Grave Secrets (3 page)

“The family asked me to look into it is all.” Which wasn’t the total truth, but not an outright lie, either.

Glancing at the stuffed rabbit, she relaxed her shoulders. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

If it’ll keep you talking
. “Sure. That’d be great.”

She gracefully stood and headed down the long hallway. The well-worn toy she’d had a death grip on sat as rigidly in the chair as the woman had. If Morgan didn’t know better, he’d swear the rabbit was watching him. A cold sweat slammed into him.

What the hell?

Morgan glanced around the room. Nothing warranted the unease he felt.
Weird.
Squaring his shoulders, he shook off the feeling and followed Sara. The sway of her hips in her baggy pants instantly took his mind off the odd sensations. Skinny as she was, the woman still had some nice curves. The image of her in the picture flashed across his mind. A few more pounds to fill out those pants, strain against her tailored top...

Jerking his mind back to business, he mentally assessed the layout of the interior. Teak and mahogany furniture, Oriental rugs, crystal vases, rare paintings. The husband’s medical claims business must be pretty good.

He’d assumed she had help to take care of the house, do the cooking and cleaning. After all, most people who lived in this neck of the woods had live-in help. This place, though, was as quiet as a graveyard. If anyone else was here, they sure knew how to remain invisible.

He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, taking note of the large center-island, industrial size stove, dual ovens, double-wide refrigerator, butler’s walk-in pantry, crystal and china sparkling through the glass doors, marble countertops. The place was designed to see a lot of activity.

Morgan preferred a much smaller setting. This place was too perfect, too clean, and lacked any warmth or personality; more of a showcase than a home. Briefly, he wondered why she stayed in this mausoleum all by herself. Unless that was what she preferred. Could be a motive for murder if the hubby didn’t like living there. She wanted to maintain a high-class profile, he preferred low key. Morgan ran scenarios through his mind.

Filling the pot with water, she poured it into the coffeemaker, then stretched to get cups out of the cabinet. Her pants pulled taunt across her skinny butt in the process. The petite blond in front of him was none of the things he normally preferred in women. Tall, feisty redheads full of spirit with more of everything were more to his liking. So why did Sara Adams intrigue him?

Bypassing the delicate cups, she settled on sturdy mugs. “How do you like your coffee, Mr. Daniels?”

“Strong enough to bring a person out of a coma.”

She laughed, the sound almost brittle. “I’m afraid this won’t be to your liking. Do you take anything in it?”

“Black will do.” He moved farther into the room. “Fancy layout.”

She glanced around the area. “It’s adequate.”

Now he laughed. “Is that what you call it? Adequate? You could feed the Fifth Marine Division in here.”

She turned her back to fiddle with the sugar bowl. What didn’t she want him to see in her expression?

Moving to the pantry as the coffee’s aroma filled the room, she placed several Danish rolls on a plate, setting them on the island countertop.

Morgan lowered his frame onto one of the tall bar stools, appreciating the fact he didn’t have to find room for his long legs in a cramped space under the counter.

“Where’s the rest of your family?”

She stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“I take it you don’t have any family in the area. Otherwise they’d be with you.”

“Why would you think that?”

He could all but see the layer of frost settling over her. “Exhuming your husband isn’t an everyday occurrence. I’d think you’d want someone there for support.”

“Then you assumed wrong, Mr. Daniels.” Tight lipped, she poured his coffee, then set the mug and a plate with a fork none too gently in front of him before taking the seat opposite him.

“Mrs. Adams, you were married to a prominent member of the community. You live in an exclusive neighborhood where I assume you would have a staff of servants at your disposal and pretty much know everyone who lives here. Yet you seem very much alone. Why is that?”

“How I live is none of your business.”

Her expression hard, he could still see the pain in her eyes. Or was it loneliness? Perhaps desperation for other human contact? Why else would she invite him for coffee when she’d asked him to leave earlier? He felt lower than a skunk, but he couldn’t stop.

“True. But I’m not far off the mark, am I?”

She sat there, staring him down.

As the clock ticked off the seconds, he found himself getting lost in the blue depths of those eyes. His gaze drifted to her lips and suddenly had the urge to reach across the counter to stroke them, to run the pad of his thumb over them to see if they felt as good as they looked. He ignored the impulse.

To his surprise, he blinked first. “Do you still entertain?”

“It’s only been six months since my family was taken from me—”

That was an interesting way of wording it.

“—and having a party certainly isn’t a priority or a desire.”

She poked at the Danish she’d placed on her plate with the fork, leaving the pastry in a pile of crumbs, belying the controlled exterior she projected.

He leaned on his forearms, placing him even closer; softened his tone. “Where’d you meet Jason?”

Maybe because of his familiar use of her husband’s name, maybe for other reasons, but her mouth dropped open before she shuttered her features. Not before Morgan noticed a bit of wariness cross her face, though. Good thing he was watching her closely; otherwise he would’ve missed it.

“College.”

He leaned back, taking a more casual pose. “So you’re a Sooner fan?”

“I never said we went to OU. We attended Loyola.”

“New Orleans?”

Her nostrils flared. “Chicago.”

Test one, A-plus.
“Let me guess, you were a Liberal Arts major.”

She didn’t blink. “Double major. Liberal Arts plus Business with a minor in Marketing.”

Was that the reason Jason had been so attracted to her in the first place? He hadn’t exactly been at the top of his class. Partying was more his style. However, he’d managed to turn his image around once he’d taken over the family business. Sara, on the other hand, had pretty much carried a 4.0 with a double major to boot. Morgan had made a point of doing a background check on both of them after Andy’s death.

As she slid off the stool, she tucked her arms around her waist, then moved to the back door. Jaw set, she leaned against the door jamb as she stared into the yard. Finally, she faced him.

The tough façade of a moment ago gone, she asked, “They’ll tell me, won’t they? About the baby, I mean?” She looked lost, defeated.

“Yes, ma’am. Reece—Detective Cannon—will be in touch as soon as he can. In all likelihood, they’ll put a rush on the tests, but it’ll still take some time.”

Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath. “I see. So I’ll be contacted by the police?”

“Yes.”

She nodded in acceptance, then cocked her head. “Wait. You said you were looking into Andrew’s death.”

“That’s correct.”

“So why are you here? I don’t know anything about his death. I wasn’t even there.” Suspicion etched her features.

“I’m on retainer with the General Rating Insurance Company.”

“What?” She stared, slack-jawed. “I thought you worked with the police.”

“I do work with them, but in this case my employer is the insurance company.”

“Oh.” The lost look was gone, replaced by one of a trapped animal. She withdrew into herself as if she were building a barricade to keep him out. Why? Was his first instinct on track and she was somehow involved in her husband’s death? He had to find out. He’d let people down who mattered to him one too many times.

This time he intended to make it right.

Or die trying.

“As you know, both men had large policies with the company.”

Comprehension finally dawned on her. “You’re investigating Jason’s death, too.”

Morgan didn’t bother responding.

“Why are they looking into his death? There weren’t any problems before. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have paid out on the policy.”

At the time, they didn’t think you might have murdered him, either.
However, it was his job to get to the truth, so he took a different tact to keep her off balance.

“Do you think there’s a connection between your husband’s death and your child’s disappearance?” Up until they’d found the infant’s remains, the thought of her baby’s disappearance being connected with the husband’s death hadn’t occurred to him. He’d only been looking at Jason Adams in conjunction with Andy’s death.

She blinked those deep-ocean blue eyes, the ones that made him feel as if he’d been sucker punched from the moment he’d first seen her. With her fair skin, light blond hair and slight build, all a man wanted to do was protect her. Not rake her over the coals. Which was exactly what he’d do.

“Wh—why in the world would you think that? There couldn’t possibly be a connection, could there?”

Morgan forced his expression to remain neutral. He liked to move when trying to unravel a puzzle, but there were times when he had to remain perfectly still. Like now. Maybe she was an innocent party. Or maybe she was an excellent actress. Right now he couldn’t be sure of anything.

“No reason. It was just a stray thought.”

“Oh?” She didn’t look like she believed him.

“After this morning’s, um, discovery, I wasn’t going to go into this. But, if you really want to continue...”

“Say what you have to say.”

Morgan scrubbed a hand across his chin, the stubble rough against his fingers. There were too many coincidences. And he didn’t believe in them. First, the owner of the company dropped dead, then just a few months later, the new CFO—and Morgan’s best friend since first grade—had died under similar circumstances.

Now a dead baby was found in Jason Adams’ grave. When they’d found the bag in the grave, Sara had seemed genuinely upset. She could have been acting when she’d looked as if she’d seen a ghost, then passed out. But he doubted anyone was that good. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, she’d gone limp, then had begun to slide out of his arms.

As he’d carried her away from the grave, he tried not to think about how good she felt or how she smelled all clean and crisp. Once again, he shoved the image out of his mind and jerked his thoughts back to the present. She sat quietly, obviously waiting for him to continue.

“What happened the day your baby went missing?”

Briefly she closed her eyes, and when she looked at him, pain radiating from them. “It’s etched on my brain. I lost my world that day.”

She stared toward the pantry a few moments, as if looking into the past, then lowered her gaze. “We came back here after the services. The mayor, everyone, came to pay their respects. Nana was watching Kaycee. Later, when the crowd thinned, I went to check on her. She’d been asleep so Nana had come down to get some food. That’s when I discovered Kaycee gone.”

She’d said the words in a monotone, as if they’d been memorized, but when she looked at him, her face was haunted, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary or anyone who shouldn’t have been here?”

She slowly blinked. Color tinged her cheeks. “Besides the caterers, everyone dressed in black and the overpowering fragrance of a dozen flower arrangements with ‘In Sympathy’ on the ribbons, no, there wasn’t a
single thing
out of the ordinary about the day.” Her voice rose with each word.

Morgan winced, yet refused to concede how big of an ass he was being. Instead, he nodded as if her response was perfectly normal. Under similar circumstances, he doubted he would’ve been as civil.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

Her lips formed a little O before she settled her expression into a shield. Presumably to block him out. Except he wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet.

“Did you question your grandmother regarding the baby’s whereabouts? Or did you call the police right away? Who helped you search the house? Who left the premises as fast as they could?” Somewhere in the mix, she’d slip up, if indeed she had anything to do with the child’s disappearance. If she wasn’t involved, then he’d deal with that later.

“I—I don’t know who left or when. I ran to the nursery, but when she wasn’t there I rushed back downstairs. I—I remember pushing through the crowd crying her name. People stared at me like they thought I’d had a nervous breakdown, some grabbed my arm, but I shook them off. I didn’t know which way to turn. Everybody in the room seemed to be looking at me so if one of them had Kaycee, I guess they could’ve slipped out unnoticed.” Realization dawned on her. “Oh, Lord. Did I help the person leave here with my child?”

Her breathing shallow, she chewed on her bottom lip. Trembling, she climbed back on the same barstool she’d occupied earlier.

Was she faking it? Not that he could discern. Morgan was willing to bet if he took her pulse right now, it’d be off the charts. “What happened then?” Deliberately, his voice held a touch of steel. He didn’t want her to think he was sympathetic, even though he felt her pain.

More than she could imagine.

Horror etched her face. “I—I didn’t think. I didn’t stop anyone from leaving. I don’t even know who was here and who wasn’t when I finally called the police.” Chin quivering; her breath came in shallow puffs. But she didn’t cry.

Despite his resolve, the vulnerable woman got to him. He softened his tone. “More than likely, the person who took your baby was already gone before you discovered her missing. Did the police question the people present? Maybe one of them saw someone suspicious who would give them a lead.”

She shook her head. “Most were gone by the time the officers arrived and I didn’t think to ask them to stay.” She paused. “That was wrong, wasn’t it?”