Dangerous Inheritance (21 page)

* * *

Nick watched Macy, noticing she had a wariness about her that was new. A tightness to her expression and a sense of vulnerability. The phone call had to have upset her. It worried him, too. Opal Lassiter had been well liked. She was a good woman, kind, hardworking, always ready to help others. He couldn’t think of any reason anyone would kill her unless it was related to Megan’s murder. Which worried him. The next victim could very well be Macy, the woman who was deliberately running around asking questions and getting people riled up.

Of course, he’d riled a few people, too, but he wasn’t worried about himself. All his thoughts were on keeping Macy safe. “Have you learned anything from the transcript of the trial?”

She shook her head. “No, and I’ve read it several times. It does seem that the evidence against my father was extremely weak.”

“Yeah, I caught that. No matter who killed Megan, there was a concentrated effort among people who should have acted differently to convict your father on some rather flimsy so-called evidence. But I think we have to move past that. Yes, they apparently railroaded Steve, but I’ve about decided that had nothing to do with Megan’s actual death.”

“I’ve thought that, too. The attack on my mother seemed personal, as if whoever killed her hated her for some reason. It was too violent to be normal.”

“So we find someone who had something against her. I’ve asked around town, but I haven’t found out anything so far. I think it’s there, though—we just have to find it.”

She looked so alone, so vulnerable, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and keep her safe, but he knew it would take more than that. Somehow he had to find the person who had killed Megan Douglas and tried to frame her husband. Because, like Macy, he had come around to believing Steve really had received a phone call.

“Did I tell you I talked to Garth Nixon?”

Macy shook her head, looking surprised. “No, you didn’t. What happened?”

“Not much. I’d heard he was in town that night and I asked him about it.”

“He was in town the night my father died? I didn’t know that. What did he say?”

“He acted like it wasn’t important, but he didn’t give me a direct answer, and he was holding a pencil. He gripped it so tight it snapped in two.”

The fire started burning in her eyes. “That shows tension. Did he say anything about my parents?”

Nick hesitated. Yes, he had, and it was all hateful. “He claims your father ruined his life with those editorials.”

“We knew that. Anything new?”

He shook his head. It wouldn’t help if he said anything, and there was no reason to tell Macy what Garth Nixon had said about her parents. All of which shoved Garth Nixon up the ladder as a suspect as far as Nick was concerned. So far, he seemed to have the best motive for getting rid of Steve Douglas, and he didn’t seem to be too fond of Megan, either.

* * *

Macy let her frustration show. “Apparently there’s not much to point to anyone. I’d think there would be some clues or something to at least give us an idea where to look.”

Nick sighed. “Macy, it’s been seventeen years. And back then no one tried very hard to find information that would point to anyone else. What was there is gone by now. We’re working in the dark for the most part.”

“So we might never learn the truth? Is that what you’re saying?”

Determination flooded through her. No matter what happened, she would never give up, never stop praying. She believed with all her heart that God had brought her this far. He wouldn’t forsake her now.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. We’re not going to quit until we solve this thing, for both of our sakes. But it’s not going to be easy, so don’t get your hopes up that we’re getting close to the end. We’ve got a few names we’re considering, but nothing definite yet.”

“I know, but what if it’s someone we haven’t thought about?”

“I’ve considered that, too. Look, Macy. I make you a promise. I will never give up until we find the real killer. But you need to realize we’re after someone who doesn’t want to get caught. Someone who will do whatever it takes to stay free. That means you have to be careful. We don’t have any real idea who we’re after, so you can’t take chances, and if you have any information at all, you have to tell me. I’m trying to protect you, but I need your help.”

Macy nodded, knowing he was right. “I’ll cooperate. And if I learn anything I’ll let you know.”

“Be sure you do.” He pulled her into his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head. Macy clung to him, sending up a swift prayer on his behalf. He was in danger, too. How could she live with herself if the search for her mother’s killer cost Nick his life?

SEVENTEEN

T
wo days later, the phone rang, startlingly loud in the silent house. Macy paused from washing dishes. Should she answer? Probably, but she didn’t want to. These taunting phone calls were dragging her down. She slowly picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

Her shoulders slumped in relief when she heard Nick’s voice. After the usual greetings, he got to the point. “You doing all right? No more phone calls?”

“Not so far.” And maybe she wouldn’t get any more. But that was a useless hope. The person calling wasn’t about to give up until she left town or was dead.

“I’ve been thinking, Macy. What caused you to come to Walnut Grove?”

“What do you mean? You know exactly why I came.”

“No, I mean, since you couldn’t remember your parents, how did you learn about your mother’s death and your father’s trial?”

“Oh, I see. Well, I found a box my grandmother had kept with all the information about them. Why?”

“I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind. Maybe there’s something there that might help us.”

“I haven’t looked at it since that first time, but I did bring it with me. When would you want to see it?” She was through holding back information. It was time to go through those clippings and letters and see if they could throw new light on this case. And who better to go through it all with her than Nick, the man who was trying to help?

“I’ve got a little time right now. I could be there in a few minutes if that’s okay.”

Macy hung up the phone and hurried upstairs to check her makeup and change her tan knit top into one more becoming. Yes, she wanted to look good for Nick. When she’d first come here the last thing on her mind was becoming involved with another man. But her relationship with Nick had only grown. She had a feeling God had a hand in it. If so, it was one more blessing He had given her.

Nick arrived and she stood looking at him for a minute, just enjoying the way his shoulders filled out his blue T-shirt. How his dark curls had been tamed to lightly brush his forehead. She wanted to reach out and ruffle them into an unruly mass, the way she’d seen them so many times. He grinned at her as if he knew what she was thinking, and she felt a blush warm her cheeks.

“Come on in. The box is in the kitchen.” Where she would sit across the table from him trying to keep her mind on the contents of that box instead of concentrating on Nick.

He sat down and Macy poured them each a cup of coffee, and then slid the metal container closer where he could reach it. She settled into a chair across from him, waiting. Nick looked from her to the box and back again. “Did your grandmother give you this? Or did you find it after she died?”

Macy glanced away from him, fighting for control. “She was in the hospital...dying. I was with her. I’d been with her day and night since she’d been admitted. She kept looking at me, acting almost frantic, as if there was something she had to say.”

She paused, reliving that night. Nick waited, and she swallowed hard and continued. “Finally she managed to say ‘box,’ then after a pause she sort of gasped, ‘the box.’ Then she slumped down with her eyes closed and I ran for the door to get help.”

Nick reached across the table, grasping her hands. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, gulping on a sob before struggling to go on. “The nurses came running...and in a few minutes it was all over. My grandmother was gone.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.” Nick murmured. “Wasn’t there anyone with you?”

Macy shook her head. “No. She had cancer once before, and we fought our way through that, then after a few years it came back, and this time we lost the battle. It took two years of treatment, two years of her gradually failing. During that time people just sort of dropped away, as if they had forgotten about us.”

“All of them? No one tried to help you?”

“Oh, at first they rallied around, but then I guess the newness wore off. Anyway, they stopped coming.”

She glanced up at him, not wanting to go on, but feeling compelled to. “I was engaged to a man I’d known since we attended high school together. I thought he would be there no matter what happened.”

“And he wasn’t?”

Macy heaved a sigh. “Two months after we learned my grandmother’s cancer had returned, he started dating a woman I had considered my best friend.”

“After that, he didn’t come around anymore.”

Nick watched her, seeing the glitter of tears, the way she gripped her coffee mug. She’d pulled her hands away from his when she started talking about this man. Did she still have feelings for him? He didn’t want to think so. The words fell from him, before he thought about it. “I wish I’d been there. I wouldn’t have left you like that.”

Macy gave him a crooked smile. “No, I don’t believe you would have.” She pulled her gaze away from his and gestured toward the box. “I guess we’d better get started.”

“Oh...yeah. I guess so.” He opened the box, glad to have a change in subject. It was getting too emotional in here.

The box was full of papers. He saw newspaper clippings, folded sheets of paper. Hopefully there would be something here that would give them some information. Information that would lead to a killer.

The doorbell rang and Macy got up to answer it. He heard voices and then she entered the kitchen alone. He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

She gave a quick jerk of her shoulders. “Just Neva. It’s cleaning day. She’ll start upstairs.”

One hour and two cups of coffee later Nick was still reading through the papers in the box, taking time to make notes of anything he thought might help. Macy sat at the other side of the table, doing the same thing. Neva walked into the kitchen and nodded at him before opening the doors under the sink and taking out a bottle of glass cleaner.

She glanced toward the table. “What are you doing now?”

Macy explained the box and its contents. “Have you found out anything new?” Neva asked.

Macy shook her head. “Not yet, but it’s extremely clear no one worked very hard to find out who was really guilty. I wonder who made that phone call that sent my father out of town so he wouldn’t be here to protect my mother?”

Neva leaned on the table, her voice extremely patient. “He lied about getting that phone call. No one called him. He was here, killing Megan. You have to accept that, Macy. Don’t let your guilt over not being able to remember them lead you to make a fool of yourself. Your father was convicted by a jury trial. He was found guilty.”

“He was convicted by a so-called jury, most of whom hated him for his politics. My father didn’t get a fair trial, and I’m going to find the person who committed the crime and framed him, no matter what it takes.”

Nick stopped reading to listen. He’d heard this story all over town, but how could anyone be so sure about that phone call or anything else for that matter?

Was Neva one of the citizens who had condemned Macy’s father for his political views? If so, why had she continued working for the family? Maybe he needed to do a little snooping around.

Neva shook her head. “Be careful what you stir up, Macy. If you’re right, and I’m not saying you are, you could be bringing a pile of trouble down on yourself. You don’t want to do that. I might not have agreed with your father, but I thought a lot of your mother, although she could be irritating sometimes, and I loved your grandmother. I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

“I’d hate that, too. Hey, Neva, was there anything suspicious about my grandmother’s death?”

Neva paused. “What are you talking about? The whole town knows Opal died in her sleep. What are you trying to stir up now?”

“I’m not trying to stir up anything, I just want to know what happened.”

“Well, no one ever hinted that there was something odd about Opal’s death. She died peacefully of natural causes. Don’t let your imagination run wild, Macy. And don’t cause any more trouble than you have to.”

“This
is
something I have to do. Can’t you understand? I need to know.”

“No, I don’t understand why you can’t accept what happened. And what about your memory?” Neva demanded. “Is it coming back to you? It doesn’t seem realistic that you can’t remember anything about that night. I know you were young, but after all, you were here in the house when she was killed.”

Macy sat silent, as if trying to decide what to say. Apparently this wasn’t anything she really wanted to talk about. Finally she said, “I’ve had a few flashes of things. I think it’s coming back. Maybe not all at once, but a little bit at a time. I’m confident I will eventually remember that night and what happened.”

“Well, like I’ve told you, it’ll probably be best for you if you don’t,” Neva said. “Sometimes we’re better off not knowing the past. It can get in the way. Life might be easier if none of us could remember what we’ve had to live through.”

Nick sat quietly listening. Sometimes you could learn more by keeping your mouth shut and letting someone else do the talking. He’d learned earlier how Neva’s daughter died, in a fiery crash involving another car. There were no survivors. He had to feel sorry for the woman. She’d had a lot to deal with, and losing a daughter that way had to be rough, but he was finding her comments a little abrasive.

Neva abruptly changed the subject, which seemed to surprise Macy. “What are you going to do with Opal’s clothes? The Second Time Around Shop accepts donations. The money supports a good cause.”