Morgan waited, hoping she’d continue. It might be the only info he got on the old woman. Without thinking, he asked, “
Did
you blame her?”
She shot him a look. Anger, then guilt flitted through her eyes. “No, of course not.”
Judging from the expression on her face, and the fact she was biting her bottom lip, he figured she did blame her grandmother. At least to some degree. “Did you see much of your grandmother after that day?”
“What a stupid thing to ask! I told you she practically...she’d always been there for me. I loved her.” Sara’s voice cracked with the last words, and she hitched a breath. “About a month after Jason’s funeral, Nana had a stroke and I had to put her in a nursing home. She never recovered. I think it was her guilt over Kaycee. She just gave up.”
He suspected not only had Sara lost her child the day she buried her husband, she also developed a strained relationship with her grandmother. Probably the one person she’d always been able to depend on. Had there been other family members to fill the void? Or did Sara Adams find herself virtually alone? Wisely, this time, he held his tongue and waited her out, watching regret and eventually hopelessness play across her face. A clock down the hall chimed the half-hour.
“Have you ever lost someone close to you, Mr.—um, Morgan?” Her chin quivered, but she held his gaze.
“Yes.” A knot formed in his chest. He’d lost a lot during his lifetime, the most recent still tender—raw. If he’d been there when Andy had the heart attack, he could’ve called 911 and help might have arrived in time. Instead, when Andy had talked to Morgan earlier in the evening, he’d been on a stakeout, trying to catch a cheating wife in the act. Even though Andy told him something fishy was going on at The Adams Company and he needed Morgan’s input, Morgan had put him off until the next day, until he had his case wrapped up. Only the next day had been too late. Morgan had gotten his pictures, ensuring the all precious payment from his client…but he’d lost his best friend. Now he couldn’t forgive himself for not having Andy’s back. For not being there when it mattered most.
“They say time heals all wounds, but so far, I haven’t seen it. I was wondering if it was just me.”
He didn’t know how to respond.
“Do you ever get over it?
Have
you gotten over it?” She looked at him expectantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
A knife twisted in his gut. “No,” he dragged out between clenched teeth. With that simple reply, he’d given her a window into his psyche. He thought he’d nailed that sucker shut. Guess not.
She gave a brief nod, her features relaxing for the first time since he’d walked in the door.
Clearing his throat, he stood. “I need to get going. If you think of anything your grandmother said, or anything that seemed a little off—more than it already was—let me know.” He bent to pick up the soiled towels, bowl and first aid kit.
“I said I’d take care of everything tomorrow. But thank you.”
Unable to hold back an irritated sigh, he straightened, leaving everything on the floor. Why wouldn’t the woman accept help? Of any kind? “In that case, good night.” He moved toward the door.
“Wait. You never told me how you got in.” She struggled to her feet, flinched as she put weight on her legs, then straightened to her full height as she used the back of the chair he’d just vacated for support.
Morgan raised his eyebrows in question. “The door was unlocked.”
She tilted her head in confusion. “It couldn’t have been. It’s always locked with the alarm set.”
“Not tonight.”
Sara lowered herself to the arm of the chair as if she were unable to hold up her weight, her brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. Cat let herself out when she left earlier, but she’d never leave the door unlocked. And I checked it later to set the alarm.”
“Are you positive? You’ve had an upsetting day so maybe you just thought you did.”
Blinking, she chewed her lip again, apparently deep in thought.
“I—I think it was today. I could’ve sworn...”
She finally looked him square in the eye. “I’m sorry. I must have made a mistake. The only plausible explanation is I forgot to lock it.” Her voice sounded composed, even if her expression still looked doubtful.
“You sure?” The hairs on his neck stood up again. Living in this huge house all alone, he would almost bet the woman never left anything unlocked. Especially in the upscale neighborhood where thieves looked for every opportunity to break in, it was never safe to leave a door open. She appeared to be very meticulous regarding her house and everything in it. Including locking the doors. But he’d been wrong before, so he ignored the uneasy sensation.
“Yes. I’m just grateful you weren’t a burglar.”
If he had been, she wouldn’t have stood a chance. Especially not with just a letter opener. “Do you need to call someone to stay with you? Your friend, Ms. Walker?”
“No. I’m fine. Really,” she added. She took a step toward the library door in a silent invitation for him to leave.
What the hell. He had other things to check out. And he wouldn’t be getting any more information out of her tonight, anyway. “I’ll be in touch.” He headed out the door and strode quickly down the hall. When he heard her shuffling behind him, he stopped and waited for her to catch up, garnering a small smile of appreciation for his consideration.
At the front door, he took a quick look at it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and it didn’t appear as if it had been jimmied. He twisted the lock from inside while holding the door open, then tried the outside knob. The lock held. Sara stood nearby, watching him intently. Satisfied she’d be okay once he left, he faced her. “Make sure you set the alarm as soon as I leave.”
“I will.”
He hesitated a fraction of a second—why he wasn’t quite sure—before stepping outside. “Good night, Mrs. Adams.”
“It’s Sara, remember?”
“Sara.” He’d been calling her by her first name since he’d walked in the door. Why was he getting all formal now? Maybe to put a little professional distance between them.
“Thank you again for your help, Morgan.” Her tone was genuine as she flashed him a timid smile.
She
was genuine, or least she appeared to be. Another reason for him to keep his distance.
Yeah. Right
.
Taking another step back, placing himself well away from the house, he silently indicated for her to close the door. Only after he heard the deadbolt click into place did he turn to go.
What was he doing? He ran his fingers through his hair with quick, exasperated movements. He’d just met the woman and already was getting too emotionally involved. The feel of her skin, soft and warm, had images exploding in his head that had no business being there. For an instant, he wanted to turn, to see if she was watching from the window. Grinding his teeth, he refused to look, quickly backing out of the drive and heading down the street.
Sara Adams more than likely was involved in her husband’s death, as well as Andy’s. Now there was a baby in her husband’s grave. Whether she seemed genuine or not, he’d lay odds the baby was hers. Did she kill her own kid, then bury it there?
No. He would not get involved with the widow and could ignore his attraction to her.
He hoped.
****
Sara threw the deadbolt, took a deep breath, then entwined her fingers together to stop her hands from trembling. It’d been all she could do to hold it together until Morgan left. What was wrong with her? Had she been hallucinating when she’d seen Jason’s face in the window? It couldn’t possibly have been him. And no way could she have admitted to Morgan what she thought she saw. He’d think she was crazy. She gave an unladylike snort. Right now, she wasn’t too sure about that herself.
Double-checking the lock one more time and verifying the alarm was set, she slowly made her way through the house. One by one, she tested every window and door, ensuring each was securely locked. The sliced edges of her pants brushed against her legs with each painful step, a reminder of the earlier hallucination.
When she reached the study, she paused in the doorway. The room had always been a comfort to her, but now it unnerved her. Swallowing the unease, she marched into the room and checked the windows. Glass littered the desk and floor and the first aid supplies sat next to the couch, but she was in no mood to deal with it tonight. She’d take care of it tomorrow. In the daylight. Flipping off the light switch, she pulled the door closed behind her as she walked out. Only then did she relax.
In the kitchen, in lieu of her usual tea, she chose the special blend she’d received as a gift, needing the soothing mixture. She also opted for a mug, its weight as familiar and comforting as the beverage. Images of sharing a cup of coffee with Morgan earlier flashed across her mind. His size had made the kitchen seem much smaller. During all the years she’d been married, Jason had never made anything in the house seem small. In fact, Jason’s five-foot ten didn’t come close to Morgan’s six-foot plus frame. Nor had he been as well built.
She shook her head. Why was she comparing the two men? One was dead, while the other kept getting in her face, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. His presence, both earlier in the morning and this evening, unnerved her. She didn’t want to think about him, much less see him again. Yet, she had felt safe while he’d been there. The house had felt alive with him taking up all the space.
“Oh, quit it,” she muttered.
Giving in to her exhaustion, she slowly climbed the stairs to her bedroom. By this point, her knees were throbbing so she downed a couple of aspirin. After the day she’d had, she could have taken a sedative. The pills were in the cabinet, next to the aspirin bottle. She’d tried them once, but it had left her groggy and sluggish for two days. She didn’t know if it had to do with the strength of the medication or what. Maybe she should’ve gotten a milder dose. At any rate, it was irrelevant tonight. Plus, more than ever, she needed to stay focused. All she needed was the soothing tea to help her relax, and a good night’s rest. She’d get through the night.
Somehow.
Stripping out of her clothes, Sara tossed the shirt plus the shredded and blood-stained pants toward the wastebasket. She left them lying where they landed. For so many years she’d been the perfect wife, the perfect hostess, the perfect everything for Jason. No more. Today’s events tilted her world beyond anything that could still be classified as normal, and there was no going back.
Finding the remains of a baby in Jason’s grave had jolted her system and was now giving her a renewed energy, a new strength. Sara knew in her heart—all the way to her soul—Kaycee was still alive. The DNA results would prove the poor baby wasn’t hers. First thing in the morning, she would increase her efforts in finding her daughter.
It had been so long since she’d held Kaycee that Sara wondered if she’d even recognize her baby. As soon as the thought hit her, she sucked in a harsh breath. Of course she would. To not instinctively know her own child was unthinkable.
Changing into her faded, worn cotton PJs, she finally began to feel like her old self. The image she projected was a facade. The only reason she stayed in this house was because of Kaycee. Sara couldn’t imagine living anyplace her daughter hadn’t been. Not yet, anyway. This was as close as she could get to the child—to the memory. She’d never let that go. However, once she had Kaycee in her arms again, this place would be history.
The paramount question though, what was she going to do about the company? The
family
company. At the Board’s insistence, Jason’s cousin, Leo Martin, reluctantly took the helm, doing as well as could be expected after being suddenly thrust into the role. Although, his situation wasn’t any different than Jason’s.
When their grandfather had died, Jason had no choice but to take over. The will had specified exactly who would be in control upon his demise. Personally, she didn’t think either one of the cousins wanted the responsibility. Jason had stepped up to the plate and done quite well, having increased the net profits by a good margin. Now it was Leo’s turn. She hoped his tenure was longer than her husband’s had been.
Despite the turmoil during the last few months, Sara had still kept abreast of the business, still attended most of the Board meetings. Jason had held fifty-one percent of the stock, and now his stock belonged to her. She made a mental note to make a trip to the office soon to discuss possibilities with Leo.
Sliding between the cool sheets, she retrieved the tea from the nightstand as well as the novel she’d been reading. But the words on the page blurred, so she finally gave up and set it aside. She finished the tea, which was now almost cold and a little bitter, then set the mug on top of the book. She didn’t bother setting the alarm. She’d be awake at her usual time—dawn or before. Switching off the lamp, she rolled to face Jason’s side of the bed and drifted to sleep.
****
Sara stretched, pried her eyes open to look at the clock, then bolted upright.
Nine-twenty? It can’t be.
Panic gripped her. Eyes squeezed shut, she massaged her temples.
What’s happening to me? I’ve never slept in like this. Not even the day after I lost everyone.
Hands shaking, she looked at the window to confirm it was actually the next morning.
Last night—in the library—had to be a hallucination. There’s no other explanation.
She stood, took a moment to allow her sore knees time to adjust, then went to the bathroom. After she’d splashed cool water on her face and brushed her teeth, she moved back toward the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway. Something wasn’t right. For a moment she couldn’t place her finger on what it was exactly. She just knew things weren’t as they were supposed to be. Finally her gaze lingered on the nightstand and it dawned on her...the book wasn’t under the mug. She stared at the spot for a long moment, willing the book to magically reappear. It didn’t, of course. Heart racing, she tore her gaze away, moved into the room and began a methodical survey of the area.