Macy gripped her hand, grateful for any show of friendliness. “I’m so glad to meet you. I haven’t been in town very long, and I’m just starting to get acquainted.”
People milled around, heading for the door, but Hilda ignored them, and Macy tried to do the same. But she couldn’t forget that someone had been staring at her earlier with a hatred so strong she actually sensed it.
“Opal loved you very much.”
Loved her? Seventeen years with no contact from the grandmother who supposedly loved her so much? She wasn’t that naive. “I’m sorry, but I never knew her.”
Hilda’s expression changed in some subtle way. “That wasn’t your grandmother Lassiter’s fault. She tried but your grandmother Douglas blocked all her efforts.”
A rush of heat flooded Macy’s face. She wouldn’t listen to this criticism of the grandmother who had raised her, the only person who had ever been there for her. It was too much to expect. “That isn’t true.”
“I’m sorry, but it is. I saw her cry too many times when her letters and gifts came back unopened. However, this isn’t the time or the place to discuss it.” Hilda walked away, leaving Macy shaken and close to tears.
God, help me. I’m not sure I can do this. It’s so hard.
How could she bear hurtful comments about her grandmother, the only family she had ever known? Was that what she could expect from the people here in Walnut Grove? If that was what they thought, they hadn’t known the real Mattie Douglas.
Unwillingly, she remembered her grandmother’s refusal to discuss the past, her belief that her son’s in-laws had helped convict him, and a nagging, unwanted thought occurred to her. Was there a grain of truth in Hilda’s accusation? She had to keep an open mind, listen to what was being said, no matter how much it hurt. She was beginning to realize this quest for the real story could change her in ways she hadn’t expected.
And once changed, she knew she’d never be the same.
* * *
Nick waited outside the church for Macy. He’d seen her enter, but decided it might be better if he didn’t approach her until after the morning service. She was stepping right along, cheeks flushed, looking as though she’d already tangled with someone. Her lips were set in a tight line and those eyes were flashing green fire.
He stepped in front of her, blocking the way. “Morning. Enjoy the service?”
“The service was fine.”
She bit off the words as if they tasted bad, and Nick hoped she hadn’t run into one of the more outspoken citizens who’d trashed her father. He’d like to shield her from that if he could, although he knew it would be impossible. Too many people had opinions of Steve Douglas, some good, some very bad. He hoped they wouldn’t take it out on Macy.
He made an attempt to defuse the situation. “Look, you have to eat, and I doubt if Opal kept much on hand. How about going out to lunch, or if you’d rather we can get takeout and go back to the house?”
Macy looked as if she wanted to refuse, and he held up a hand, stopping her before she had a chance to say anything. “Probably the house would be better. We can talk about what’s bothering you in private.”
She stared at him for a moment, then heaved a sigh. “All right, I guess.”
Good. That was a start. “Fried chicken okay?”
“It’s fine.”
“You go on home and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He called in the order on his way to the car, and drove to the take-out place to pick it up.
By the time he got to the house she’d changed into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt the same shade of green as her eyes. Her burnished-copper hair tumbled in glossy waves to caress her shoulders, and her lips were curved in a welcoming smile that warmed his heart. This was one beautiful woman, and he couldn’t deny the way she affected him. His mind was telling him to ignore how he felt, but his heart wasn’t listening.
He carried the bags and cardboard boxes to the kitchen where she had arranged plates and silverware. Their hands touched as they set out the containers of coleslaw, potato salad and chicken. Although it was just a quick brushing of his fingers against hers, he felt a surprising warmth, a sense of awareness that was new to him.
Macy filled glasses with ice for the Pepsi he’d brought, and they sat down at the table. He said the blessing. She’d talked about God as if she were acquainted with Him, so Nick didn’t suppose she would object to something that was an everyday part of his life.
They ate in silence for a few minutes and then he glanced at her over a fried chicken leg and figured it was time to talk. “What happened at church that bothered you so much?”
Her green eyes turned stormy. “I met Hilda Yates.”
And that was why she was upset? Hilda was a nice person most of the time, if a little outspoken. So what had she said or done that had riled Macy? “Hilda was a close friend of Opal’s.”
“That’s what she told me.”
He waited while she took a drink of Pepsi before looking at him. “She said my grandmother Lassiter tried to stay in touch with me, but my grandmother Douglas blocked her calls and returned her letters unopened.”
Okay, this wasn’t what he had expected. He had assumed someone, Hilda maybe, had said something about her being in town and living in the house, or maybe mouthed off about her father. “So, what do you think?”
“I tried to deny her accusations, of course. But she just turned her back and walked out.”
“How sure are you that it didn’t happen?”
“I’m positive. My grandmother Douglas would never have done something like that, but I’m just beginning to realize how little I really know about what happened to my parents and how it damaged every member of my family.”
He hadn’t seen that before, but he was starting to understand how she felt. A violent crime didn’t just destroy the victim; it ruined the lives of everyone who loved him or her.
He shoved his plate aside and leaned his arms on the table. “How did it go last night? Everything all right?”
She looked at him, and he knew something bad had happened. “Well, I had a phone call.”
Nick took a drink of Pepsi, trying to act casual, even though he braced himself for what she had to say. “Who was it?”
“It was a man. He asked if I was enjoying myself, then he told me to get out while I could if I wanted to live.”
Nick choked, sputtering Pepsi over the table. He grabbed a napkin to clean up the mess he’d made, stunned at what he’d heard. “He said what?”
She repeated the threat, looking lost, while Nick stared at her. What was going on here? Someone had threatened to kill her if she stayed in this house. So what was hidden here that someone wanted enough to pull something like this? Or did the person just want to get her out of town before she found out something better left secret?
He wanted to reach across the table and take her hand, tell her it would be all right, but she’d know he was lying. Nothing would be all right until they found the truth about Megan Douglas’s death and learned for certain who had killed her. Most important, he had to find the jerk harassing Macy before the situation turned deadly.
“Is that all? Don’t hold anything back. If I’m going to help you I have to know everything.” He burned with the need to do something, anything, to make this threat go away. She had to talk to him, give him details, descriptions, anything that would help him.
She raised her eyebrows. “Everything?”
“Every threat, all of your fears, every bit of information that applies to this house and your parents. I need to know, and I’m depending on you to tell me.”
She sat there staring at him, looking as if she might rebel. It wouldn’t surprise him if she did, and that worried him. He was learning that Macy Douglas wasn’t quick to rely on anyone. Somehow he had to convince her to trust him.
Her eyes were narrowed, her lips tight; this woman was as stubborn as she was beautiful. A fascinating combination, or it would be if he weren’t so worri
ed about that phone call. As a cop, he’d learned to take all threats seriously. Besides, right now he had too much to worry about to be concerned with anything personal. All right, he knew that wasn’t true and it was one of his problems. From the moment he’d met her, his feelings toward Macy Douglas had been more personal than he liked or understood. Somehow he had to ignore the way just being with her affected him and focus on who was harassing her. Do his job as a police officer.
“Look Macy, I’m not trying to pry into your life, I just want to help you. How can I do that if I don’t know what’s going on? Work with me on this, okay?”
After a long hesitation, she nodded, but he could tell she was reluctant to commit. If he was smart he’d mind his own business, walk away from this house and this woman and forget about it—forget about her. But for some reason, he couldn’t leave. She needed him, and he was going to help her, regardless of how he felt about it, or whether she wanted him to or not. He was also going to learn the truth about what happened back then. Prove to everyone that his father had nothing to do with it. That was his main goal and he had to stick with it.
And it was time he got started. They talked for another half hour, until Macy seemed calmer, more relaxed. He felt easier about leaving her alone. When he left, his intent was to spend the rest of Sunday afternoon trying to learn more about Steve and Megan Douglas. The problem was that the case was so old, it would be difficult to know where to start. The town had been extremely divided back then and he had no idea who had been friends or enemies, so how would he know the truth when he heard it?
His thoughts turned to Macy. He hated to think of her alone in that house. The phone call could have just been harassment, someone resenting Steve Douglas’s daughter coming to town. Or it could have been someone much more dangerous—a killer who didn’t want to be discovered. He couldn’t ignore that possibility. Someone had killed a woman in that house and hurt a child. He probably wouldn’t hesitate to attack another person.
Macy had mentioned Hilda Yates. Maybe he’d stop by and talk to her. Hilda had been a close friend of Opal Lassiter. She might have some information he could use.
Soon he was seated in Hilda’s living room. “Macy Douglas said she talked to you at church.”
Hilda shot him a questioning look. “She did. We had a disagreement and I walked out. I told her the truth, but she didn’t believe me, and I didn’t feel like church was the place to get into an argument.”
“So you’re sure Opal tried to contact Macy?”
“Of course I’m sure. I saw some of her letters. They were unopened and stamped ‘Return to Sender.’ I saw Opal cry over them.”
Nick thought about Macy and how positive she was that her grandmother Douglas wouldn’t do a thing like that. She was bound to find out the truth and he knew it would tear her apart. He hated thinking about it. Hilda was looking at him as if trying to decide whether to say something. He waited, giving her time.
She nodded as if she had reached a decision. “Look, Nick, there’s something I need to tell you. Along toward the end, Opal had acted strange. From some of the things she said, I got the impression she was changing her mind about a few things. Like maybe she was thinking someone other than Steve killed Megan.”
Nick stared at her, dumbfounded. This really wasn’t anything he wanted to hear. “Are you sure about that?” His voice came out harsher than he intended, but Hilda didn’t seem to notice.
“Reasonably sure. Of course, I don’t have any proof, but it’s something to think about.”
It was indeed, and he didn’t like the implications. Not after the things Sam had said. So had Opal Lassiter believed the police sent an innocent man to prison? Then who did she think had killed her daughter? And what had changed her mind? He was just getting started in the investigation, and what Hilda said about Opal was one more piece of information to mull over. Yes, he knew it was an option, but it was one he didn’t want to think about. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to ignore it, though. This was the second time someone had mentioned the possibility that the police had messed up the investigation back then. The accusations probably wouldn’t go away.
When Nick left Hilda’s he decided to drive by and see Macy again. Not that he had a reason, he just wanted to check on her. Since he was off duty until tonight, it wasn’t any of Sam’s business what he did. At least he could pretend to believe that anyway, until he got caught. Sam had a temper, and he’d been clear that he wanted Nick to stay away from Macy Douglas. Which was harder to do than he had expected. Something about her kept calling him back.
And he didn’t know how to deal with it.
SIX
About mid-afternoon Macy decided if she didn’t want to live on TV dinners she needed to go to the store. Of course, there was a possibility she would run into someone who resented her being here, but that was a chance she had to take.
Macy drove to Anderson’s Market and went inside. She pushed her cart down the aisle, trying to decide what she wanted. After choosing fresh fruits and vegetables from produce, she headed for the meat department when a man who looked as though he was in his late sixties or early seventies stopped her.
“I hear you’re the Douglases’ daughter. I’m Garth Nixon.”
He eyed her as if he expected her to recognize the name, and after a moment she did. This was the man whose career her father was supposed to have ruined. From his expression, he still resented it.
She nodded. “Mr. Nixon, how are you?”
“I’m fine. But I want to know what you’re doing in this town. I hoped we’d seen the last of the Douglas family in Walnut Grove.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. But whatever my father did or did not do to you has nothing to do with me.” Unless of course he was the one who had killed her mother.
His eyes bored into hers. “It has everything to do with you. I hear you’re hoping to nail someone else for wiping out Megan. Well, you’re wasting your time. Steve Douglas was a vicious piece of trash who wouldn’t hesitate to destroy anyone who got in his way—including his own wife.”
“The way he is supposed to have destroyed you?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and as soon as they left her mouth, she knew she’d made a mistake. His face flushed so bright Macy wondered if he was going to have a heart attack right there in the grocery store, or if he would choke on what he was trying to say before he could get it out.
“Supposed? Supposed to have destroyed me? He ruined me, and for no reason other than he belonged to a different political party. He got just what he deserved, and from what I’ve heard, you’re just like him. We don’t need another Douglas in this town.”
He whirled and strode away, leaving her staring after him. She wouldn’t have believed the hatred he had for her father if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. Could he have been involved in making sure Steve Douglas went to prison? But his words haunted her. Anyone who got in his way, including his own wife? What could her mother have done that would have caused a problem serious enough to get her killed?
When she got home from the store, Macy decided to skip evening worship service. No way was she coming back to this house after dark. She had at least one enemy in Walnut Grove: the man who had called her. And Sam Halston wasn’t too thrilled with her being here. Neither were Raleigh Benson, her grandmother’s attorney, or that blonde at church this morning. Add whoever had been staring at her at the end of the worship service and Garth Nixon, and the list was growing.
She didn’t care how long the list was. Well, that wasn’t true. Of course she cared. She was scared stiff about half of the time, but no matter how people felt about her being here, she had things to do, and she needed to get busy. Since she had a couple of hours before dark, she’d spend the time going through the house, trying to find something that might stir some hidden memory, no matter how elusive.
Macy started with her parents’ bedroom, ready to tackle it in daylight, but a diligent search through the dress
er and bedside tables revealed nothing. She stood for a moment, glancing around the room at the burgundy, blue and green floral queen-size bedspread and the walnut tables holding elegant lamps with crystal bases. A group of photographs was arranged on the chest of drawers, and she paused to look at them. One caught her attention, her father, her mother and her, the only photo of her father she had seen in this house. A picture flashed through her mind of the three of them in a park where there were swings and a slide.
They had been there the day of her mother’s murder.
Macy strained to recall more, but the memory had faded. She slumped down on the bed, burning with frustration. These brief flashes, just enough to give her a glimpse into her past, were tearing her apart.
Blinking back tears, she got up and turned to check the closet, not really expecting much, but at least she could look. She slid open the doors and discovered clothing for both a man and a woman hanging there, as if waiting for the people who owned them to come back.
Macy wiped her eyes. For seventeen years those forlorn-looking garments had been hidden behind the sliding wooden doors. Clothing her father and mother had worn. Her heart burned. She would never see her parents again, and she didn’t even have memories of them to comfort her.
She reached a trembling hand to remove a pale green dress of a soft, thin material from a padded hanger. Macy buried her face in its folds, and for a moment, the fragrance of lilacs seemed to hang in the air. She had a vivid memory of her mother wearing this dress, a memory of sunshine and laughter...and love.
Macy sank into a wicker rocker, holding the garment in her lap, struggling to remember more, but the memory was already dying. Finally, limp and dejected, she went downstairs, taking the dress with her. Halfway down she jerked to a stop.
The front door stood wide-open.
She had shut and locked that door, so how could it be open now, and who was here? Macy crept down the last few steps, trying to be as quiet as possible. The air crackled with tension. She paused on the bottom step, listening.
Dangerous Inheritance Page 5