Dangerous Inheritance

SHADOWS OF THE PAST

Though Macy Douglas remembers nothing from the night of her mother’s murder, she’s determined to prove her father’s innocence in the crime. But she soon finds that returning to her childhood home and digging up her family’s past is a surefire way to attract enemies—and a killer that’s still at large. Now only handsome local cop Nick Baldwin can safeguard her—even if that means disobeying direct orders and risking his job. His boss might not think Macy’s in harm’s way, but Nick’s suspicions are soon confirmed when an assailant breaks into her house. Nick tries to trigger Macy’s memories for clues…but someone will do anything to ensure that the past remains forgotten.

“He said to get out while I could…if I wanted to live.”

Nick choked, sputtering his soft drink over the table. He grabbed a napkin to clean up the mess he’d made, stunned at what he’d heard. “He said what?”

Macy repeated the threat, looking lost, while Nick stared at her. What was going on here? Someone threatened to kill her if she stayed in this house. So what was hidden here that someone wanted bad enough to pull something like this? Or was it someone who wanted 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 out 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 this situation turned deadly.

BARBARA WARREN started making up stories when she was young. When she grew older, she began working on her dream of becoming a real writer. Now writing is an important part of her life and she tries to make time for it almost every day. Barbara lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband. You can learn more about her at her website, barbarawarrenbluemountainedit.com, or on Facebook.

Dangerous Inheritance

Barbara Warren

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Though I walk in the midst of trouble,

Thou wilt revive me: Thou shalt stretch forth Thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies,

and Thy right hand shall save me.

—Psalms 138:7

Dedicated to Mary Lowe, Carol Parscale, Randi Perry, Ronica Stramel and Alice Leverich, my critique group, and to my agent, Terry Burns, who works so hard for me. And a special thank-you to Tina James and Emily Krupin at Love Inspired Suspense for being so helpful and so easy to work with. I appreciate you very much.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Praise

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

A car drove by and turned the corner, but Macy Douglas ignored it. All her attention was centered on her grandmother Lassiter’s house—the house where her mother had been brutally murdered—the house where her father had been arrested as the killer. The house she couldn’t remember, even though she had apparently lived here the first seven years of her life. Dark and forbidding, and at least two stories tall, it sat back from the street on a large lot. She hadn’t realized the house would be this big—or this intimidating.

Lightning flared. A gust of wind rattled the branches overhead like dry bones. She shot a glance upward before giving herself a mental shake. Enough of this. She had to stop being such a coward. It was just a house, the house a grandmother she couldn’t remember had left to her.

It was hers...and she didn’t want it.

Didn’t want the secrets hiding behind that innocent-looking facade. Secrets better left dormant behind the barrier her mind had erected, protecting her from the horror of that night.

She stared up at the rounded turret of the old Queen Anne house. What had really happened here? In spite of her resolve to learn the truth, did she really want to know? Would the knowledge destroy all she wanted to believe about her father?

When Grandmother Douglas lay dying she had gasped out “the box.” When Macy found the metal box with information about her father’s death in prison, there had also been a letter telling her not to come here, that it would be dangerous. But she had come because she needed to know the truth about her family—the truth about what had happened in this house.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the wide porch and the front of the house. Thunder grumbled overhead.

Macy climbed the steps and inserted the key her grandmother Lassiter’s lawyer had sent her. The door swung open, silent as a shadow. She caught her breath, listening, but the low growl of thunder and the wind whipping the tree limbs were the only sounds. She fumbled for the light switch.

A chandelier sprang to life and she had a fleeting impression of a mahogany table, the glint of a gold framed mirror, before a jagged spear of lightning split the sky.

Thunder exploded.

The lights went out!

Darkness closed around her, the silence like a heavy blanket. Macy glanced behind her. The streetlight on the corner shed a circle of dull light, but all the houses in the area were dark. The lightning must have done major damage. She turned back to face the house, fumbling in her pocket for the penlight she carried. Her fingers closed around the smooth cylinder. The tiny light barely dented the darkness. A staircase rose on the left, disappearing into the ebony depths of the upper regions.

A door beckoned, and Macy crept toward it. She caught a glimpse of old-fashioned chairs and a fireplace.

A slight movement at the window suddenly caught her attention. A pale oval pressed against the glass—someone was peering in.

Watching her.

Macy whirled, running to the door. She plunged down the porch steps and strode around the house, swinging the penlight from side to side. Right there. That’s where the sneak had to have been standing. So where was he now?

Then strong arms clamped around her, yanking her back in a tight embrace. Macy dropped the penlight. A scream ripped from her throat as she clawed at the arms encircling her, trying to break loose.

* * *

Nick Baldwin grunted and caught the intruder’s shoulders, swinging the guy around. The stranger’s ball cap fell off and long copper-colored hair swung down, swirling in the wind. Nick revised his impression in a hurry. This was no man.

It was a woman! A very angry woman determined to break his hold, and he had his hands full trying to stop her.

“Let go of me.” She twisted her body, trying to wrench loose.

His grip tightened. “Whoa! Take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He propelled her toward the front porch and jerked out his cell phone. “Sit down on that step so I can keep an eye on you.”

She sat, glaring up at him, and he had the impression she was braced to jump and run. A jagged flash of lightning slashed the sky, followed by a cannon blast of thunder. The storm was moving closer.

He ended the call and stood in front of her, firm and unyielding. “You just sit there for a few minutes. I’ve got someone coming to help straighten this out.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You can’t handle one woman by yourself?”

Amused by her question, he chuckled, breaking the tension. There was laughter in his voice when he spoke. “I don’t think that’s the problem. I’m Nick Baldwin, a police officer here in Walnut Grove. And right now—like it or not—I’m in charge. You just sit there for the time being and we’ll try to get everything worked out before the storm hits.”

A sprinkle of raindrops greeted his words, and the woman glanced at the sky, looking startled. He hoped it wouldn’t start pouring, but if it did, they could move to the wide front porch.

He stood before her, relaxed, but blocking her from leaving. Nick was aware that with his back to the street his face was hidden in the shadows, so she would have no idea what he looked like. But the dim glow from the streetlight had to show her he was in uniform. A policeman.

She stared up at him. “Why were you looking in the window?”

“I saw a light moving around in the house and then you came barreling out. I’ve got some questions for you, but they can wait for a few minutes.”

A police car pulled into the driveway and parked behind her Chevy. Sam Halston got out and left the motor running and the lights on, illuminating the scene.

“Hey, Nick. What’ve we got here?”

Nick turned to face him. “I saw something like a flashlight in a house that’s supposed to be locked and unoccupied, and then she came rushing out the door and down the steps like something was chasing her. Thought it might be a good idea to check her out. I’d be interested in learning how she got inside and what she was doing there.”

Sam approached. “Okay, let’s see what’s going on. You got any identification?”

The woman switched her attention to him, but she didn’t look any friendlier. “It’s in the car. If you can call off your watchdog, I’ll go get it.”

“Well, now, I think it might be better if Nick escorted you. We can’t take a chance on you hopping in and driving off, now can we?”

She didn’t answer, but she got to her feet and marched down the drive. Nick followed her, watching as she reached inside the car and retrieved her purse. She took out her driver’s license and handed it to him, but he could tell from her expression she was ticked off.

He tilted the license to the light, then glanced in her direction. “Macy Douglas. You’re not from here, so what are you doing in Opal Lassiter’s house?”

“She was my grandmother.”

Sam stepped forward. “Let me see that.”

He took her license from Nick. “So, you’re Steve Douglas’s daughter. I heard you might be coming to town. How long are you here for?”

“I have no idea. Does it matter?” A gust of wind lashed the branches of the trees and whipped her long copper-colored hair into her eyes. She sent a quick glance overhead at the approaching storm.

He handed back the license. “I’m Sam Halston, chief of police in Walnut Grove.”

Nick glanced at him through narrowed eyes. So Sam was familiar with her name. And how had he heard she might be coming to town? It was time he took part in the conversation. “We’ve had a problem with attempted break-ins at this house recently. So far, whoever it was got scared off before getting in, and the neighborhood watch in this area is used to being on guard. They kept an eye on Opal while she lived here.”

“Are you saying someone reported me when I drove in? How did you get here so fast? I’d only been in the house for a few minutes before you showed up.”

He could hear the suspicion in her voice. Well, that worked both ways. He was a little suspicious himself and he hadn’t learned yet why she was in the house. “I’ve made a habit of driving by and keeping an eye on things, and it’s a small town. It doesn’t take long to get to any part of it. But none of this answers the most important question. Why are you here at this time of the night?”

She hesitated, and he waited, his eyes holding hers. Finally she sighed and started talking. “This house is a piece of my family history, and I was curious about it. I suppose I could have waited until morning, but I wanted to find it and see what it looked like.”

“You lived here when you were young,” Sam said. “You ought to have some memories of it.”

“I was seven years old when I left, and no, I don’t remember much.” She slid her license into her wallet and closed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. “May I go now?”

“That depends,” Sam said, sounding reluctant. “Where are you going?”

“To a motel, I guess. If there’s one in town that still has lights.”

“There’s a good one on the highway, and the outage is just on this side of town. It’ll probably be off for several hours. Nick’ll show you how to find the motel, and I want to have a talk with you in the morning.”

Macy shook her head. “I have a nine o’clock appointment with Raleigh Benson, my grandmother’s lawyer.”

“Make it eight, then. Nick will give you directions.” He turned and walked away. A handful of raindrops splattered around them and Nick motioned toward her car.

“We’d better get. It’s going to start pouring in a few minutes. I’m parked just around the corner. Follow me, and I’ll show you the way to the motel.”

“First I have to lock the house.”

They hurried back to the porch and he waited while she climbed the steps, checked the light switch and locked the door before jogging over to their separate cars.

Nick walked around the corner to his car and drove back to the driveway, pulling in front of Macy to lead the way. He watched in his rearview mirror, making sure she followed him. She hadn’t been all that cooperative, and he wouldn’t put it past her to speed off in the other direction.

Of course, the way he’d surprised her might have something to do with how she’d acted. The minute he’d felt the softness of her shoulders, seen the glimmer of that long hair flashing across her face, he knew he’d messed up. Even in the pale glow of the streetlight, that copper-colored hair held a fire of its own. A man could warm his hands by it.

Since she was from out of town the possibilities of her being their mystery burglar were practically nonexistent. But why didn’t she remember living here? After all, she’d spent a few years in this house. She should remember something. But what was she doing here, alone, at this time of night? Her explanation had been lame, to put it mildly. And what was she doing inside the house?

Macy Douglas still had some explaining to do.

Macy followed him into the parking lot of a Motel 6, the windshield wipers slapping at a barrage of raindrops. Nick got out and hurried toward her car, shoulders hunched and head ducked against the wind. She rolled down the window and he stuck his head inside, the rain pelting his shoulders.

She stared at him, looking startled as their eyes met—and held. His heartbeat kicked up a notch. A reaction he hadn’t expected and definitely didn’t want. Macy leaned back as if trying to put a little distance between them. Maybe he needed to try that, too. Regardless of how lovely she was, he didn’t need any more complications in his life.

She seemed almost as surprised as he was. After a split-second hesitation, he said, “You’ll be all right here. I’ll drop by in the morning and show you the way to the police station. Be ready about seven thirty and we’ll pick up a bite to eat first. There’s a restaurant in town that puts out a good breakfast.”

“That will be fine, I guess,” she muttered.

He nodded and stepped back. “I’ll go with you to check in and get your room number.”

They hurried toward the office, Nick striding along with her. She probably didn’t want to check in with a policeman standing beside her. He could understand that. It wasn’t the best way to make a good impression.

The motel clerk eyed them curiously, but he assigned her a room and handed her a key. Nick lifted her suitcase out of the car. A curtain of rain danced on the pavement and bounced off the motel roof, soaking them both. She unlocked the door and turned to face him. Crystal raindrops glistened in her hair, and those sea-green eyes fringed with thick dark lashes seemed to warm for a moment.

She smiled suddenly and his heartbeat kicked up another notch. “Thank you for showing me the way to the motel. I’d probably still be driving around, lost in a strange town. Now you’d better get in out of the rain.”

He nodded and handed her a card. “You need anything, call me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He noticed she watched him run back to his patrol car before going inside and locking the door.

Nick drove away from the motel thinking about Macy Douglas. The sudden flare of attraction he’d felt that moment in the motel parking lot had surprised him, but he couldn’t deny there had been a spark between them. The way she had stood up to him and to Sam, not giving an inch, was impressive. He’d give her one thing, she was a fighter. And she had the kind of beauty that would be hard for any man to resist.

He’d known her grandmother Lassiter, and everyone in town knew about the brutal murder of Opal’s daughter, Megan Douglas, and that Steve, Megan’s husband, had been convicted of killing her and had died in prison. It was part of the town’s history. A part most of them would just as soon forget.

He drew up to a stoplight, his thoughts still on Macy. Opal had led a quiet life, not getting involved in community affairs, but he had a hunch her granddaughter would be different. Yet he sensed vulnerability behind that feisty behavior, as if she were afraid of something. Maybe he could find out more tomorrow at breakfast.

Nick hurried home to change into dry clothes and then drove to the police station. Sam greeted him as he entered. “You get the Douglas woman settled all right?”

“She’s at Motel 6. Or at least that’s where I left her. Why? What’s up?”

“I’m wondering why she came to town, and why now. She hasn’t been back since she was a kid, and I’ve got a hunch she’s up to something. You’re too young to remember what it was like when Megan Douglas was killed. She was well liked, went to church, owned and ran her own business. Steve was something else.”

“How so?”

Sam leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable. “Steve had a favorite in the state senate race, and it wasn’t our Garth Nixon. Steve went all out, using his newspaper to influence the voters in this area. Pretty much divided the town—even divided the whole district. Cost Garth the election. I’d hate to see it all stirred up again. You never know how people will react, and if she’s anything like her dad, things could get out of hand.”

“What does that have to do with his wife’s death?”

“The police chief was Garth’s cousin. When Steve was arrested, some people figured it was payback time, like maybe the police didn’t try hard enough to find the real killer.”

Nick stared at Sam, thinking about what he had just said. The police had been accused of playing dirty? His father had been a cop back then. No way would his dad have been a part of anything like that—not the man he remembered and had looked up to. “You can’t be serious. My dad was an honest cop. He’d have quit before he stood by and let someone pull something wrong. You know better than that.”

Sam shrugged. “I’m guessing there could have been some dirty work going on. There’s always that possibility. And no, I don’t think your dad would have taken part, but he might not have known about it. I don’t know all that much about what went on, and at the time it wasn’t any of my business, so I really didn’t care all that much.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “That was what, twelve or thirteen years ago?”

“More like seventeen, I believe. Macy was just a kid. He knocked her out, almost killed her. And that was another problem. Regardless of Steve’s politics, a lot of people had trouble believing he’d kill his wife or hurt his own kid. He was crazy about that girl.”

Nick remembered the way Macy Douglas had stared at the old house. Something had brought her to Walnut Grove and he had a feeling it was rooted in the past.

“If he was innocent, that means there might still be a killer out there who doesn’t want to get caught.”

TWO

Morning light filtered through the blinds as Macy glanced around the motel room. This wasn’t turning out to be a great day. First she needed to get through the meeting with Sam Halston. Then she had the meeting with the lawyer, another thing she wasn’t looking forward to. According to him, her grandmother Lassiter had been dead for several months, but he’d had to close out the estate and then it took a while to locate her. And then after seeing the lawyer she would move into her grandmother’s house. She had no idea what she was getting into, but there were only two options: carry this through or turn tail and run.

She had no place to run.

When Grandma Mattie had been battling the cancer that had finally killed her, Macy had to take several days off work at Wesley Manufacturing, which hadn’t sat well with her supervisor, Lena Hankins, a cold, play-it-by-the-book woman who didn’t believe in second chances. Then when she had needed a few days to get her grandmother’s affairs in order Lena had given her a choice: forget it or quit.

Fresh from the funeral and still wounded by losing the only family member she had left, Macy had walked out. So here she was, no job, no family, no one who cared. She’d listed Grandma Mattie’s house for sale, but so far, no takers.

And eating breakfast with Nick Baldwin seemed way too intimate. What had she been thinking? A knock on the door sent her hurrying to open it. Nick stood there in his police uniform, the rising sun dusting his shoulders with gold. His smile was warm and welcoming. At this stage in her life, warm and welcoming was good. He was also six feet or more of muscle and charm. A deadly combination.

His dark hair was combed back, not rumpled as it had been in last night’s storm, and his golden-brown eyes were friendly as he stepped back to let her walk past. She accidently brushed against him, and quickly moved on, more aware of him than she liked. What was it about Nick Baldwin that affected her this way?

He smiled and her pulse rate accelerated. “I guess we’d better go in separate cars since you have an appointment with your lawyer right after you talk to Sam.”

The flare of disappointment caught her by surprise. After all, it wasn’t as if she wanted to spend more time with him—or did she?

And her lawyer? She’d never met Raleigh Benson. Would he be friendly to the granddaughter who had never seen or talked to Opal Lassiter, her maternal grandmother, in the past seventeen years? Or would he be one of the enemies her grandmother Douglas had warned her about in the letter Macy had found after her death?

Macy closed the door and locked it behind her, and they walked through the parking area. The April air smelled fresh and clean after the rain. A sprinkling of new leaves brightened the tall oaks, and sturdy green shoots of jonquils held a promise of golden blooms to come. Nick waved from his car and she followed, finding it hard to believe that she was actually looking forward to having breakfast with him.

Last night she had been ready to deck him. Had her feelings toward him changed that fast? Grandma Mattie had believed the police in Walnut Grove were corrupt. What about Nick? Could she trust him, or beneath that friendliness was he really her enemy?