Legacy of Lies

“Then we must hurry.” Hannah tugged Nicole to her feet. The woman was as strong as she was stout. “I need to see Simon’s reaction when he’s told his heir has been found. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

“Just a minute. I don’t understand.”

“You will soon enough.” Hannah hurried up the flag-stones toward the house. “Come along, dear.”

Nicole scurried to keep up. “I don’t know if I should. I mean, I’m not family.”

“Oh, pish. I’m family and I invited you. You’re entitled. After all, you found him.”

Joy pulsed from the woman as if Nicole had announced the child was about to be returned alive. Maybe Hannah’s muddled mind had misunderstood. But how could she?

When Nicole was a little girl, Grandma Jan had warned her about the people who lived in this house, and the warning had struck deep. Her grandmother wasn’t one to speak ill of others. Of course, everyone knew about Melody, the ice queen, and her prima-donna ways. But it wasn’t about her that Grandma had cautioned the most. It was Hannah. Grandma gave her orders to stay away from the woman in the funny clothes.

But Nicole hadn’t seen a thing to fear in the mixed-up woman—either now or the day she ran into her, literally. Twelve-year-old Nicole had been trotting along on a main street sidewalk eager to meet up with some friends, then boom! She came up short against a stout figure emerging from Darlene’s Beauty Shop. The scent of lilac enveloped her then as it had today, and she looked up into the dreaded woman’s face, steeled for a scolding. Only Hannah hadn’t said one harsh word. She’d asked who Nicole was and seemed pleased to meet the Kellers’ granddaughter. She’d smiled and dug in her purse then swished off up the street, leaving Nicole with a pair of wide eyes and a peppermint in her hand.

Ahead of Nicole, Hannah’s crinoline swished exactly the way it had twenty years ago, and the ’50s dancing slippers on her feet tapped the stones. She led the way up three steps, pulled open the door and motioned Nicole inside.

Nicole hesitated. She was about to enter the boogeyman’s lair. Not that a childhood ghost story had any hold on her now. Her fears had way more substance. What did her grandparents have to do with the missing heir of the town’s founding dynasty? Rich might not be happy to see her barging in, but anything she could find out about the investigation might help her discover the truth that would clear her family name.

Or not.

THREE

“I’d like to speak to Fern,” Rich said.

“Sorry.” Simon tapped his snifter. “My wife is indisposed and has gone to bed.”

“You don’t think she’d want to be informed of this development as soon as possible?”

Simon took a sip. “Giving birth to our son nearly killed her. After we lost him, she never got over it. Half a century has passed. I won’t rob her of sleep over news that can wait until tomorrow. Old scars are going to rip open. I want to be the one to break it to her.”

Rich studied Simon under lowered brows. Fine-sounding concern for his wife. Only Simon wasn’t known for patience with his sickly spouse. The man resumed his seat at the desk and leaned back in his chair, chin lifted. He’d never looked so arrogant…or so closemouthed. Too bad Rich couldn’t have videotaped this proceeding for later review. Something stunk around here, but smell wouldn’t show up on camera, only in a cop’s nose.

“I was hoping she might know something to help with the identification.”

Simon shrugged. “Another day.”

Rich made a note in his book. “How about Hannah?”

Simon’s eyes widened. “What about her?”

“She lived here at the time of the kidnapping, she might remember something useful.”

The other man barked a laugh. “Are we talking about the same woman?”

Rich pressed his lips together. Yes, Hannah lived somewhere in the last century, but she wasn’t an idiot. “What could it hurt if I asked her?”

The study door burst open, and a plump figure in an old-fashioned dress swept inside, followed by a more hesitant slender woman in jeans. Rich’s eyes narrowed. Hannah he might have expected, but what was Nicole doing here? She cast him a sidelong glance, and then her gaze moved from Simon to Hannah and back again. Rich followed her look. She was a good observer. The patriarch’s face had darkened nearly to the color of his beverage, while Hannah appeared to be walking on air.

Simon rose, chest inflated. “I’ve warned you about barging into my study uninvited.”

The light on Hannah’s face dimmed. “I had to come because of the news. Dearest Nicole has found our Sammy.”

Rich stifled a sigh. Nicole had spilled the beans. But why was she here in the first place? His gaze rested on her.

She shifted from one foot to the other. “I was driving around…thinking. And I saw Hannah sitting in the garden. She looked—”

“Like I needed help.” Hannah finished for her with a bright chortle. “Wasn’t that sweet?” She scurried over to Simon’s desk. “Isn’t it wonderful about little Sammy?”

Simon scowled. “Wonderful that a baby’s bones have been found? We don’t know that it’s Samuel, and if it is, he’s no less lost to us than the day he disappeared.”

“But—”

“Contain yourself.” Simon’s words came out a growl, and Hannah winced then sent a pleading look toward Nicole.

Rich made a mental note. The older woman had formed an instant bond with Nicole. Was it because she found Samuel’s remains or because she showed Hannah compassion by stopping to check on her?

Nicole stepped forward, her gaze on Simon. “I know this is terrible news and does nothing to restore your loss, but I don’t fault Hannah for being excited about the possibility of closure for your family. Your wife will likely feel the same way.” Her gaze slanted toward Rich and then darted away.

Smooth words from the heart of a peacemaker, but she could as well have added aloud, “As long as that closure doesn’t implicate my grandparents.” Rich’s gut clenched. Circumstances placed Frank and Jan at the top of the suspect list. There wasn’t enough hard evidence to make an arrest—yet—but the community was going to have a field day with speculations.

Rich poised his pen over his notebook. “As long as you’re here, Hannah, let me ask you a few questions.”

Simon subsided into his chair with a wave that absolved him of any connection with the discussion he considered a waste of time. Nicole’s posture stiffened.

Rich would just as soon she wasn’t privy to any more information than she needed to be, especially when the investigation involved her grandparents. “You should head home, Nicole. I’m sure your grandmother could use the company.”

Color rose in her cheeks, and her dark eyes snapped. “My grandmother has shut herself in her bedroom and won’t talk to me, so I’m not sure what you think I should be doing for her.”

Dismay sent a pang to Rich’s heart. “I wasn’t criticizing. I meant—”

“I won’t say a word without her here.” Hannah wound her arm through Nicole’s and clung, jaw jutting.

Nicole’s mouth fell open. It seemed Hannah’s fixation on her was as much a surprise to Nicole as anybody else.

“Very well.” Rich nodded. “Hannah, do you remember what Samuel was wearing when he disappeared?”

“When he was cruelly kidnapped from his own bed, don’t you mean?” Hannah’s gaze turned fierce. “He was in his fuzzy red sleeper with an adorable sheep embroidered on the right shoulder. It was fall, you know, and the air had a nip so we dressed him warmly.”

Rich wrote in his book. “And was anything taken with him?”

Hannah cocked her head then nodded. “We never did see his favorite toy again. The kidnappers must have bundled it off with him.”

“A toy?” Rich cocked a brow. “Can you describe it?”

“It was a blue-and-white rattle on a stick.” Hannah disengaged her arm from Nicole’s and made a shaking motion as if she held the toy. “Such a simple plaything made him laugh and coo. The sides were flat, so he liked to bite it while he teethed. Simon and Fern spent loads of money on fancy toys that squeaked or played music or danced or—”

“We get the idea, Hannah.” Simon’s tone dripped contempt. “Stop rambling and answer the police chief’s questions.”