The Secret Heiress

He covered her hand in a fatherly gesture. She suddenly longed for her parents, the people who loved her. She didn’t go home to New Hampshire nearly often enough. She vowed to make a better effort to spend time with her mother and father.

“Don explained your situation,” James said. “I have every confidence in his ability to keep you safe.”

The tension inside of Caroline eased. Don would be her bodyguard. She’d be safe in his care. She felt almost light-headed with gratitude.

Don stepped into the room. His features that moments ago had shown compassion and kindness were now as hard as granite. His square jaw looked firm, his blue-green eyes watchful, but guarded.

She tilted her head, unsure why he’d become so cool.

Then she noticed he’d put on a shoulder holster. It held a big, black gun against his left side. A shiver tripped over her.

“I’ll escort you to Mississippi, Ms. Tully,” Don said.

Ms. Tully? Was he kidding? Her gaze darted to Mr. Trent. Was Don acting so weird and formal because of his boss? “Thank you, Mr. Cavanaugh. Mr. Trent.”

Trent patted her hand before rising from the sofa. “Don’t worry, Ms. Tully. You’ll be well protected.”

“I know,” she murmured, her gaze on Don.

Don inclined his head in deference to his boss as the man left the room. Then he turned to her, his expression still hard and unreadable. Mr. Trent was gone, so why was Don still being so distant?

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

“With the Burkes,” she replied. Kristina and her homicide-detective husband, Gabe, had been adamant she stay in their guest bedroom until the investigation was over. She’d gratefully accepted.

“We have a lot to arrange before we head south.”

She grasped his outstretched hand. Their palms pressed together. Her fingers curled automatically around his as he pulled her to her feet. She didn’t want to let go. His touch not only warmed, but made her feel connected to him. And kicked up an anxious flutter inside for yearning for that connection.

Not going there, she reminded herself. Ever. Again.

She extracted her hand. “How do we explain your presence in Mississippi?”

His mouth twisted in a grim smile. “I’m your new fiancé.”

Two days later, Caroline sat next to Don on a plane bound for Jackson, Mississippi. Though the police were still investigating the bombing of her apartment, they had yet to find a suspect. The lead detective had said he’d contact her if they came up with any answers. He saw no reason she should stick close. He did warn her to be careful. That was what Don was for. To make sure she was cared for. Safe.

Anticipation bubbled in her tummy.

Once she’d made the decision to journey south to the Maddox estate, everything had come together in a whirl of activity. She’d called Mr. Paladin to explain that she and her fiancé would be coming. He’d made the necessary preparations for their arrival.

After arranging for her assistant to take care of Caroline’s clothing store through the holidays, she and Don traveled to New Hampshire to explain to her parents why she wouldn’t be spending Christmas with them.

Telling them had been hard, but they’d understood her need to know where she came from. Love for the people who’d raised her filled her heart to overflowing. She thanked God for giving her Evangeline and Herbert Tully. They made plans to celebrate Christmas together after her return. Wanting to keep them from worrying, she refrained from telling them about the attempt on her life. And while she explained that her mother was deceased, she didn’t admit that Isabella had been murdered.

“You okay?”

She slanted a glance at Don. “Nervous.”

“Understandable.”

Don had researched the Maddox family beyond what she had been able to find. Apparently, Trent Associates had enough law enforcement connections to do some real digging. Caroline had been fascinated by what he’d told her of the family’s history…but she’d been very disturbed by what he’d learned about her mother’s death in New Orleans twenty-seven years ago. The case had never been solved. A ripple of unease cascaded over her at the thought of it.

Even if Caroline found answers to some of her questions, other questions would remain unanswered—like who killed her mother and why?

Don’s warm hand covered hers, comfort sweeping up her arm and chasing away her distress. She turned her hand and held on, needing his strength.

Not good. Not good at all. He was her pretend fiancé. They didn’t have to pretend when it was only the two of them alone. But she couldn’t bring herself to withdraw her hand.

Thirty minutes after touchdown they were on their way in a compact rental with a map of the area. The rental car agent had drawn out the quickest route from Jackson to the Maddox estate in Jefferson County in the middle of the Mississippi Valley.

Low, gray clouds had hovered menacingly when they started driving. Half an hour later, they opened up to a torrent of rain. The rhythmic swoosh of the wipers and the hum of the tires on the road were the only sounds as Don drove.

The rural landscape was vastly different from her beloved New England. Flat, green fields extended for acres on both sides of the highway, dotted by the occasional modest home, rusted car or abandoned farm equipment overgrown with weeds. It all looked so lonely and desolate.

Caroline consulted the map, then pointed to a sign that read Fayette Road. “It looks like we turn right up here.”

They left the main highway for a more rural road. Another turn put them on a narrow, unpaved road that ran along a creek. Tall pine and hardwoods provided some relief from the pelting rain but there was no respite from the hot, choking humidity, even with the air conditioning on. Her winter wool jacket wasn’t very practical for this climate. She hadn’t thought to check the weather or even bring an umbrella. Her mind had been focused on meeting her biological family and learning something—anything—about the woman who’d given birth to her.

“What in the world?”

Don’s mutter drew Caroline’s attention. His gaze was fixed on a truck bearing down on them at a rapid speed from the opposite direction. Don slowed and edged as close to the side of the roadway as possible. Trees and brush lined the road, their branches scratching the paint of the car. The truck mirrored their movement without slowing.

Gripping the door handle, Caroline tried to breathe past the knot of apprehension tightening her chest. The older model Ford truck seemed intent on playing some sort of game of chicken as it roared ever closer, directly in their path.

“Don?”

“Hang on!”

At the last second Don revved the motor and swerved to the other side of the road out of the path of the oncoming vehicle. The truck passed close to the passenger side in a rain-splashed whirl of color. Caroline couldn’t make out the driver’s face, only that he wore a baseball cap.

Don accelerated. Caroline twisted in her seat to stare after the truck until it roared out of sight.

“That was random, right?” She worked to calm her heart rate.

“Given someone stalked you, broke into your apartment, then bombed said apartment? No.”

Dread chilled her blood. “This incident can’t be related to… I mean, how would anyone know what kind of vehicle we rented and that we’d be on this road at this time?”

“I don’t know. But apparently someone is keeping tabs on your movements.” He slanted her a glance as the car slowed to a normal speed. “We could turn back and go home right now.”

She shook her head. “No. Whoever is after me clearly knows where to find me. Running won’t help. And it won’t give me any answers about my family.”

He gave a rueful shake of his head and resumed staring out the front window. Tension rolled off him in waves, making her taut nerves stretch tighter.

“The road leading to the Maddox estate shouldn’t be much farther,” she said.

At the five-mile mark, Don turned the car down a long graveled drive. Large trees lined the road, their spindly branches tangling together overhead to form a canopy. Soon the tree line ended, opening up to a flat lawn stretching on either side eventually leading to more trees.

A large, two-story, redbrick home with a white colonnade across the front came into view at the end of the drive.

Through the pouring rain, Caroline studied the structure.

At first glance it appeared majestic, as if they’d stumbled on an old pre-Civil War movie set. But soon she started noticing signs of decay and disrepair. They passed a shed that looked ready to crumble and a more modern detached garage big enough for at least three cars. It seemed more stable than the shed—but not by much. As they drew closer to the main house, she noticed the peeling paint on the columns, the brown and green moss creeping up the edges of the foundation. Several of the cracked blue window shutters hung off their hinges.

The old plantation home appeared uncared for, resembling something more fitting for a horrible B slasher movie than a wealthy Southern family at Christmas time. No festive decorations spruced up the place. No sign of celebration at all. A stark contrast to her parents’ home with twinkling lights, a glittering tree visible through the front bay window, and a nativity scene on the front lawn.

A shiver of disquiet skated across her flesh. Maybe she really had made a mistake in coming here. This felt all wrong—nothing at all as she’d imagined when she thought of coming here. Maybe she should have left well enough alone.

No. She squared her shoulders, determined not to back down now.

Don parked at the foot of a set of crooked stairs leading to the front entrance. “This isn’t exactly the prosperous Southern estate I expected.”

More misgivings stirred. “I don’t get it. Someone tried to kill me for this?”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“True.”

“Not too late to turn back.”

Keeping her gaze on the house, she shook her head. Now was not the time to lose her courage.

“Okay, then.” He shrugged into his water-resistant coat. “You ready?”

Not really. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Nervous tingles made her feel a bit queasy. Pushing her anxiety aside, she quickly buttoned her jacket to protect her blouse from the steady stream of rain.

Forcing herself to appear more confident than she felt, she nodded. “Yes. I need to do this.”

They exited the car and hustled up the stairs to the porch under the overhang. Humidity hung in the air, making her rethink the buttoning of her coat. Empty wooden rockers creaked in the blowing wind. The faint noise of dogs barking unchecked somewhere in the distance accentuated how different this country setting was from her life in Boston, where animal control would be called for such a racket.

She shook out her loose hair. Water dripped down the collar of her coat, the sensation causing a chill despite the mild temperature. She must have shuddered because Don stepped closer, his protection as enveloping and unspoken as the warmth radiating off him.

The wide, wooden front door swung open with a creak that gave her the same creepy feeling as if she were watching a horror movie and the unsuspecting hero and heroine were about to find themselves in peril. What utter nonsense! She gave herself a mental shake.

A tall, lean man stood on the threshold. He wore a sorely outdated dark suit and a white dress shirt that needed some bleach. His gray eyes studied Caroline as if she were a piece of artwork and he sought the flaw.

She smiled, though she felt more like squirming. “Hello. I’m Caroline Tully. You should be expecting me.”

Solemnly, the man nodded and stepped back. “Come in. I’m Horace,” the man said in a nasal drawl. His gaze flicked to the sky. “Nasty weather we’re having. The weatherman says the rain will continue on ’til New Year’s.”

Not sure what to do with that tidbit of information, Caroline stepped inside. Don kept his hand at her back, the pressure soothing.

“I’ll tell Mr. Maddox you’ve arrived,” Horace said with a deferential nod before quietly disappearing down the hall.

“Interesting place,” Don muttered.

Caroline nodded in agreement. “Most of the furniture looks like it’s been here since the house was built.”

Despite the graceful and refined lines of the Federal style furnishings, the pieces did little to impress or offer welcome. The rose-colored damask material covering the horseshoe-shaped seats on two fiddleback chairs had faded to a lackluster hue. Everything looked worn and threadbare, including a thick and tattered leather-bound Bible that sat on an oil varnished table. The gold lettering on the cover was nearly worn away.

A hutch loaded with dusty books sat against the wall beside an arched doorway. She noticed there were no signs of Christmas here, either, regardless of the presence of a Bible.

Not even a hint of the commercialism of the season, no mistletoe in the arched doorways, no tree, snowmen or Santas, even.

No nativity set commemorating the true meaning of the holiday.

The strange sensation of being watched raised the fine hairs at the nape of Caroline’s neck. She tensed and searched for the source.

Scarred hardwood floors stretched across the entryway and fed into a wide staircase with an ornately carved banister leading to the second story where two teens, a boy and a girl, waited at the top. Both had raven hair and light hazel eyes.

Caroline smiled a greeting. Neither teen smiled back.

Creeped-out, she glanced at Don. He’d been watching the teenagers, too. He met her gaze and shrugged.

The butler returned. The teenagers scurried out of sight. “Mr. Maddox will see you now.”

A flutter of nerves hit Caroline as they followed Horace up the stairs and down the hall to the other end of the second story. He opened a door and stepped aside.

The room was shrouded in shadows. The curtains were closed and only a small table lamp in the corner glowed near a full-size bed where a wizened old man lay. Thinning silver hair covered his head. He stared at her with bloodshot eyes and lifted a hand, beckoning them closer. “Isabella?”

Heart hammering in her chest, Caroline walked forward. She wasn’t sure what to say to this obviously ill man. Her grandfather. Compassion filled her, as it would for anyone brought low by sickness. She took his hand in hers. His skin had darkened on his arm and felt clammy, and the bones were so fragile. “No, I’m Caroline. And this is…my fiancé, Don.”

The old man seemed to shrink a little. “I’m sorry,” Elijah Maddox said in a raspy voice. “I shouldn’t have brought you here, child. It’s not safe.”

Stunned, Caroline glanced at Don. Good thing she had him to protect her.

A thundercloud of anger darkened Don’s expression. He stepped closer. “So you know someone has tried to kill her?”

Elijah’s eyes widened. “No!” He closed his eyes for a moment, a spasm of pain crossed his bony features. When he opened his eyes, real fear shone bright in the amber depths. He looked toward the door then back to Caroline. “Someone’s killing me!”

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.