Deadly Inheritance: A Romantic Suspense (4 page)

“Done.” He glanced around and made a sharp, sudden turn off the main road onto a narrow, rutted lane.

Huge, nearly horizontal limbs of
Quercus virginiana,
Southern live oaks, hung over the road. Gray swags of Spanish moss turned the sunny autumn day into dappled shade. In the humid heat of summer, the shadowy coolness might have been welcomed, but now, it reminded her that winter was near with a bone-penetrating chill that even the crystalline sunshine couldn’t banish. Shivering, Nora zipped up her fleece jacket, grateful when Gabe flipped on the heater and a burst of warm air, smelling of hot metal and oil, caressed her cheeks.

It had been easy at home to brush off the threat in the letter she’d received. However, as the road wound between the ancient, twisted oak trees, a more insistent, insidious anxiety trailed icy fingers down the back of her neck.

Was the money really worth it?

Yes
. She only had to stay at Autumn Hill for two weeks, fifteen hours out of every twenty-four. And there would be others there. She wasn’t going to be alone. She cast an uneasy glance at Gabe’s calm profile. The ghost of a smile still compressed the corners of his mouth.

Just two weeks. Then she might have enough to get the no-kill shelter off the ground. They could finally move the cats and dogs out of their current cramped quarters and into a spacious shelter. They’d have room to thrive.

That is, if she survived.

No
. There was no reason to think she might die. A slashed tire and a few notes didn’t mean a homicidal maniac had targeted her. She could handle this.

Even as she tried to convince herself, Gabe turned down an even narrower gravel road. Low-hanging branches and tangled, thorny bushes scraped the sides of their vehicle with shrill squeals, as if screaming at them to turn back. Before she could do more than lean forward to stare out the windshield, a huge, rambling brick structure rose up in front of them.

The façade looked like a standard, three-story colonial house, except that someone had tacked on a pair of two-story wings on either side of the main house. The lower additions made the main building appear to tower over the driveway like an anvil about to fall on them. As she stared at the central portion, the house leaned toward her with a malignant, hypnotic effect, threatening to crush her under its terrible weight. Brick upon brick—the dusty smell of the crumbling mortar choked her. Nora gripped the armrests and pressed herself back into the seat.

No—how can we live here?
No one can live here.
She wanted to run, to hide from the looming house. The place reeked of fear and death.

She took a deep breath.
Calm down
. It’s just a house. Her heart thudded within the narrow confines of her ribcage. Her fingers ached until she forced herself to release the armrests. Suddenly, she was glad, very glad, that Gabe was with her. She couldn’t have gone in there alone and walked through that front door, felt it shut behind her and lock.

Never
.

When she forced herself to examine it calmly, rationally, she noticed two, huge chains. The gray links came out a few feet above the wide, double door and stretched down to twin cement posts sunk into the ground several yards away.

A drawbridge. The two chains were fastened to a drawbridge that had been let down over a deep, murky pit. A wide moat encircled the entire house, disappearing from view around the wings. While the water might have leant a romantic air to the sprawling house, to Nora, it looked like a too-tight girdle squeezing the air out of the house and keeping everyone locked inside.

“You ready?” Gabe asked cheerfully as he turned off the engine and opened his door. “This is quite the castle. Have you been here before?”

“No. Never,” she croaked through a dry throat. She hated the place on sight.

There was no way they’d be able to use this place in any way, shape, or form for an extension to the animal shelter. No animal—or human—would want to stay here. It was impossible.

No wonder the assistants who’d scouted the place thought she was nuts to even suggest it. She could understand now why they were willing to believe there was something wrong with the house, that it was haunted.

If there was one building on earth that could make her believe in ghosts, this was that house.

But there was the money.
Think of the money
. No more putting animals down because their week was over. No more watching their trusting brown eyes glaze over as they died because no one wanted them. They could build room to house all of them by expanding the current facility.

And they could raze this place to the ground, fill in that terrible moat, and build something else, something healthier. Cheerful. She straightened her shoulders and moved closer to Gabe.

He grinned as he dragged her roller bag out of the back of his vehicle. “You didn’t pack much.”

“It’s only two weeks, and I’m sure they have laundry facilities.”

He dug around for a minute and pulled out several black leather bags—why was she surprised at his choice of bags?—and his grin widened as he studied the house.

“Kind of quaint.” One dark brow soared in an amused challenge to her. “Makes you feel right at home.”

“Maybe. If you’re a ghoul.”

He laughed and walked up to the wooden drawbridge as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The wheels of Nora’s bag wobbled over the sandy path as she followed reluctantly.

A glance over the side at the moat made her stomach churn.

Ten feet below, black water glistened between scummy patches of filamentous green algae. The grainy concrete sides of the moat rose up in sheer walls that offered no handholds if you were unlucky enough to fall into the dark water. Nora shivered again. How many poor animals had fallen in and unable to climb out, grew exhausted and drowned in that horrible pit? Even the air above the depths smelled of decay and rotting vegetation.

A flash of sunlight shimmered over an oily patch of black water. She gazed into it, leaning forward, the rank, musty odor making her dizzy.

“Watch it.” Gabe gripped her arm and drew her back a step. “Nasty.”

“Yes.” She leaned against him briefly, her left hand seeking his. When his warm fingers gripped hers, she steadied. “Thanks.” With a small smile, she withdrew her hand.

“I’ll go first.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back far enough to step onto the drawbridge ahead of him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not helpless.” She bit back the childish phrase,
you can’t tell me what to do
.

The roller bag clicked and clattered over the rough wooden planks, jerking in her hand as she pulled it after her. Midway across, the wheels caught between two planks. The handle jolted out of her grip. A flicker of white at one of the windows above her caught her attention. She stared at it before turning and taking a step back to release her bag. Another step and…

Crack
. Her feet stumbled onto…nothing.

She flailed her arms wildly, trying to regain her balance. Her stomach lurched, hitting the back of her throat. She was falling! Her fingers raked the whispering air. There was nothing to hold on to—no way to save herself.

Oh, my God—it’s the house!
A whimper rose into a scream as her feet hit the reeking black surface below.

Behind her, the clanking, rattling sound of the heavy chain, torn loose from its moorings, chased her into the depths of the cement pit.

Freezing water rushed over her face and head. Her body clenched, her heart contracting painfully. A spasm went through her, trying to force her mouth open, to breathe against the shock and pressure of the freezing water. She clenched her jaw and sealed her lips. The icy depths pulled at her, filling her ears and clothes, tightening its painful grip around her chest.

The chain!
She tore through the water, kicking upward and away. The falling chain would drag her to the bottom. Or the thick links would kill her outright. The water surged, and she could almost feel the weight of it rushing toward her. She had to move, to get away.

Her lungs screamed, and she kicked, her hiking boots heavy with water, dragging her down. A sudden wave hit her. Something hard raked her leg and caught at her boot. She cupped her hands in a last effort to escape and thrust upward.

Air!
Her face broke through the surface. She gasped and sputtered. Thick, slippery strands of algae clung to her eyes and hair. The terrible stench of rot made her gag.

“Nora!”

A mixture of voices called to her from above. Part of her mind heard them, distant and remote. Unimportant in the face of her need to breathe and keep her mouth above the rippling surface of the stinking water.

The thick miasma rising from the mats of filmy algae and black water filled her nose and lungs. Light-headed, she coughed and paddled. Foul liquid splashed over her chin and nose. Her sodden clothes weighted her down. Her muscles burned as she kicked and tried to stay on the surface.

A pitfall—trap. There was no place to grab hold or find safety. Desperation cramped her chest. She gasped again, her arms churning the water more desperately, the babble of words above her as irritating as the clouds of biting gnats nipping at her eyelids and slipping into her sodden hair.

Think
!

She scraped the slime away from her eyes. A few feet away, the chain hung down against the concrete wall, the end submerged in the rippling black water. She kicked and splashed over to it and hooked her stiff, icy fingers through one of the links.

She’d climbed ropes years ago in physical education class. She could do this, she could climb out. A flush of warm hope eased through the painful band of tension cramping her chest. But her arms ached and the muscles shook as she hung on to the slippery, cold links. Shock and exhaustion. She didn’t have much time.

She had to save herself.

She tightened her grip and kicked around until she felt the thick rings hit her boots.

Inch by inch, she pulled herself up, aware of an increasing chill as the autumn air seeped through her drenched clothing. Another inch, then another foot. Her muscles shook uncontrollable. The top of the moat came into view. Exhausted, she paused to take a deep breath, preparing to crawl over the smooth edge that lacked any handholds.

With a final surge, she pulled herself up. Miraculously, an arm appeared above her, gripped the back of her fleece jacket and yanked her onto the ground. She gasped and rolled over to lie on her back, staring up at the clear blue sky as she coughed and tried to catch her breath.

“Nora!” Gabe’s insistent voice roused her. He shook her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and rolled over onto her knees.

“Why didn’t you let me go first?” Gabe helped her to stand.

She shivered in the cool air and wrapped her arms around herself. Why was he mad at her? She was the one who’d almost been killed while he stood around, gaping. Tears burned her eyes and she gagged, exhausted and sick.

“You hired me to protect you,” he continued in a hard voice. “What’s the point if you don’t do what I say?”

“I don’t need someone telling me what to do,” she managed to say.

“Do you realize you could have been killed?” He gripped her arms and gave her a shake. “You may be independent, but you’ve got to listen to me or there’s no point in this.”

“Then maybe there’s no point,” she whispered miserably.

Couldn’t he see she was freezing, that she needed to get inside, to get warm and clean? She shivered in the cool air and stared at the house, loathing it.

That evil house
.

Her jaws ached from her chattering teeth. Despite her fear, she wanted to get inside. But they were on the wrong side of the moat. A yawning gap of at least five feet in the drawbridge left her staring at the open front door of Autumn Hill, unable to reach it. Her bag, wheels still stuck between two rough planks, stood at the very edge of the chasm.

“Never mind.” The hard edge of his voice softened.

“What?” She was too tired to think of a snappy reply.

“Stay where you are.” Gabe backed up a step.

“Why? What are you going to do?” she replied sharply.

Her hands fluttered in front of her, needing to brush the slime off, but not actually wanting to touch the filthy, clinging strands. The acrid stench of moist decay emanated from her clothes and hair. As the shock wore away, she grew more wretched. Her fall had plunged her into a stew of pathogenic microorganisms that were now squirming over every inch of her. Protozoa, parasites, bacteria…thousands of the tiny, wriggling parasites that inhabited stagnant water and could produce everything from diarrhea to typhoid fever. Or death.

She might as well have added a spoonful of arsenic to her coffee that morning. She shivered more violently, desperate to reach a shower and get clean. Water clogged her ears, and she tilted her head to clear the ear canals.
Otitis
externa
—an ear infection—seemed inevitable. Years of vet school produced horrendous visions parasitic infections.