Dangerous Inheritance (6 page)

Sam grunted. “That Douglas woman. You need to stay away from her. She’s trouble from the get-go. I don’t want you hanging around talking to her while on the clock. And that’s an order.”

Nick pursed his lips, feeling contrary. “I’d think you’d want someone watching her to see what she’s going to do next.”

“You sure that’s what you’ve got on your mind? She’s a good-looking woman and I’d hate to see you get involved with whatever trouble she plans to stir up.”

Nick thought about telling him that Macy didn’t remember her parents, didn’t remember living in that house, but that was her story to tell. “All she wants is to learn the truth. I can’t see any harm in that. The way I see it, knowing the truth is always better than believing a lie.”

“You go right on meddling if that’s what you’re determined to do, but don’t come running to me when you get in trouble. And if you help divide this town, you can forget about your job security. You got that?”

“I got it.” Nick watched Sam stomp toward his car. Really ticked off. That wasn’t good. Maybe he should back off, forget about it, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. Even if the truth destroyed his memories of his father. He hoped it didn’t come to that, but from the way Sam was acting, Nick had a gut feeling there might be a surprise headed his way.

FIVE

T
he next morning, Macy unearthed a box of breakfast burritos from the bottom of the freezer and settled for one of those, washing it down with freshly made coffee, and then got ready for church.

As she backed out of the driveway, she wondered if she’d see Nick. She straightened the car, irritated at the thought. Why would she care one way or another? After all, he was practically a stranger. Although, against her better judgment, she found herself thinking about him and depending on him much more than she should. She needed to back off where Nick Baldwin was concerned, not let him get in the way or distract her from her goal. Still she smiled, thinking it would be nice to see a familiar face.

Macy found the church, a medium-size white stucco building. A tall steeple pointed toward the lacy clouds drifting over a bright blue sky. Inside, the sun glowed through stained-glass windows depicting scenes from the Bible. Macy walked the center aisle and took a seat about halfway down.

Across the aisle from her an older woman with white hair and piercing hazel eyes smiled a welcome. Another woman, seated in front of Macy, whose face held enough wrinkles to belie the youthfulness of her bleached-blonde hair, turned and gave her a cold look before dismissing her with an audible sniff.

All right. Not everyone would welcome her. Had she really expected them to? After all, she wasn’t here because she wanted to win friends and influence people. She was searching for information and she’d take what she could get, where she could find it, even if she had to fight for every morsel.

Which wasn’t exactly the right attitude for attending church. Was she misusing a worship service for her own personal reasons? Maybe she needed to get her priorities straight.

As she stood to leave after the closing hymn, a warning tingle rippled up her spine. The hair on her arms prickled as she felt an almost visible wave of hostility wash over her. Stunned, Macy grasped the back of the seat in front of her so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her eyes searched the congregation. No one seemed to be paying attention to her, and after a moment the sensation of being watched—of being hated—eased. She took a deep breath and released the back of the wooden pew.

The blonde shoved past without a glance in her direction, but the older woman stopped to talk. “Macy? I’m Hilda Yates. I was a friend of your grandmother Lassiter.”

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 worried 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.”