by Stacy Green
“And if I choose not to wait for tomorrow?” Challenge tainted his thick accent.
“Obviously, I can’t stop you. But I’m asking you to wait. And if someone does get hurt, won’t that delay the investigation further?”
In the end, he’d agreed, but not without more grumbling under his breath about Yankees and women and God knows what else.
With the afternoon sun racing toward the western horizon, Dani had driven away from her home, leaving Ironwood forlorn and empty. She thought about calling Cage, but they hadn’t made plans to get together this evening. He wasn’t her personal tour guide.
She’d still like to see him.
Her fingernails tapped an uneven rhythm against the wheel. The mystery at hand drove her interest in seeing Cage…except every time she thought about talking to him, nervous energy flowed through her so quickly her breath evaporated.
A throng of oak trees caught her attention. Oak Lynn. She glanced at the clock–just past four p.m. Surely the owner–what was her name? Grace. Surely she wasn’t getting ready to serve dinner just yet. A paralyzing yawn burst out of Dani’s mouth, and the need for sleep almost defeated her curiosity. But at the last second, she hit the brakes on her rental car and swerved onto Oak Lynn’s tree-lined drive. It was time to meet her new neighbor.
She knew the house sat on six acres, and the drive, lined with towering live oaks, had given the house its name. As majestic as Tara in Gone With The Wind, the massive house emerged through the trees, a beautifully remodeled specimen of plantation architecture. Oak Lynn was three stories, with a widow’s walk and a massive walk around porch and second and third floor galleries.
Dani checked herself in the rearview mirror; most of her foundation had sweat off, and part of her hair had escaped its knot. She ran a quick brush through it, swept it back up, and then dabbed on some powder and lip gloss. Smoothing out her wrinkled shirt, she hurried up Oak Lynn’s steps. Hopefully Grace wouldn’t judge her messy attire.
A compact, white-haired woman answered Dani’s knock. She smiled warmly. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Dani Evans, the new owner of Ironwood. I wanted to stop by and say hello.”
The elderly woman beamed and took her outstretched hand. “Hello! It’s so nice to meet you, dear. I’m Grace Moore, but I suppose you already guessed that. I was so happy to hear Ironwood is going to be restored.”
She ushered Dani inside, chatting in her Southern lilt. “And that place used to be so beautiful. You know the original owner’s son, John James, was a Civil War hero? He died before my daddy’s time, but Daddy knew John’s daughter CaryAnne, of course. He used to traipse down along the creek that runs behind both properties when he was a kid and always ended up at Ironwood. CaryAnne doted on him. She didn’t have children. Never married.”
Dani immediately liked Miss Grace. She was the first person in Roselea who didn’t feel the need to point out Dani’s Northern heritage and fast speech. “I can see why Oak Lynn is so popular. You must know everything about Roselea’s history.”
“I know a lot,” Grace said. “I don’t serve supper for another couple of hours. Why don’t you come in, and we can chat?”
Dani could scarcely breathe as she followed Grace through Oak Lynn’s halls. Every room was in mint condition, impeccably restored and decorated with antiques. “Are these all family heirlooms?”
“Most of them,” Grace answered. “My great-great-great grandfather built the original house in 1824. Just had two ground floor rooms, two second floor rooms, and an attic. The family lived in those areas while the house was expanded over the next five years.”
“It’s been in your family all this time?” Dani asked.
“Yes. It’s a rare thing nowadays, isn’t it? My family was lucky enough to hang on through the lean years.” She led Dani past a formal parlor into a more modern living room, complete with flat screen television. “Can I get you some iced tea?”
“No, thank you.” Dani waited for Grace to settle into a recliner.
“Now, you’re a restoration specialist, is that right?”
“Yes. I’ll be working with Lee at the historical foundation.”
“How exciting.” Grace sounded genuinely impressed. “How long have you been saving old houses, dear?”
“Eight years, ever since I graduated from college. Ironwood will be my first Southern plantation, though.”
“Well, I certainly hope you can do the place justice. She used to be as pretty as any one of these grand old homes.”
“So you remember CaryAnne clearly?” Dani prodded.
“Of course I do,” Grace said. “I would have been about eight years old when she passed. And she was real sick. Diabetes. And too stubborn to obey the doctor, of course. By then, she didn’t have any family left. Daddy helped take care of her.”
A jolt of recognition shocked Dani’s. “Diabetes is a terrible disease.”
“It is. And CaryAnne’s mind wasn’t with her for several years before she passed,” Grace said. “I remember Daddy talking about her rantings–they used to frighten him sometimes. Daddy should have had her hospitalized–she didn’t have anyone but him–but she wouldn’t leave that house. Ironwood was CaryAnne’s true love, Daddy always said.”
“Did she ever mention Ironwood’s supposedly secret room?”
Grace laughed. “Figured you would have heard about that. Rumors about the secret room go all the way back to the Civil War. Roselea itself was spared from the damned, pillaging Yankees–no offense, dear–but some of the outlying plantations were raided. My great-great grandfather was fortunate enough to make friends with the occupying general, so Oak Lynn was saved.”
“What about Ironwood?”
“John James told my granddaddy they’d saved Ironwood’s valuables from the Yankees by hiding them in the secret room. He was an old man then, and I know some people think he was just entertaining a young boy. But in CaryAnne’s last years, she talked about a hideaway. Rattled on to Daddy about the secret stash that would set her family free.”
“But you said she wasn’t in her right mind?”
“She was part of the time,” Grace said. “Since she passed, the rumors of a treasure trove of antiques and God-knows-what-else stashed inside Ironwood got bigger and bigger. Talk about how CaryAnne kept everything–that she let the house start to crumble around her rather than sell any of the family treasures. Some think there could be silver, art, jewelry, or any other number of valuable things stashed in the house.”
Her eyes sparkled. “You think you’ll be able to find it?”
Dani couldn’t hide her smile. “I’m going to try, once I’m able to move around freely in the house. Do you–”
A door banged down the hall, and Grace stiffened, her excited expression faltering. “Now, dear, I’ve heard all about the skeleton and the fresh bodies. Are you all right? Finding bones was bad enough, but murder victims?”
“Still in shock, I guess.” Dani didn’t understand Grace’s abrupt subject change, but she didn’t want to be rude. “Trying to focus on the house instead of what happened there.”
“Do you think you will sell?”
“What?” Dani stared.
“My Lord, child. Have you thought about what it will be like to live there, knowing what happened?”
She hadn’t. A wave of cold shot up her spine. Images of the arm in its wrapping and the stench of the basement assailed her.
Dani shook her head. She couldn’t think about any of that right now. Besides, she wasn’t in a position to sell or move again, and who in her right mind would buy Ironwood now?
“I don’t plan on selling,” Dani said. She hated to pressure Grace, but she needed to know more about Ironwood’s supposed treasure. “Back to the secret room and the cache, do you believe the stories?”
Grace’s laugh was unsteady. She fanned her shirt and glanced outside the parlor’s open doors. “Heaven’s no. Neither did Daddy. If there was any kind of secret storage at Ironwo
od, it would have been found by now.”
The sound of footsteps in the hall stalled Dani’s reply.
“Mom? You in there?”
Grace smiled, but her lips were tight, her eyes guarded. “Yes. I have company.”
Minutes later, a man appeared in the kitchen doorway. Dani’s breath caught. Blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and a shining smile. Like something straight off a magazine cover. Khakis and a short-sleeved, blue dress shirt. Stylish but comfortable. He looked surprised to see Dani, but quickly flashed her a smile that left her feeling weak-kneed.
“Ben Moore.” He offered her his hand. She took it, lost in the sound of his Mississippi drawl.
“This is Dani Evans,” Grace said. “New owner of Ironwood.”
“Ironwood.” Ben drew the word into nearly three syllables. “What a fine piece of history that place is. Shame about what’s going on.” He sat down next to Dani. “You doing all right?”
“Yes,” she managed to squeak out the word. “I’m just waiting to get my house back.”
“Ben surprised me from Jackson this morning.” Grace sounded irritated at her son’s intrusion. “He doesn’t get to come home very often these days.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” Dani hoped her cheeks weren’t flaming.
“You, too.” Ben’s face was friendly, but his tone serious. “Did you have much of a chance to explore before the…discovery?”
Sitting next to Ben made her feel as though Ashley Wilkes had somehow stepped out of the pages of Gone with the Wind, and she couldn’t quite look him in the eyes. His candor took her off guard, but she chalked it up to southern friendliness. “Not really. I was focused on getting all the bones out of the basement and then…well, you know what happened.”
“I don’t suppose they’ve identified the skeleton or the bodies yet,” Grace said.
Dani remembered her original agenda. “No, and I’m not sure they’ll be working on the skeleton at all now. That’s actually why I’m here.” She turned her attention back to Grace.
“What about the other rumors about CaryAnne and John James?” Dani asked. “About CaryAnne not being able to let go when he died?”
Understanding spread over Grace’s wrinkled face. “You mean that CaryAnne kept her father’s body instead of burying it?”
“That was always my favorite Ironwood legend,” Ben said. “But Granddaddy didn’t believe it, did he?”
“No,” Grace said. “Then again, he was very young when John James died. He always said CaryAnne missed her father something terrible, but when those rumors surfaced…” Grace’s expression twisted into distaste. “I assume you’ve heard some believe John James and CaryAnne were too close–that they had an unholy relationship–and that’s what led to her keeping his body at Ironwood?”
“Yes,” Dani said.
“Lies.” Grace’s soft tone turned to steel. “I remember Daddy getting so angry when he heard that. CaryAnne was good to him–the whole family was a friend to us for generations–and the idea was a horrible insult to John James’s memory. A war hero, he was!”
“I’m not looking to sully anyone’s memory,” Dani said. “But if the two of them were close, if her father was all CaryAnne had, who’s to say she didn’t snap after his death? Is it really that outrageous to think she didn’t let him go?”
“Are you suggesting the bones found at Ironwood are John James’s?” Ben’s eyebrows knitted together.
“I’m suggesting it’s a possibility that needs to be considered.”
“I had the very same thought when I heard the story,” Grace said. “But I just refuse to believe it.”
“But Mom,” Ben said, shifting so that his arm brushed against Dani’s. Nervous energy flickered through her. “After the things CaryAnne said to Granddaddy shortly before she died, and the skeleton showing up, surely you have to wonder.”
“What did she say?” Dani asked.
Grace pressed her lips together, staring hard at her son. “Remember she wasn’t in her right mind in those last years. And Daddy took most of it for nonsense. But she did say something that always bothered him.”
“She used to talk about the secret room a lot,” Ben said. “Grandpa told me she even described it to him once.”
Grace shot him a sharp look. “That’s part of what your grandfather believed to be nonsense.”
“But what did CaryAnne say that bothered him so much?” Dani said.
Grace hesitated. “She said–more than once–that only Ironwood’s walls knew her worst secrets. That the truth was buried within them. ‘Words from a broken mind,’ Daddy always said. The diabetes had taken two toes, and her kidneys were shutting down. CaryAnne refused any medical directives, said the Good Lord would take her as He saw fit.”
Dani’s throat went scratchy, her eyelids felt heavy. She would not cry.
“And I went with Daddy one evening to check on her,” Grace continued. “She was in a right fit, horribly pale and the room smelling like death was hiding in the closet. Daddy was trying to get her settled, trying to get her to eat something. And out of nowhere, she grabbed hold of my arm. Her hands were gnarled with arthritis and dry as a bone, but she was strong. She yanked me close, brought my face right down to hers, and said something about secrets.”
“You don’t remember what she said?” Dani asked.
Grace shook her head. “I did once, but I’m old now–”
“I remember,” Ben said. “You and grandpa used to talk about it when I was little, and the story always creeped me out. She said, ‘Ironwood, she knows my bad secrets. The truth is buried here, little girl. It’s buried for good. No one will find it. No one left.’”
“Yes, that’s right.” Grace’s lips tightened, and her glance at her son was anything but motherly. Evidently Ben’s sudden visit hadn’t been as welcomed as he might have expected.
Grace rubbed her arms despite the warm afternoon sun shining through the picture window. “I didn’t even understand what she meant, but it was the look in her eyes. Something between crazy and fear. I had nightmares about those eyes for weeks, but I finally convinced myself she was just a dying woman who’d gone out of her head.”
“And now?” Dani asked.
Grace leaned back in the chair, seemingly spent. “I don’t believe those rumors about her and John James. Never will. But grief makes a person do crazy things. And now,” she sighed and pressed her hand over her chest, “now I’ve got to wonder if she wasn’t talking about what she did with her father’s body.”
Dani felt swollen with adrenaline. “I think she was. And I’m going to try to find out.”
“How in the world could you do that?” Grace asked. “I thought the authorities were in no hurry to identify the bones. Even this old lady knows that marking them as John James Laurent would take a long time.”
“She’s right, Dani.” Ben casually laid his arm against the back of her chair.
Grace made a disapproving noise at her son’s boldness, but Ben ignored his mother and continued. “CaryAnne had no children, and John James’s sister didn’t either. Far as I know, there aren’t any descendants from either branch of the Laurent family. I’d guess the only way to get DNA would be to exhume a body, and I highly doubt that’s going to happen.”
“There are still things I can do,” Dani said. “You said John James was a Civil War hero, Grace?”
“Oh yes.” Grace’s pale eyes lit up. “He served in several battles, but the one he’s remembered for is at Chancellorsville.
“John James rode with Stonewall Jackson to attack the Union flank from behind. He was there when one of Jackson’s men accidentally shot the general.” Dani noticed Grace’s accent grew thicker when she talked history, and her hands flittered around with excitement. “Helped get him off the front lines and brought him back to the medical tent, even though John James himself was injured. Still, he wouldn’t leave Stonewall’s side until the doctors forced him to.”
“Jackson lost an
arm and then died of pneumonia, right?” Ben said.
“Yes,” Grace answered.
“You said John James was injured too?” Dani asked.
“That’s right. He’d been shot in the leg.”
“Did he lose it?”
“No. He refused to let them amputate.”
“I didn’t realize the soldiers had a say in the matter,” Dani said.
“John James was a Lieutenant Colonel, and he’d tried to save General Jackson. Infection set in quickly, but he fought the doctors, and the story goes that General Robert E. Lee himself is the one who said to leave the leg alone. That John James had earned the right to decide for himself.”
Chills swept down Dani’s back at the heroic story. Was it bravery or sheer stubborn will that had saved John James Laurent?
“He got extremely lucky.” Ben shook his head. “Between the lack of sterilization and the doctors going days without washing their hands, infection was pretty bad.” He looked at his mother. “You sure all that’s true, though? How much of it is just legend?”
“John James told your grandfather himself.” Grace stuck out her chin. “Daddy always remembered that story because John James used to say he was walking around with a piece of Yankee iron in his leg.”
“What?” Dani sat up straight.
“He said they weren’t able to remove all of the bullet, not without cutting the bone, which John James refused. The leg healed around it. He walked with a limp the rest of his life.”
Dani looked at Ben, and she could tell by his expression that he was thinking the same thing. “So if that’s true, his leg bone would not only have bullet fragments, but also whatever scars an infection would leave.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Grace said. “If the bone hasn’t turned to dust.”