmoil during the last few months, Sara had still kept abreast of the business, still attended most of the Board meetings. Jason had held fifty-one percent of the stock, and now his stock belonged to her. She made a mental note to make a trip to the office soon to discuss possibilities with Leo.

  Sliding between the cool sheets, she retrieved the tea from the nightstand as well as the novel she’d been reading. But the words on the page blurred, so she finally gave up and set it aside. She finished the tea, which was now almost cold and a little bitter, then set the mug on top of the book. She didn’t bother setting the alarm. She’d be awake at her usual time—dawn or before. Switching off the lamp, she rolled to face Jason’s side of the bed and drifted to sleep.

  ****

  Sara stretched, pried her eyes open to look at the clock, then bolted upright. Nine-twenty? It can’t be. Panic gripped her. Eyes squeezed shut, she massaged her temples. What’s happening to me? I’ve never slept in like this. Not even the day after I lost everyone. Hands shaking, she looked at the window to confirm it was actually the next morning. Last night—in the library—had to be a hallucination. There’s no other explanation.

  She stood, took a moment to allow her sore knees time to adjust, then went to the bathroom. After she’d splashed cool water on her face and brushed her teeth, she moved back toward the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway. Something wasn’t right. For a moment she couldn’t place her finger on what it was exactly. She just knew things weren’t as they were supposed to be. Finally her gaze lingered on the nightstand and it dawned on her…the book wasn’t under the mug. She stared at the spot for a long moment, willing the book to magically reappear. It didn’t, of course. Heart racing, she tore her gaze away, moved into the room and began a methodical survey of the area.

  There. The book was lying open on Jason’s side of the bed; partially hidden by the covers she’d inadvertently thrown over it. She could have sworn she hadn’t picked up the book and read any during the night. Still… Shaking her head to clear her mind, as well as dispel the queasy sensations in the pit of her stomach, she retrieved the book, snapped it closed, then collected the mug. Still in her pajamas, she padded downstairs as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

  Other than her life—and sanity—slowly coming unraveled.

  ****

  He leaned forward in his chair, coming closer to the monitor. He couldn’t have hoped for a better image, or clarity. Coughing up the extra dough on his last trip to Dallas for the high grade equipment had been worth it. His supplier hadn’t asked questions, nor did he keep records where his customers could be tracked. Probably how the man remained alive since most of the people he dealt with had criminal backgrounds. The supplier didn’t care as long as he made a buck.

  Now he studied Sara as she stood in the doorway, surveying the bedroom. Anticipation built in him. Would his plan work? He’d plotted for months, finally settling on just how he’d get her out of the picture. He sneered. There didn’t seem to be any reason why he couldn’t have a little fun with her beforehand, though. He inched forward. Holding his breath, he almost willed her to see the partially hidden book. Then recognition and confusion lit her face.

  “Yes! ’Bout time.” He almost pumped his fist in the air.

  Only she didn’t panic or scream like he’d hoped. After the initial reaction, she’d just walked out of the room as if nothing had been wrong. “Well, hell. Looks like I’m going to have to get a bit more inventive.” He barked a laugh. He didn’t want easy. That wasn’t any fun. This way it’d be more entertaining.

  Except for the cops digging up the stupid body, his plan was on schedule. But that was a minor inconvenience, one he could easily work around. He frowned. Why had they done that? He’d made sure Jason’s death looked like it was from natural causes. So why’d they dig him up? And why now?

  “It doesn’t matter. You dumb jerks won’t find a thing. You aren’t smart enough.”

  Still, he’d have to think of a way to “properly” thank the ever efficient Riverbend police force for the disruption. For now, he would move forward with his secondary plan. Stifling a hysterical laugh, he shut down the feed, anticipating his next move and just how terrified dear little Sara would be.

  Chapter Four

  Sara’s well of intestinal fortitude was running dangerously low. The shrimp salad tasted like cardboard, the sweet tea bitter, and the noise in Riverbend’s newest restaurant deafening.

  “You listening to me?” Cat leaned across the table, her chest coming close to dipping into her entrée. Her neon green scarf somehow complimented the tangerine top she wore, making her stand out in the conservative lunch crowd. At least her hair wasn’t quite as spiked as normal. Sara had chosen a silver pant suit with a teal silk top. She made a mental note to either go shopping or dig in her closet for a smaller size. No matter what she did, she kept losing weight.

  Events of the morning had distracted Sara to the point of obsession. In her mind, she kept seeing Jason’s face. Did he move the book the night before? Of course that was ludicrous. Logically, she knew it was impossible. He was dead and she didn’t believe in ghosts. Mostly.

  “Of course, I am.”

  “Liar. You haven’t heard a word I said in the last ten minutes.”

  Busted. “I’m sorry.” She smiled. “Forgive me?”

  Cat grinned. “There isn’t anything to forgive. Hey, any news from the police or the grumpy dreamboat?”

  “No. It’s too soon. They’ll let me know as soon as they can.” Cat didn’t need to know Morgan had been there last night or how he’d held her. Nor of the nightmarish events of the evening. Cat would think she’d finally lost it and ready for the psych ward. Which might not be too far off the mark. She shoved her fears of that happening into a mental box and turned the key.

  “Lord, I want this over with. For your sake,”

  “You and me both.”

  They sat in silence for a while, ignoring everything, and everyone else, in the noisy restaurant.

  Cat cleared her throat. “Um, I hate to add to your stress, but you’re on the front page of the paper today.”

  Acid churned in Sara’s stomach. “Oh, please tell me you’re joking.”

  “I wish.”

  Shoulders slumped, she stared at her plate and shook her head. When would this end? “What’d they say?”

  “Actually, they had a picture of you.”

  Okay. No big deal there. She and Jason had been in the paper numerous times.

  “Of you in tall, dark and grumpy’s arms. Which, you forgot to tell me about, by the way.”

  Sara ignored her last comment. “How did they…?”

  Cat shrugged. “How any reporter finds out I guess. Anyway, there was a lot of speculation as to why they’d exhumed Jason’s body. None of it good.”

  It didn’t take any stretch of the imagination to figure out what the article had said. Oh, Lord. “Did it say anything about the—the bag and its contents?” Her voice quivered.

  “No, thank goodness. That would’ve been a nightmare. Guess the cops kept them far enough away so they couldn’t get any shots.”

  Thank goodness for small favors. She dabbed at her lips with the linen napkin, laying it on the table. She’d had enough pretense for the day. With three-fourths of her salad uneaten, they paid their checks and made their way out of the crowded restaurant.

  When t
hey reached Sara’s car, Cat hugged her briefly. “Are you okay?”

  “I could lie and say I’m just fine, but the truth is I’m pretty whipped. I don’t know why because I slept like a rock last night.”

  “You finally took one of those sleeping pills. Good for you.” Cat gave her a thumbs up. “I’ve always said you shouldn’t put yourself through the torture you do every night. Me? I would’ve been downing ’em by the handfuls.”

  “No, you wouldn’t, and you know it.” Sara didn’t want to admit what had really happened the previous night. In fact, she wasn’t sure herself.

  “Probably not, but you know me, Miss Tough As Nails who can handle anything.”

  At this stage in Cat’s life, she probably could. Sara envied her for it. “You’d better get going. You said you have a one o’clock appointment. Don’t want to be late.”

  “Oh, shoot! I forgot.” She waved over her shoulder as her multi-colored skirt swished around her ankles and her five-inch sandal’s clicked on the pavement.

  One of the things Cat had going for her was her sense of fashion. Sara wished she could be so free spirited and throw caution to the wind where her wardrobe was concerned. Except Cat didn’t just throw her outfits together. She had an uncanny sense of what would and wouldn’t work and the finished product was not only stylish, but uniquely Catherine. One day Sara expected to see Cat’s fashions parading down the runways in New York. Sara intended to be front and center, cheering on her friend.

  Sara waved when Cat honked as her convertible went by, top down. She slowed briefly before pulling into traffic.

  Sara took off her jacket and laid it in the back seat of her car. Once behind the wheel, she hesitated. She didn’t want to go home. The big house felt as if it had grown larger over the last two days, if that were possible. Sitting there alone was more than depressing. Where could she go, though? In the months since Jason’s death and Kaycee’s disappearance, she’d gone to the country club a few times as a diversion. It hadn’t helped much before and she doubted it would help now, especially since her picture had been plastered on the front page of the paper. More than likely, she’d be the center of gossip that would be disguised as concern.