straightforward things that weren’t straightforward at all that he’d started paying attention when she got the least bit uneasy.
“But something about all of this doesn’t add up for me.” She held up a hand to stop him before he could speak. “I don’t think William sees anything unusual except for the legal arrangement itself, which is apparently aboveboard, so don’t go thinking he’s keeping something from us.”
“It bothers me,” Carter agreed, “and I didn’t even know the man, except by rare sighting when we sneaked onto the property as kids. But if he married the woman for her money, then abandoned her kids when she died, I expect you wouldn’t get a good feeling about him.”
“Certainly not, but it’s more than that.” She reached over to place her hand on top of his. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Be more watchful than usual. That you won’t dismiss anything to do with that house or the girls as simple oddity or coincidence.”
He frowned. His mother’s concern for him and others was nothing new. She was a wonderful woman with a huge heart. The concern didn’t bother him at all.
But the fear in her voice did.
ALAINA TURNED HER SUV onto a narrow dirt road that seemed to lead directly into the swamp. The cypress trees were so thick overhead that they almost formed a canopy over the road, the moss clinging to the limbs blocking everything but the stray ray of sunshine from creeping through.
Her right front wheel sank into a huge dip and she pressed the gas to push the vehicle out of the hole. It’s a good thing I didn’t go for the convertible sports car. She wouldn’t have given a low-profile car a hundred yards on this road before it left the driver stranded.
She glanced down at the directions she’d received from the attorney, to double-check the accuracy, but she already knew she was on the right road. Details were her specialty and the attorney had given very descriptive instructions. She just needed to come to grips with the fact that it looked as if she was driving into the abyss.
She’d just turned seven years old when her mother passed and she’d gone to live with a distant cousin in Boston. The woman and her husband hadn’t been well-off, but they’d loved her and cared for her as they had their own son and daughter. But despite the fact that they’d all made her feel welcome and loved, she’d never felt as though Boston was home, not even when she was living in the college dorms.
All those years, it was as if Louisiana called to her, beckoning her to return home. She hadn’t taken that call to be literal, because she’d thought her childhood home to be something forever lost to her; and she had no interest at all in seeking out the man who’d treated her mother horribly, then split up her children, sending them to the far ends of the country to become someone else’s responsibility.
She’d thought going away to college would eliminate the draw. Once she was around like-minded peers and out of the environment where she was odd man out, she’d hoped she’d finally feel as if she belonged. But despite her contentment with school and a close group of friends, mental images of the swamp haunted her subconscious, finding their way into her dreams.
Her conscious mind wasn’t as clear on the details, so the dark patch of dirt now passing as a road didn’t appear familiar. She wondered if the house would.
It felt like an eternity that she inched her SUV down the makeshift trail. But finally, after easing her way around a sharp turn in the road, the house came into view, looming above her.
Involuntarily, she hit the brakes and stared, sucking in a breath. On a conscious level, it was as if she was seeing it for the first time. The dreary stone facade and sharp peaks of the roof didn’t register mentally, but her body responded. Her chest tightened and her pulse increased.
It scared her.
The thought ripped through her mind and she immediately chided herself. You’ve spent your entire life focused on the facts and what you could prove. Now you’re letting yourself lose it with fanciful thoughts. Get a grip.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. Then she opened her eyes and studied the house with the critical eye she used to study witnesses in a courtroom.
It was still gloomy with its broken shutters and paint peeling on the wooden eaves. The lawn—if one could even call it that—had been swallowed up by weeds and swamp grass that stood at least a foot high. Even the flower beds had been overrun, the stone edging barely visible behind the foliage. An enormous marble fountain that stood in the center of the circular drive had probably been beautiful at one time; but now it was covered with vines, its base filled with murky, stagnant water.
The attorney who’d explained the terms of the inheritance had called the estate “serviceable, if not pleasant.” Alaina decided he must be very good at his job. Legally, she couldn’t fault his description, but it left out so much.
It’s only two weeks.
Mr. Duhon had assured her that any repairs necessary to habitation would be handled by his firm, so it was merely a matter of picking up the phone if she found anything unlivable. A caretaker lived in a cottage somewhere on the property, but the attorney had warned her that the man was elderly and had not been allowed to hire help to keep up the property.
The results of yet another poor decision made by her stepfather spread out before her.
She pulled her SUV around the circular drive that had more weeds showing than the paved stones that comprised it, and parked as close as she could to the front doors. Dark clouds swirled overhead, and she worried that the storm that was scheduled to move in tonight might make an early appearance.
She’d packed only a single suitcase of personal items, but her laptop and food and living supplies took up another couple of boxes. With any luck, she’d get it all inside before the dam broke. Her suitcase had wheels, so she rolled it up the walkway and dragged it up the stone steps to the front door. She removed the enormous iron key from her purse and slid it into the lock, wondering if it would work in the rusted lock.
To her surprise, it turned easily, and a loud click echoed in the silent courtyard. She pushed the ten-foot wooden door open and stepped inside.
The entry resembled a museum more than a home. A huge, round open area stretched up two stories, a giant spiral staircase offering passage from the first floor to the balcony that circled above. Rooms and hallways branched off from the open area in every direction on both floors. Marble columns stood randomly throughout the downstairs area, vases and statues covered with thick layers of dust perching on top of them.
Okay, definitely kind of creepy.
That was her official legal opinion and the best prosecutor in the world couldn’t talk her out of it. Still, creepy was tolerable, especially with strong overhead lights. She reached for the switch plate behind her and the area surrounding the front door flooded with light.
She peered into the dim center of the enormous entry and frowned. Surely there was more lighting than this. Checking the wall behind her, she noticed another switch, this one lower on the wall than the light switch she’d flipped earlier. She reached over and pushed the remaining switch up.
The load groan and high-pitched squeals of machinery startled her and she stifled a scream as she scanned the room for the source of the noise. A sheet of light hit the floor in the entry and she looked up to see the roof sliding open. The flickering sun glinted off the glass ceiling the sliding panel
