Читать книгу The Secret Heiress - Terri Reed - Страница 11

TWO

Don’s blood pressure skyrocketed. His fists clenched. He’d known coming here was a bad idea. “Why would you summon Caroline if you knew she’d be in danger?”

“I didn’t know. Not when I sent Willard to find her,” Elijah insisted.

“Who’s Willard?” Don asked.

“A local private investigator.” His rheumy gaze pleaded for understanding. “I thought I was dying so I sent for you. But by the time I realized that someone wanted me dead, it was too late—you were already on your way.”

Distress played over Caroline’s face. “Why do you think someone is trying to kill you?”

Elijah shook his head. “Not trying. Succeeding. The doctor says I should be getting better but I’m not.”

“What sickness do you have?” Don asked.

“Addison’s disease. Or so the doctor claims.” His bushy gray eyebrows drew together. “No one believes me that there’s more to it than that.”

Don exchanged a dubious glance with Caroline.

“What is Addison’s?” Caroline asked.

“My adrenal glands aren’t producing enough of their hormones, allowing my immune system to attack the glands. But Addison’s can be controlled with medication. I should be getting better, and instead…” He gestured around him.

“Have you sought a second opinion?” she asked.

“Dr. Reese is the only doctor around. I’ve asked to have a doctor from Jackson come in. Samuel said he’d see to it after the holidays. I might not make it that long.”

“Why not go to the nearest hospital?” Don asked.

Elijah frowned with frustration. “I don’t like hospitals. The doctor can come to me. But no one will call him.”

“Why do you think someone wants you dead?” Don pressed, unsure what to believe, but needing answers so he could keep Caroline safe.

The old man snorted beneath his breath. “Greed, why else? Once I’m gone—” He paused as a spasm of pain twisted his wrinkled face.

Don’s thoughts turned to Samuel Maddox. Caroline’s uncle, Isabella’s brother. Don might not have a background in investigative work, but he knew the first rule—follow the money. Was Samuel the one behind the attempt on Caroline’s life and his father’s? He had the most to gain and the most to lose. “You named Caroline as a coheir in your will. I assume your son, Samuel, is the other heir.”

“Yes. I’ve made provisions for his family of course, and the staff. But Samuel and Isabella’s child are my heirs.”

He searched Caroline’s face. “You look so much like Isabella. When you walked in, I thought I was seeing her again.”

Caroline blinked. “I do?”

The wistful note in her tone brought an ache to Don’s chest.

“Where is she buried?” Caroline asked.

Elijah dropped his gaze. Anguish washed over his face. “Fayette Cemetery. In the family plot next to her mother.”

“Can you tell us what happened to her?” Don asked. Though he’d read the brief report the NOPD sent to Trent, he wanted to learn what the family knew.

Torment filled the old man’s face. “Murdered. My baby was murdered.”

Blunt force trauma to the back of the head. The weapon used had been the base of a brass table lamp. The police found no fingerprints in the apartment other than Isabella’s suggesting the killer had worn gloves.

The heartbreak on Caroline’s face twisted Don’s insides into knots. A fat tear rolled slowly down her cheek, leaving a wet trail. Don fought the urge to pull her close and soothe away her tears. A real fiancé would. But he wasn’t her fiancé. Not even close.

A clap of thunder exploded in the charged silence. Don flinched, the sound triggering old terrors, old memories. Caroline reached for his hand and held on tight. The warmth of her touch grounded him in the moment and made him feel needed as a man, not just as a bodyguard.

Oh, brother, he was treading in deep water here.

“The police said it was a burglary gone bad,” Elijah said. His brow furrowed. “Except…”

“Except?” Don probed. The police report stated there were jewelry and other items missing, leading them to suspect robbery as the motive.

“The lead detective told me there was no forced entry.”

A cold knot of apprehension fisted in Don’s gut. Isabella Maddox had opened the door to her killer. A far different situation than a random intruder. That wasn’t in the report he’d read. Something wasn’t right about Isabella Maddox’s murder. But he wasn’t an investigator nor was it his job to solve a cold case. His sole intent was to protect Caroline.

“Does that mean she knew her attacker?” Shock reverberated in Caroline’s voice.

“Maybe. It could have been someone delivering something or a repair man. But whichever the case, it wasn’t random.” She’d been targeted. Like Caroline. But was Isabella’s death related to the threat against Caroline? This situation kept getting more complicated every minute.

“When was she…killed?” Caroline’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“October 20, twenty-seven years ago.”

Caroline made a strangled sound. “I was born September 30.”

She leaned into Don as if her legs suddenly couldn’t support her. The need to protect rose sharply. Only this wasn’t a physical threat, but an emotional one. Don was out of his comfort zone. The best he could do was to remove her from the situation, allow her time to come to terms with the information she’d learned of her birth mother’s death and try to talk her into leaving—hiding somewhere until the police found the person who had tried to kill her. He let go of her hand, took her by the shoulders and steered her toward the door.

She went willingly but as they reached the threshold she stopped abruptly. “He’s in danger.”

“It could be the ravings of a dying man,” Don insisted in a low voice.

Caroline wiped at her tears. “We have to find out for sure.”

“No, we should leave now before the storm gets any worse.”

Proud and beautiful, she held his gaze, her chin at a defiant angle, her shoulders squared. “Gorgeous” wouldn’t be swayed. “I’m not leaving until I know what’s going on. If someone is hurting him then it’s up to us to stop it.”

Determined. Stubborn. And courageous. A potent mix that could get her killed. Respect for this gutsy lady grew even as he prepared to counter any argument. “If a crime is being committed, it’s up to the police to stop it. You’re not any safer here than he is. Remember, someone tried to kill you. That person could be in this house.”

“Of course I’m safe. I have you.”

Her confidence in his abilities sent pleasure curling through his system. He hoped he lived up to her expectations.

Her gaze shifted back toward her grandfather. “He needs protection. If what he claims is true, then he must be a victim of the same person who has been attacking me.” The plea in her eyes tugged at Don. “Please, we have to help him.”

Don lifted a hand to capture one last stray tear that fell from her lovely amber eyes. “You have such a tender and stubborn heart.”

A smile touched her lips and pleasure lit up her eyes. “Does that mean we’ll stay? You’ll protect both of us?”

Did he have a choice? Yes. But he couldn’t walk away and leave her here alone. He had a job to do. He’d see it through to the end. “We can talk to his doctor and find out what’s going on with his health.”

“That’s a start.” She walked back toward her grandfather. “How do we contact Dr. Reese?”

“Ask Horace or Mary,” Elijah said, his raspy voice sounding weak.

Don started forward. “Mary?”

“Mary is Horace’s wife.”

A sharp burst of thunder rattled the window. On its heels followed a loud explosion that shuddered through the house. The sound filled the room, close and intense. What little light the lamp provided winked out throwing the room into blackness. Caroline let out a startled squawk echoed by another female shriek farther away in the house. Somewhere outside, dogs barked.

Acting on training and instinct, Don pulled Caroline to the floor and covered her with his body. For a split second, he was catapulted back in time to Afghanistan. His unit had been pinned down under enemy fire in Kandahar. Screams of dying soldiers surrounded him. The dust of mortar shells demolishing the walls of the building where they’d taken refuge filled his nostrils. He could still feel the grit on his skin, in his eyes. Feel the despair building in his chest. The unspoken prayer on his tongue…

“Don?”

Shaking off the memory with a shudder, he eased off Caroline. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

Senses on high alert, Don evaluated the threat level. Whatever had exploded had been outside. No one else had entered the room and there hadn’t been any subsequent explosions or gunshots. For the moment they were safe. He got his feet beneath him and helped Caroline up.

“Mr. Maddox?”

“Still here,” he said with a wry note in his voice.

“What was that?” She clutched his arm as they rose to their feet.

“Not sure.” Quickly orienting himself to the dark, he led her to the window and drew back the curtain. Outside, the answer was clear. A huge oak tree a couple yards from the house had been split in two by lightning. Half of the tree’s charred remains had landed across the power lines. Sparks danced from the exposed wires torn from their fasteners. The other half of the tree landed in the driveway, effectively blocking the rental car.

Caution traipsed up his spine. What were the chances that lightning would strike that tree causing it to fall in exactly that way? He wanted to inspect the trunk. But that would have to wait until he had Caroline in a secure location.

“I guess the option of leaving before the storm gets worse is off the table,” Caroline murmured.

“We can borrow a car.”

She made a scoffing noise. “No.”

“Roger that.” Of course she wouldn’t give in that easily.

Horace appeared in the doorway carrying a lit candle. The glow pushed the shadows to the corners. “Mr. Maddox?”

“We’re okay here,” Elijah answered from the bed. “The others?”

“Everyone is accounted for, sir.” He moved all the way into the room to offer Don a pewter candleholder with a thick unlit candle in the center. “Just until the backup generator kicks in.”

Don took the holder, tipping it so the wick could touch the lit one in Horace’s hand. “Is the power out in the whole house?”

Horace nodded. “Yes. Phone lines down, too. Mrs. Maddox would like to meet you downstairs.” From the research, Don knew that must be Abigail Maddox, the wife of Caroline’s uncle Samuel.

“I don’t think we should leave Mr. Maddox,” Caroline said.

From the bed, Elijah said, “Go on, child. I’m tired and need to rest. Mary will be along shortly to keep me company.”

“Nothing can be done at the moment,” Don stated in a low voice.

“We’ll return shortly,” Caroline assured her grandfather.

Elijah nodded, but his gaze narrowed to Don. “Keep her safe.”

“Of course,” Don replied.

They followed Horace downstairs. When they hit the entryway, quick footsteps coming down the hall heralded the arrival of a stylish woman in her early forties wearing tailored black slacks, a pink cashmere sweater and pearls. Her light blond hair was coiffed in an elegant updo. She carried a lit hurricane lamp that added a bright glow to Don’s candle.

The woman came to a stop in front of Caroline. “You look just like Isabella,” she said in clipped modulated tones, her eyes assessing.

Hearing of her likeness to Isabella from this woman was different than hearing it from Elijah. There was no sentiment in Abigail’s matter-of-fact tone. Just a statement of fact that left Caroline feeling hollow. Elijah had clearly loved his daughter, but there was no indication of warmth or affection coming from her sister-in-law.

“This is Caroline Tully and I’m Don Cavanaugh. Her fiancé,” Don said after a tense heartbeat. “And you are?”

“Abigail Maddox.” Gesturing to the teens coming down the stairs, she said, “My children, Landon and Lilly. Fraternal twins.”

Finding her voice, Caroline said, “Nice to meet you.”

“Children, please go out and retrieve…your cousin and her fiancé’s travel cases and bring them in,” Abigail said.

Caroline’s stomach clenched. Cousins. She’d always wanted cousins. Neither of her adopted parents had siblings. But surely they shouldn’t be sent out into the storm. Lightning had just struck.

The twins’ eyebrows dipped in tandem.

“That’s Horace’s job, Mother,” Landon whined.

Lilly crossed her arms over her chest. “And it’s almost time for dinner!”

“The bags can wait,” Don said. “It’s not safe out there right now.”

Impatience flashed across Abigail’s face. “Please. It’s just a storm. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up before dinner.” Her green eyes narrowed on her children. “Do it.”

Caroline flinched and exchanged a glance with Don. Aunt Abigail certainly wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type.

Landon’s shoulders slumped. “Fine.” He turned his dark-eyed gaze to Don. “Where are your bags?”

Don held out the keys to the rental. “The trunk.”

Landon took the keys and headed toward the door.

His sister stood rooted in place, her hazel gaze studying Caroline. “Why are you here?”

“Lilly, don’t be rude. Your granddad invited them. She’s here to get to know her family.”

The girl snorted her disapproval. “More like she wants his money.”

“No, I don’t,” Caroline blurted quickly. “That’s not why I’m here at all.” She turned her gaze to Abigail. “I just want to know where I came from.”

“Of course, you do,” Abigail said, exaggerated understanding lacing her words. “Don’t pay them any mind.”

Landon pulled open the front door. He glared at his sister.

“Come on, Lilly. You have to help.”

Abruptly, Lilly turned and followed her brother out into the rain.

Abigail let out a long-suffering sigh. “I can’t wait until they outgrow the surly stage.”

Caroline gave a silent sigh of her own. She didn’t want to explain her reason for being here any further to her increasingly worrisome relatives.

A middle-age man came out of the adjacent room. “I see our guests have arrived,” his deep voice boomed.

“Yes, darling,” Abigail said. “Come meet your niece and her young man.”

He held out his hand to Don first. “Samuel Maddox.”

“Donovan Cavanaugh. Call me Don.”

“Good of you to come, Don.” Samuel turned his attention to Caroline with a welcoming smile. “I’m so happy to meet you, Caroline.”

As she shook his hand, she couldn’t help staring into his amber eyes and feeling like she was looking in a mirror. He had raven-colored hair and an olive complexion, much like her own. A blood relative. Her uncle.

“Where are those kids?” Abigail gestured toward the front door with a graceful, bejeweled hand. “Sam, darling, the children are supposed to be bringing in our guests’ bags. I’m afraid they may have gotten distracted by the split oak.”

The front door burst open on her last word and the twins stumbled in tugging the suitcases behind them. The sound of heavy rain pelting the earth filled the entryway until Lilly slammed the door shut. Pervading humidity made the house damp like a mausoleum. The teens shook their heads, like shaggy dogs, spraying water on everything within reach of the flying droplets.

Abigail said nothing to the twins, though her lips pursed in disapproval. Instead, she turned back to Caroline and Don. “Come, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Don handed Caroline the candle, then he grabbed the cases and followed behind. The second story was decorated much like the downstairs—once-elegant furnishings worn bare and shabby. As they passed the open door of one room, Caroline glanced in. Aided by the glow from the candle she carried, she caught the brief impression of cotton-candy-pink walls and ruffles. Most certainly Lilly’s domain. Yet the girl didn’t seem like the frilly type.

Abigail led them to the end of the hall and stopped before a closed door. “Mr. Cavanaugh, you’ll stay here. Caroline, you will be over here.” She moved to the closed door directly across the hall and pushed the door open with a flourish.

Caroline entered to find a beautiful four-poster canopy bed with white linens, a dresser and a vanity and spindle chair. A bench seat stretched beneath the window overlooking the back of the property.

Don set her suitcase on the floor just inside the door. A flash of lightning, lit up the window, making the delicate lace window coverings appear translucent. A second later thunder rumbled. Caroline noticed Don’s slight flinch. She was glad they’d made it to the house before the storm had worsened.

“As soon as you come back downstairs we’ll serve dinner,” Abigail said, clearly unperturbed by the raging weather outside.

Caroline waited until the other woman was out of earshot to whisper to Don, “I hate to think that one of these people wants me and my grandfather dead.”

“Your uncle has the most to gain with you out of the way,” Don stated. “He’d be the sole heir apparent.”

She swallowed back the unease clogging her throat.

Her uncle had greeted her with such warmth. He, like Elijah, had seemed truly glad to see her. Was it all an act? She’d have to use her time here to find the truth. It was the only way she could be safe—and the only way to help her grandfather. Elijah Maddox needed someone to believe him. Someone to protect him. And with her private bodyguard/fake fiancé’s help, she was that someone. And maybe while she searched for answers, she’d be able to learn about her mother, as well—something she’d wanted to do for as long as she could remember.

Despite the apparent danger, she was staying.

Don escorted Caroline to the dining room to find the family already seated at the formal table. Three tall candelabras spaced equal distances apart on the table provided barely adequate light.

Two empty places awaited them. Sensing tension as thick as mortar smoke, Don curbed his desire to whisk Caroline out of the creepy place and instead held out the empty chair next to her uncle at the far end of the table. Landon sat in the chair next to her. Don rounded the table to sit across from Caroline on Samuel’s left next to Lilly. Abigail sat at the opposite end of the table. Gold-rimmed china gleamed in the candlelight.

“Lucky for us, dinner was ready before the power went down,” Abigail said.

“Horace mentioned there was a back-up generator?” Don asked.

“Yes, in the cellar,” Samuel answered. “It’s gas powered. I told Horace it could wait until after dinner.”

“Dining by candlelight is such a treat,” Abigail said. “Don’t you agree, Caroline?”

“The candles certainly add ambiance,” Caroline replied.

An older woman emerged from a swinging door carrying a steaming platter of vegetables, Horace followed with a platter of sliced roast beef.

“Asparagus? Ugh,” Landon whined as the woman placed the green spears on his plate.

“Mind your manners, young man,” Samuel said.

Landon shot a venomous glance toward Caroline, as if she were to blame for the vegetables. Perhaps the kids were not required to eat veggies regularly. Still, the animosity coming off the kid grated on Don. He pinned the boy with a stare until Landon noticed and dropped his gaze to his plate.

“Elijah’s illness, was it sudden?” Don asked Samuel, trying to gage his reaction.

A look of sadness passed over the older man’s face. “This fall he suffered a nasty bout of pneumonia. According to Dr. Reese, the pneumonia triggered an Addison crisis.”

“His body attacked his glands and chewed ’em up like mini, hungry carnivores,” Lilly said with relish before stabbing a chunk of meat and devouring it in one bite.

“Gross,” Landon complained, dropping his fork with a clatter.

“Lilly, that’s enough,” Abigail commanded.

“But it’s true,” she countered with a smirk at her brother.

“Yes, it’s true,” Samuel said. “Father’s body attacked his adrenal glands. It’s an autoimmune disease.”

Samuel had confirmed what Elijah had said. Don knew very little of the disease but he did know that with proper treatment, people who had it could live fairly normal lives. It didn’t make sense that Elijah was still so sick.

“Dr. Reese has tried everything to bring the disease under control, but my father’s body isn’t cooperating.” The sadness in Samuel’s eyes appeared genuine. But it could have been a trick of the flickering candle flame.

Don met Caroline’s gaze across the table. Candlelight shadowed the contours of her pretty face but he could see her unspoken concern. Was someone slowly killing Elijah, or was he dying a natural death?

As soon as he could, Don would contact Dr. Reese and find out. But the old man wasn’t Don’s primary concern.

Caroline needed him to protect her. He’d promised. And he never broke a promise.

Even though his gut instinct screamed for him to get Caroline away from the ominous events unfolding around them.