convinced my father was innocent.”
Sam pressed his lips together as if she had just confirmed what he suspected. When he spoke, his voice was stern, almost condemning. “This is a quiet little place. Oh, we have crime, but nothing like murder, as a general rule. What happened hurt the town and I’d hate to see it all stirred up again.”
Macy bristled as if she was getting a little of her spunk back. “I believe it hurt my family more than it hurt the town. And if stirring things up again—as you put it—can clear my father’s name and bring my mother’s killer to justice, then that’s the way it has to be.”
“Your parents are both dead. Nothing you can do now will help them. But ripping this town apart over something that happened years ago can do a lot of damage. I won’t allow that to happen.”
She stood, apparently ready to leave whether he liked it or not. “I have no intention of damaging anything or anyone, but I will do everything in my power to find out what happened to my family and who was responsible. I’ll be living in my grandmother’s house until I learn the truth.”
Sam shoved his chair back and got to his feet. “You may be putting yourself in danger. Have you thought of that?”
“Of course I’ve thought about it, and since you’ve made it clear I can’t expect any help from the police, it looks like I’m on my own.”
She gripped the back of the chair. “Let me ask you something. You say someone is trying to break into my grandmother’s house. What do you think they hope to find? And what do you plan to do about it?”
She whirled and stalked out before he could answer, not even glancing at Nick to see how he took her confrontation with his boss.
He watched Macy stride from the room before glancing across the desk at Sam. “What was that all about?”
Sam shrugged. “That woman is trouble. The sooner she leaves town, the better.”
“If she owns a house in Walnut Grove, I’d say she has a right to be here.”
“She’s up to something and I don’t want this department mixed up in it. You stay away from everything connected to Macy Douglas if you know what’s good for you.”
He walked out of the office, leaving Nick to stare after him. He had to be kidding.
First Sam hinted the police might have been involved in something dirty back when Megan Douglas was murdered. Then he ordered him to just drop it, stay away from the woman who was stirring things up? Regardless of how Sam felt, Nick would keep an eye on Macy Douglas. Someone had to, and it looked like it was up to him.
Macy drove to the motel, paid her bill and loaded her suitcase in the car. The meeting with the attorney had just been more of the same behavior she’d experienced from Sam Halston—she needed to sell the house and leave town.
She’d learned a couple of things, though. Her grandmother hadn’t left her the house. Her parents had left it to her. Opal Lassiter moved into the house where her daughter had died when her own husband, distraught over Megan’s death, committed suicide and left her bankrupt. Apparently she’d done well because she’d left Macy a good-size sum of money. Something she could definitely use. According to the attorney Opal had worked in the bank, she’d moved up to a good position and she had been thrifty. She’d also been a quiet woman, keeping to herself a lot of the time. Church and friends had been her only social activities.
Raleigh Benson had given Macy all the keys to the house he had in his file. She already had one to the front door, but she didn’t want other keys out there for someone else to use. Another thing bothered her. Why would a grandmother who made no effort to stay in touch be so generous at her death? It didn’t make sense.
She reached the house without any trouble but found Nick Baldwin and his police car parked in her driveway. What was he doing here? Did he intend to stop her from moving in? There must be something in that house they didn’t want her to see. Well, she’d find it in spite of them. She might be outnumbered, but she wouldn’t give up without a fight.
Macy got out of the car and waited for Nick to join her. Had Sam sent him to check on her? She wouldn’t put it past him.
“What are you doing here?”
The smile stayed in place, but there was something watchful about his eyes. “I thought you might need some help moving in.”
“I don’t have all that much and I can manage just fine.” He had to have a reason for showing up at just the right time to help. No, not just showing up. He was waiting for her. Which made her a little uneasy, considering the way she’d already been treated that day.
He shrugged, still looking pleasant. “I thought you might feel more comfortable if you had someone with you when you went inside. I won’t get in your way, just be along to keep you company in case you need anything.”
And she was supposed to believe this? “Does Sam know you’re here?”
The grin faded, but if she’d struck a nerve it didn’t show. He shook his head. “No, this is something I’m doing on my own. I just thought it might help if you didn’t have to do this alone.”
Okay, she hated to admit it, and wasn’t going to admit it to him, but she had been dreading going inside again. Afraid of what she might find or how she would feel. It would be easier to have someone with her, and it was nice of him to think of it—if he was telling the truth. And if he wasn’t, she’d deal with it later.
Right now she felt better just to have him standing beside her, strong and dependable. Macy shook her head. Dependable? What was she thinking? She didn’t know him well enough to be sure of that. She held up the key ring, steeling herself to face the inevitable. “All right, let’s go.”
The storm had left a scattering of budding leaves and broken twigs covering the walk. They crunched underfoot as she strode toward the house, hearing him stepping along behind her. Seen in daylight, the house was still imposing. Two stories high plus an attic, cream-colored with light blue and beige trim, a wide porch and a corner turret, classic Queen Anne. Beautiful, but not exactly cozy. Scary might be a better word. She swallowed the lump in her throat and fumbled with the key ring the lawyer had given her.
Nick reached over and took it from her. “I’d guess this is the one you need.” He inserted it in the lock.
Macy motioned for him to go first, not sure she was ready. She followed, nerves prickling. The entry hall had a hardwood floor and a long mahogany table against one wall, with a wide gold-framed mirror hanging behind it, elegant, but cold. Macy walked slowly through to enter the living room. It looked different in the daylight.
Gold brocade armchairs with high backs flanked the fireplace. A crystal chandelier with a cluster of white candle-like lights hung overhead. An alcove held a matching gold sofa with a scattering of ivory and darker gold pillows. The air smelled musty, as if the house hadn’t been aired for some time. Judging from the muted rumble of the furnace, the heat was still on.
The furniture wasn’t new, so she assumed it had been here when her parents were alive. At least she hoped it had. Maybe it would jog her memory in some way. She moved farther
