Dangerous Inheritance

by Barbara Warren

  She sighed. “I understand what you’re saying, but it’s still hard. I guess I’ll just have to toughen up and take it. After all, what I owe my family is more important than what anyone has to say. You don’t have to worry. I won’t fall apart again.”

  What she owed? She saw this as a moral task, just the way he felt about his father. He only hoped he could work his way through this tangle of lies and truths without destroying either one of them. But he was a cop. He had taken an oath. No matter what this turned up, even if what he discovered broke his heart, he would have to carry through. If he made it through this mess in one piece, he was going to need God’s help—big-time.

  * * *

  Macy watched him. Would he really be there for her? He’d said it, but could she trust him? Did he really mean it? She’d been hurt before by trusting the wrong man. She was wiser now. Wise enough to know that a promise wasn’t always worth the breath it took to make it. Something about Nick said he might be different, though.

  She’d already relied on him more than she wanted to, but he was always there. She thought about that. Always there? Yes, that described him. So maybe she could depend on him, after all. At least she hoped so, but there was a limit to what she could expect from him.

  He leaned toward her...close...too close. She knew she should draw back, but instead she held her breath, waiting. Nick placed both hands on her shoulders, and she resisted the urge to lean toward him. His eyes stared into hers—direct, piercing.

  “I meant what I said, Macy. I’m in this with you. Don’t you ever doubt it. I’ll do everything I can to help you, whatever the cost.”

  Whatever the cost? What did he mean by that? Was he putting himself at risk by investigating her mother’s death? More important, was he hiding something from her? Could she trust him, after all?

  He seemed to know what she was thinking because he released her shoulders and leaned back. Macy felt a sense of loss, as if she had thrown away something very precious. Done something she would regret later when she had time to think about it.

  Nick’s attitude became more businesslike, more of an officer than a friend. “Now, the first thing we have to discover is the name of the person who threatened you over the phone. I’m going over the police files, asking questions, but I’ll need your help. You might talk to Raleigh Benson again and see what he can tell you about your parents and your grandmother.”

  Macy accepted the change in his attitude, hoping she hadn’t offended him. She needed him too much to do that. Needed him? Was that the only reason she wanted him around? Feeling ashamed at the thought, she hastened to cooperate. “All right, I can do that. Anything else?”

  “Not that I can think of right now. I’m going to see Joe Tipton and ask him what he knows. When he was here fixing the alarm he seemed to feel like your dad got a raw deal. Maybe he has some inside information that will help us.”

  Macy stared at him, feeling a glimmer of hope. Maybe Nick really was serious about helping her. Could she actually have met someone she could depend on after years of having no one except her grandmother? She’d always felt left out when her friends talked about their families, about doing things with them, sharing with them. Her grandmother had always been there for her, but she had missed having a mother and father, sisters, a brother, all the things her friends had and she didn’t.

  There had been something dark hiding in Grandma Douglas, a certain sadness, preventing her from enjoying life. Macy understood that sadness now, but it had been disturbing when she was growing up. She remembered the way her grandmother would sit, silent, staring out the window, the way she occasionally brushed away a tear. A part of her wished she had known back then what was wrong. Perhaps she could have helped. But deep down, she knew nothing she could have done would have lightened the load. Only God could ease the burden of a mother grieving for her child.

  She pulled her attention back to Nick, seeing the sincerity in his expression. “I don’t know many people in town, and the ones I have met don’t seem to want to talk to me, but maybe they’ll be more open with you.”

  At least she hoped so. But with Nick helping her, she felt as though they had at least made a start on learning the truth about her past.

  NINE

  Macy opened the file she’d found in her grandmother’s closet and spread a pile of newspaper clippings out on the table. The headline of the closest one confirmed her suspicion as to what they would be. Woman Murdered at 879 Oak Drive.

  Her grandmother Douglas had a few newspaper articles, but mostly about the trial. Macy had searched the internet, but found only a couple of articles, one of which she already had read. After all, it had been seventeen years. No one cared that much anymore. No one except her. She found one she’d never seen and had a feeling it would be different. Macy stared at the yellowed clipping for a moment, trying to work up the courage to read it. Finally she lifted the article off the table and took a deep, steadying breath.

  Megan Douglas, wife of prominent newspaper owner Steven Douglas, was murdered in her home last night.

  Icy fingers wrapped around Macy’s heart. There it was. In black-and-white. Had it been published in her father’s newspaper? Probably. Since it was the only one in town as far as she knew. Had he written the article, stating the facts?

  No. He couldn’t have. Not if he had really loved her.

  She read further, cringing at the description of the wounds on her mother’s poor, battered body. How could any sane person kill a helpless, unarmed victim like this? Hurting her almost beyond recognition.

  She’d never dreamed it would be this bad. Her mother, not just killed, but viciously attacked. She leaned back, eyes closed, struggling against the images the words brought to life. Not a memory, nothing like that, just word pictures painted by the author of the article. Pictures her unruly mind insisted on visualizing.

  A shadowy wisp of something as fragile and tenuous as a drift of fog floated through her consciousness. A voice, harsh with anger. No, a much stronger emotion than anger. A voice hardened with hatred.

  A voice strangely familiar.

  You brat. Get away from me.

  Macy tried to hold the memory, trying to remember who had said the words, but as quickly as it had come, the faint echo faded from her mind. She slapped the table in frustration. She wanted more. More than these isolated bits of memory that didn’t seem to connect to anything. Would she ever know the truth? She pushed the clippings away, unable to continue reading.

  Surrendering to an overwhelming desire to recall what she had thought she’d remembered, Macy leaned forward, hands over her eyes, struggling to call back the words, the memory of the voice, but the moment was gone. Finally she closed the file, feeling like an impostor. She might own this house, but would she ever truly feel at home here? Or would the horrible past that had stalked these rooms destroy her, too?

  There was something she needed to do. Something she had pushed aside for too long. It was time to act. Macy reached for the phone and called Nick.

  He answered on the second ring. “What’s wrong, Macy?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just want to visit my mother’s grave. Can you give me directions to the cemetery?”

  “I can do better than that. There’s not much traffic out there and it might be better if you don’t go alone. I’ll be glad to take you. When do you want to go?”

  Macy took a deep breath. This was too personal to share with anyone, but then again, maybe Nick was right. The cemetery might be isolated, no place for her to be by herself right now. Not with an unknown enemy out there just waiting for a chance to get at her.

  She bit back her protests, grateful he was willing to take time to go with her. If she had to make this trip with someone, she’d rather have Nick than anyone she could think of. “Any time you’re free.”

  “I’m not on duty until tonight. We can go now if you want.”

  Macy hesitated. Yes, she needed to see the graves, but was she ready for this? She for
ced herself to swallow her uncertainty. What was wrong with her, wavering back and forth all the time? Couldn’t she just make a decision and stick with it? What had happened to the woman who always had to be in control? Evidently she had disappeared, replaced with a muddle-minded woman who didn’t know from one minute to the next what she needed to do. No matter how seeing the graves affected her, with Nick beside her she could handle it.

  “Now would be fine if you can get away.”

  “No problem. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He ended the call, and Macy checked her makeup, locked the door behind her and waited for him on the porch. As soon as she saw him coming, driving a dark blue pickup instead of his police car, she got up and walked down to meet him. Nick leaned over, opening the door for her. His smile immediately brightened her mood. Being with him always made her feel better. She climbed in and looked over at him.

  “Thanks for doing this. I appreciate it.”

  “Hey, I’m glad to do it. In fact, I should have suggested it before now. It’s just a couple of miles from here.”

  “I guess I should have gone earlier, but everything else seemed to get in the way.”

  “Well, it’s a nice day for a drive, and we’ll probably be the only ones there.”

  Macy stared out the window as he drove away from town, wanting to talk, but so full of conflicting emotions she couldn’t think of anything to say. She dreaded this trip, had kept putting it off, knowing that viewing the graves would be hard. If she could just remember her mother and grandmother, remember what they were like, it would be so much easier, but she felt so conflicted. A part of her wanted to grieve for them, but they seemed like strangers. People she’d heard about but had never met.

  A sign pointed uphill in a wooded area on the outskirts of town. The road was just a dirt track, and a bit rough, but it opened out to a snug little cemetery on the top of a hill. Trees surrounded the clearing, and birdsong filled the air. Macy got out of the car and hesitated.

  Nick took her arm and led her toward a row of tombstones. They walked slowly, with Macy stopping to read names and examine the brightly colored artificial floral arrangements, aware she was only putting off the moment when she would stand beside the graves of the two women who had been such an important part of her life. Women she couldn’t remember and had no idea what they were like as real people. That seemed like an insult to them. She stumbled and Nick pulled her erect, drawing her against him. Macy took a deep breath, wanting to turn and walk away. Why was this so hard? It was just a couple of graves in a remote country cemetery. Why did she have this feeling of guilt as if she had betrayed them in some way?

  Her father wouldn’t be here. He was buried in Tulsa. Grandma Douglas was buried beside him. Something Macy hadn’t realized until she had to make arrangements for her grandmother’s funeral. Another secret that had been kept from her. She’d never been to the cemetery there, had no reason to go. Not until after her grandmother had died had she known her father’s body lay in the adjoining grave site. That had been a devastating surprise on a day she’d had enough to deal with. Even thinking about it brought back the overwhelming sense of surprise and hurt she had felt on reading his tombstone.

  Macy shook her head in amazement. Each mother buried by her own child.

  A bitter, despairing sensation of being alone, of having no one, surged through her. Being here in this secluded plot of ground set aside for the dead brought home with a desperate finality just how empty and desolate her life really was. Her family was gone. All she had left was this driving obsession to see the monster who had destroyed them brought to justice.

  Nick stopped beside the graves and Macy forced her thoughts back to the present, reading the names engraved on the two tombstones. Opal Lassiter and Megan Douglas. She knew how her mother’s life had been taken from her, knew in sickening detail, but she needed to find out how her grandmother Lassiter died. Had she been ill? Or was she a victim, too?

  She paused, struck by the thought, wondering where that had come from, then dismissed it. If there had been anything strange about her grandmother’s death, someone surely would have mentioned it. And right now was a good time to remember that she wanted the truth, not to spend valuable time wandering down emotional and mental side roads. She had to stick to the facts as she knew them.

  Macy glanced around at the well-kept graveyard. An eagle perched on the branch of a dead tree off to the side, its snowy head and tail stark against the blue sky, but other than that the two of them were alone. She moved away from Nick, needing space. Her mother. Her grandmother. An overwhelming sense of loss assaulted Macy. Her knees buckled, causing her to slump between the graves, an outstretched hand resting on each mound of earth as she gasped out a prayer.

  “God help me. Please. I feel like I’ve let them down by not being able to remember them. If You will...give me a memory of them and the love we shared. I need them...need to know them in my mind the way I once knew and loved them in my heart...please...”

  Macy knelt there for a few minutes longer, aware that Nick waited, watching over her. She was glad he’d come with her. This was too hard, too devastating to face alone. She was beginning to realize that searching for the truth might not be what she had expected when she came to Walnut Grove. But she had a job to do, not only for her mother and father, but for both of the women who had raised and loved them. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as she got to her feet, more determined than ever not to let them down. With God’s help she would never give up searching for the truth, no matter how long it took or where it led.

  * * *

  Nick stood silent, watching Macy. He could almost feel her grief, her emotion, touching him as if the two of them were connected to each other in some way. She knelt between the two graves, and he sensed she was praying. He sent up a prayer of his own, asking God to comfort her. This had to be hard. Suddenly he realized how alone she was, how vulnerable. She’d never mentioned other family members, friends, anyone who would be there for her. Was that why he felt the need to help her as much as he could? Did God have a reason for putting him in Macy’s life? If so, he prayed he wouldn’t let either of them down.

  Although he wanted to reach out to her, he wouldn’t intrude on her space. She needed to be alone right now. Alone with her family’s graves. This was a tough time for Macy, but Nick believed God would calm her, give her the peace she needed so desperately. Still, he was grateful he could be there for her. She might need him later.

  His own parents were buried here, but he knew how they had died, had lived through their funerals. Although it had been painful for him, he realized Macy was dealing with a more crushing problem. She couldn’t remember her family members. He had good memories; she had nothing. He couldn’t take the place of what she had lost, but he promised God that he would be there for her, and if it was at all possible, he would keep her safe and do everything he could to help her regain her memory.

  Macy turned around to find Nick standing close behind her. He reached out and she stumbled into his arms. He held her in a gentle embrace. For a moment she leaned against him, as if drawing strength from his presence. His lips brushed her forehead as he murmured words of comfort. After a moment she stepped away, swiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I sort of lost myself for a minute.”

  He drew her back to him. “It’s all right. I’m glad I could be here with you.”

  She leaned against him and he realized how much she needed someone; maybe she didn’t actually need him, although he’d like to think so, but she needed someone to be here so she wouldn’t be by herself. Visiting these graves alone would have been overwhelming. After a few minutes they walked back to the pickup.

  Once inside Nick turned to look at her. “You all right?”

  “I am now.” Macy placed her hand on his arm. “Nick, thank you.”

  He gently stroked her cheek. “Anytime, Macy. You need me, I’ll be there—whatever happens, whatever you need.” He knew all too well he couldn’t be there
every minute, but he’d do everything humanly possible to keep her safe.

  He started the motor and drove her back home. They didn’t talk much, and he suspected she was thinking about the graves and the time they had spent there. When they reached the house he walked her to the door and hugged her again before he left.

  She gazed up at him, her smile tremulous. “Thank you for going with me. I can’t express how much it meant to me.”

  “I’m glad you asked me. Do you need me to stay or are you all right?”

  “I’m fine now.”

  “Well, anytime you need me, you call and I’ll come.”

  She nodded, and he squeezed her hand, hating to leave her but he wanted to find out more about Steve Douglas’s trial.

  A few hours later he was working again. He decided to drive by and check on Macy just to be sure everything was all right after their long afternoon at her family’s grave site. As he drove down the street all was quiet, but he felt his senses go on high alert. Suddenly, a shrill, ear-splitting howl seemed to be coming at him from all directions.

  An alarm!

  An alarm was going off somewhere on this street. He stopped in front of the Lassiter house where the noise was the loudest. Someone was trying to break in. He swerved into the drive. The entryway light was on and the front door closed. The noise stopped and the sudden silence was almost as shocking as the noise had been.

  Nick jumped out of the car and ran toward the house. The porch light came on. He ran up the steps and Macy opened the door. She stood before him wearing a robe, hair tousled and carrying a cane like a weapon. Her eyes were wide with fear.

  Nick, one hand on his gun, looked around before entering the house. “You all right?”

  “Something set off the alarm.” Her voice quivered.

  “Yeah, I heard it. The neighbors did, too. Most of them are out on their porches. I’ll let them know you’re okay.”

  He stepped out on the porch and waved before examining the door and pointing to the sharply etched fresh scratch marks on the door frame.