The Secret Heiress. Terri Reed
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