by Stacy Green
“So yes, Norton Investments is going to offer me a cut of the profits if they’re able to develop the Ironwood land as they want. And they’re willing to purchase the house and acres for the same price you paid. No one else is going to do that after what’s happened.”
Was he really trying to negotiate a deal? Anger flared from the pit of her stomach fanning out across her body. Her fingers twitched with the effort to stay in control.
She bared her teeth. “I’m not selling.”
“I’ll give you an extra three percent,” Ben said. “Norton is going to create a real money maker, Dani. Three percent of their profits is a lot of money.” He touched her shoulder, the gesture rough and manipulative. “You can go back up North where you belong. Admit it–the South doesn’t suit you at all.”
She shoved his hand off. “Ironwood is not for sale. I don’t care how much money you throw at me. And even if you didn’t kill those men, you’re involved in this somehow. I’ll prove it.”
His once mesmerizing blue eyes turned to ice. “You are definitely a stubborn, independent female.”
“And you’re definitely a greedy bastard.” She turned to leave. “You’re about to go down Ben. I promise you that.”
Her fingers closed around the china doorknob just as Ben caught her by the arm. He spun her around to face him, handsome face twisted into a hateful sneer. “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”
* * *
“Damn, Daddy.” Cage sat back on his heels. Sweat rolled down his neck and saturated the back of his shirt. “Why can’t you clean out the shed in the fall when it’s not miserably hot?”
Sitting in the shade of the patio umbrella with a glass of lemonade and cane against his leg, Oren grunted. “Cause I asked you to do it in the spring, and you put it off. Now I need the space, and here we are.”
Cage grumbled under his breath. His father was as stubborn as anyone he knew, and that included Dani. Oren’s increasing weight–and complete lack of interest in doing anything about it–meant he couldn’t do as much around the house anymore.
“That’s why I had a son,” Oren liked to say. “The free labor.”
Cage hefted a fifty-pound sack of cement out of the way. “You going to use this?”
“Maybe. Don’t toss it.”
He deposited the cement in the keep pile and stopped to catch his breath. His father motioned for him to sit. “Take a break. Drink some lemonade.”
He did as he was told, sloughing sweat off his face with the bottom of his damp t-shirt.
“You’re a good son.” Oren settled back into the chair.
“What?” Cage glanced nervously at his father.
“I mean it. Know I don’t say it nearly enough, but I appreciate how good you are to your mom and me.” His father fiddled with the top of his cane. “I know you’d like for things to have turned out differently.”
Cage worried his bottom lip trying to figure out what to say. His father wasn’t exactly the sharing type. “Of course I do. I want Lana here, just like you and Mom do.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about your sticking around when she left and picking up the slack around here when I got too decrepit. You could have gone to the big city like she did. Been a lawyer maybe. You always talked about it.”
“Nah.” He could hardly speak over the swelling in his throat. “I like here. Simpler life.”
“Unless you’re being railroaded for murder, of course.”
Cage chuckled and wiped the sweat dripping off his nose. “Yeah. There is that.”
“What the hell is wrong with those people? Can’t they get their heads out of their asses?”
“Gina will figure it out.” Cage hoped he sounded more convinced than he felt. “And the trace evidence will officially clear me.”
Cage drained his glass of lemonade and then stood up. “Thanks for saying all that, Dad.”
Oren grunted a welcome. He pointed to the shed with his cane. “Now, there ought to be an old rototiller back there. Might be able to use it for parts.”
The back door slammed. Cage didn’t look up. His mother had probably come out to see if they needed more lemonade.
“Cage.” Gina’s voice was like ice water being tossed onto his burning skin. He swallowed hard and turned around.
“Captain Barnes. What are you doing here?”
At his parents. Was she really going to question him here?
“I’m headed out to question Ben Moore.”
He relaxed. “Lee Walker must have given you more information than he did us.”
“No. There’s no proof Ben took the missing keys. But we got Martin Robertson’s financials back.”
“And?”
“A week before his family declared him missing, he deposited a check from Ben’s brokerage for a nice chunk of money.”
“Sonofabitch.”
“Figured you’d say that. Want to ride out with me and see what he’s got to say?”
“Hell, yes.”
34
Ben’s long fingers dug into the tender flesh of her arm. Dani’s stomach tightened even as her pulse accelerated. “Get your hands off me.”
“Not until we come to an understanding.” His eyes had shrunk to snakelike slits, and she wondered how she could have ever found him attractive.
“I understand perfectly.” She tried to wrench her arm away, but he held firm.
“I will not allow you to ruin my reputation or jeopardize the business I’ve built.”
“What are you going to do, smother me and bury me in the basement? Or give me something that makes it look like I died of natural causes? Is that what you did to Martin’s friend?”
“You’re crazy. And stupid for even coming out here. Meddling Yankee.”
Now the mind-numbing fear set in. Twisting around for leverage, she jammed her elbow into his chest. Ben cursed and wrapped his left arm around her so tightly she gasped for air. “You need to learn some manners.”
He yanked the door open, and the glare of the afternoon sun momentarily blinded them both. His grip eased. This time, she kicked his knee as hard as she could.
“You little bitch.” Ben dropped his arm and fell to all fours.
Dani seized her chance. She ran down Oak Lynn’s steps, fumbling for her keys.
“You’ll pay for that.” Ben had stumbled to the bottom step. Hands fisted and face purple, he took a step forward. She didn’t stop moving.
The crunch of gravel brought her to an abrupt halt. Her legs grew weak with relief as an Adams County Sheriff’s cruiser whipped into the driveway and stopped behind Dani’s rental. Gina stepped out of the driver’s seat while Cage jumped out of the passenger side and raced to Dani, shock painted on his face.
He took her in his arms bringing her face against his chest. She didn’t care that he smelled like sweat and sweltering air. “I’m fine.”
“What did he do to you?” Cage wiped the tears from her eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying. His gaze moved to her arm. Thanks to her fair skin, her bicep had already begun to bruise.
“He put his hands on you?” His nostrils flared, and he looked dangerous. “Stay here.”
“Cage, don’t. He didn’t hurt me.” She clung to him.
“She came here making all sorts of crazy accusations,” Ben said as Gina stepped in front of him, right hand on her gun. “And he probably put her up to it.”
“You can tell me all about it downtown,” Gina said.
“Excuse me?”
“We’ve uncovered some new evidence in the Ironwood murders I need to discuss with you immediately.”
The anger drained from Ben’s face. His jaw went slack, and he glanced around nervously. “Come inside.”
“Downtown is better.”
“Can I follow you?”
“Ride with me.” Gina glanced over her shoulder. “Cage, why don’t you take Dani home?”
“Let’s go,” Dani pulled at his arm. “Gina
will handle it.”
Cage didn’t move.
“Please.” She sounded close to tears.
“Yeah. Let’s go.” He held out his hand, and Dani gave him the car keys. She was still shaking.
“Dani.” Gina walked Ben to the car. Drained of his bravado, he looked as fragile as a wilted flower. “Ironwood is officially yours again. We’re done with the place.”
“Thank you.” She sat down in the steamy vehicle, waiting for Cage. But he leaned against the blistering metal, grinding his jaw and glaring at the police cruiser as it pulled out of the drive and out of sight.
He finally got inside and started the engine. Both hands on the wheel, he stared ahead, body tense as though readying for a fight.
“You’re mad at me,” Dani realized. She didn’t blame him.
“You promised you’d stay at Magnolia.”
“I was trying to help.”
“You almost got yourself in big trouble. He dragged you outside, didn’t he? Where was he taking you?”
“I don’t know. He just said he wasn’t going to let me ruin his reputation.”
“He could have killed you.”
“But he didn’t. I got away.”
“He was coming after you. If we hadn’t showed up, he would have caught you.”
She wanted to argue, but she didn’t have the energy. And the fear glistening in Cage’s eyes made her guilt swell.
“I’m sorry. I made a stupid decision.”
“Yes you did.”
She slid her hand over his cheek. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’ve only just found you. You can’t go around risking your life.”
“I won’t do it again. Promise.”
He raised an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth hitched.
“I mean it this time.” She crossed her heart.
Cage’s hand closed around her neck, bringing her face to meet his. His kiss was hard and strong. She kissed him back with all the passion she could summon.
“Did you hear what Gina said?” She breathed when they finally parted. “About Ironwood being mine again?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“The blueprints are in the back seat. Want to go exploring?”
* * *
“Aren’t we going inside?” Cage stood beneath Ironwood’s peeling pergola while Dani remained on the dirt drive, gazing up at the silent house. He slung her utility bag of tools off his shoulder as she agonized. Both sets of blueprints in hand, she studied one, and then the other, mumbling.
“D?”
She pulled her nose out of the blueprints. “D?”
Cage shrugged. “Feels right.”
She grinned and then went back to the plans. “I can’t figure it out. Something isn’t right, but for the life of me, I can’t see it. And I know it’s right there.” She headed for the south side of the mansion, skirting the rose bushes.
Cage jogged to catch up. “What are you looking for?”
“I’ll tell you when I find it.” She handed him the newer set of house plans. “Hold these out so we can compare.”
He did as she asked, following her around to the back of the house. The weather hadn’t been kind to it. Paint chunked off the wooden slats leaving them bare in places. The screened-in porch off the library, built near the turn of the century, sagged dangerously at the base. A servants’ quarter window on the far side of the house had been boarded up. Wisteria climbed the raggedy back of Ironwood, stretching horizontally across the house’s upper level like some strange, overgrown tree.
“The additions are back here,” Dani said. “The porch. The balcony off CaryAnne’s room. The newer plans say they were added after the war.”
“Odd there isn’t a balcony off the master,” Cage said. “Most of these houses have them.”
Dani nodded, moving toward the opposite end of the house, and then stopped so abruptly Cage nearly tripped over her.
“That’s it.”
“What?”
“Look at the blueprints from the 1800s.” She held them up for Cage to see. “And then the ones you’ve got. At the upper floor.”
“They look the same.”
“Exactly. But they’re not.”
“I don’t follow.”
“These were drawn up taking both interior and exterior measurements,” Dani chattered. “In 1835, when the house was built, the upper floor was roughly 3000 square feet.
“And it’s the same in 1972, when the church had these done. The bottom changed because the screened in porch and servants’ addition were added.
“But look.” Dani pointed to the exterior measurements written on the outer edge of both sets of house plans. “In 1972, the overall exterior of the house is bigger–by about twenty feet.”
“That’s probably from the addition of the porch and servants’ quarters.”
“But the inside measurements are the same as in the 1800s, Cage. Don’t you see?” She shaded her eyes and gazed at Ironwood’s second floor. “The house is symmetrical. But according to the plans, the lower level would stick out twenty feet farther than the top.”
“Except it doesn’t.” Understanding dawned. “The house is a normal square.”
“Right. Now, this isn’t uncommon. A lot of times, with this style of home, a colonnade would have been added to keep the symmetry. But not with Ironwood.”
“Because there is an extra twenty feet upstairs.”
Dani bounced up and down. “That stretches across the back of the entire house. It’s not a room, Cage. It’s a passage!”
35
Forget butterflies. Bulky moths warred in her stomach for space as Dani and Cage sprinted into the house. So simple. Right in front of everyone all along.
“Be careful on the stairs,” she called over her shoulder. The dual staircase groaned with her weight, but she moved too fast to worry about collapse.
“Slow down.” Cage took the steps two at a time, easily keeping up with her. “Do you even know where to start?”
“The master bedroom–John James’s room. He built the passage after the war, same time he added the porch and CaryAnne’s balcony. Probably paranoid of the insurgent militia.” She breathed hard, trying to catch her breath. Her hair hung limp against her neck, her face flamed, and her damned pulse raced. Keep it together. Last thing she wanted to do was pass out again from the heat.
“Ben must have discovered it,” Cage said. “Or Martin Robertson did and wanted more money than he was promised.”
Dani had already forgotten about Ben. “Or Martin found something of major value that Ben wanted for himself. Either way, we’re getting into the passage if I have to tear a wall down.”
Blasphemous words in her line of work, but the answers were in that room. And she wasn’t accepting defeat.
The scent of floor polish still lingered in John James’s room. The cot and blanket beneath the western window had been removed for testing, leaving the room bare. She still didn’t understand why Ben–if he really was the killer–had put so much work into this room. What was the point?
She was too excited to think about that now.
The adrenaline rush heightened her senses. She stared at the window with new eyes.
“The window,” Dani said.
“Shit. So that theory is out. Can’t be a passage if there is a window.”
“You’re wrong.” She crossed the room until she reached the wooden window seat. “This is a big window seat. Not in length, but girth. It’s inset twice as much as any other I’ve seen.”
Cage’s eyes widened. “It’s compensating for the space between the walls.”
Dani couldn’t believe she’d missed it before. Size aside, the window seat looked like any other. She’d been so intent on looking at the walk-in closet and thinking the connection could only be a set of stairs for someone to move secretly between floors, she’d completely missed the obvious. She ran her hand along the wall to the left of the window seat. The seat itself was wooden,
but a decorative gold plating that ran up both sides of the connecting walls trimmed the outer edge.
She crawled onto the seat and peered down at the seam between the left edge and the wall. More gold trim, but a lot of it had worn off with age. And use.
“It’s a door. Or rather, a panel.” Her blood pounded hard in her ears until she thought her eardrums might burst. The moths in her stomach danced in victory.
“You can’t be serious.”
“See how this gold trim overlaps the side edge?” She ran her fingers down the vertical trim on the wall adjacent to the seat. “Almost as though it’s some sort of latch? And see how the golden trim goes all the way around, running along the seat and up beside the window?”
“It makes a rectangle,” Cage said. “And it’s on both sides. Just looks like a design to me.”
“Thus the simplicity.” She dug her fingers into the overlapping section midway down the wall and pulled. The hidden panel shuddered at first and then opened easily.
They both spoke at once. “Sonofabitch.”
* * *
Cage couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Flashlight in her shaking hand, Dani shined the beam into the dark space. He peered over the top of her head and caught a glimpse of brass, dark wood, and an oblong table. She gave a little squeal and started to crawl inside.
“Stop.” He caught her by the arm. “You don’t know what’s in there. Let me go first.”
Her face fell, but she nodded her agreement. Cage took the flashlight. The panel was barely four feet tall. Crouching down, he stuck one leg and then the other inside the room. He shined the light on the ceiling. It was high enough for him to stand straight.
Cobwebs and stale air should have already assaulted them, but just like the master bedroom, the space smelled clean. “He cleaned up in here, too.”
“Let me in!” Dani shoved at him.
“Wait a second. Stay right there.” The beam of his flashlight reached at least ten feet, which meant the corridor likely ran the entire back end of the house, bypassing the rooms between John James’s and CaryAnne’s bedrooms. “Does CaryAnne’s room have a similar window seat?”