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.
