Betrayed Birthright

Eagerness filled her voice. “Has he found any more information on the occurrences in North Carolina?”

“Not exactly.”

“What, exactly, did he say?” Exasperation replaced her enthusiasm.

“He hasn’t found any new information on your case, but he did bring your husband’s death into question.”

“What?” Genuine bewilderment came off her in waves.

Noah didn’t think she could fake that. “During the investigation, Sheriff Brady didn’t come across one person in your life who came under suspicion. Because of that, he expanded his investigation and discovered your husband had a rather large insurance policy.”

Silence filled the car. Noah took his eyes off the road for an instant and glanced at Abby. Her face had turned an alarming shade of red and she looked ready to explode. Easing the car to the side of the road, he brought the vehicle to a stop.

“Are you alright?”

“Am I alright? No, I’m not alright. Are you telling me Sheriff Brady thinks I would murder my husband for such a piddly amount of money? I’ll tell you this right now, my husband was a good man, and he was worth a whole lot more than half a million dollars.”

Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks and Noah felt like a heel. Abby was either playing on his sympathy or she was telling the truth. He wanted to believe the latter. Her emotions were too raw.

“And I’ll tell you another thing that only my grandmother knows. I was pregnant when my husband died.” She pulled a Kleenex out of her purse and blew her nose. Her voice wobbled when she spoke again. “I lost the baby not long after he died. I was devastated. I-it was a baby boy. And just so you know, I used part of the money to move to Texas, put some aside to take care of my grandmother as she grows older and gave a substantial amount to a local orphanage in memory of my son.”

Noah felt bad for even bringing it up. “Ms. Mayfield—Abby—I believe you. I’m sorry I brought up such painful memories.”

She blew her nose again. “Thank you.”

“Truce?”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Truce. Now, get me to choir practice before I’m late.” Her tone was filled with false bravado, but he let it go.

He guided the car back onto the road. “Yes, ma’am.”

The church was only five minutes away and Noah canvassed the outer perimeter of the church grounds as Abby hurried up the front steps of the building. A few minutes later he slipped inside, slid into a pew at the back of the church and settled in. He counted twenty people and wondered if Joanne Ferguson and Walter Fleming were in attendance. He really didn’t think they were involved, but he’d ask Abby to introduce them before everyone left.

His attention was drawn to Abby’s elegant hands as they flowed over the keys of the antique baby grand piano. He wondered how a church this small had raised enough money for such a nice piano, and then it hit him. Abby’s piano at home was a Steinway and he suspected she had purchased the church’s piano with part of the insurance money. He would check out the orphanage donation, but he believed her. His internal antenna had convinced him she was innocent.

He subtly checked out each choir member. They were all smiling and seemed to appreciate the work Abby was doing as their director. His attention zoomed in on a guy seated in the back row. He had a strong, male voice that rose above the others.

The man had to be Walter Fleming. He was tall and distinguished looking. The guy would be right at home working as a banker.

Noah closed his eyes as the old hymns he remembered from childhood washed over him. A peace he hadn’t felt in a long time settled in his soul and he breathed deeply.

He really wished—

The music stopped and he opened his eyes as Abby said a closing prayer before the group started to disperse. Several people spoke to him as they left, and he stood when Abby scurried down the aisle—the woman did everything so energetically—with the tall, distinguished man at her side.

“Noah—Sheriff Galloway—I don’t believe you’ve met Walter Fleming.” Her words came out in a rush. Subterfuge was not one of Ms. Mayfield’s—Abby’s—finer points.

“Walter, the sheriff gave me a ride to church, and since you’re new in town, I thought you’d like to meet him.”

The man had a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Walter.”

Walter nodded briskly. “You, too, Sheriff.” Fleming patted Abby on the shoulder and Noah stiffened as a jolt of jealousy shot through him. It was unwarranted. He’d only known the woman for two days. He contributed the feeling to being her protector. “I’ll see you early Sunday morning if you don’t mind running my part for me again before the service.”

“I’ll be happy to. See you then.”

Fleming left and Noah raised a brow at Abby.

She huffed out a breath. “I thought you’d want to meet him.”

Noah grinned. “I did. Good work. I take it Joanne Ferguson wasn’t here?”

“No. And she didn’t call or email, either. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

“Well, let’s get you home.”

As they were leaving, something struck the old wooden door behind them, mere inches from Abby’s head.

Noah knew exactly what the sound meant. He grabbed Abby, twisted her around, threw open the church doors and shoved her back inside the building.

A multitude of emotions crashed through him as he held Abby, wrapped in the safety of his arms, against the back of the closed door. He had a burning desire to protect her. Fear for her well-being roiled through him. She trembled and his emotions intensified.

“It’s okay.”

She pulled out of his arms, took a deep breath and lifted her chin. He admired a woman who could pull herself together so soon after being shot at.

“Did someone just—”

“Yes. Someone shot at you and they used a silencer. It suggests a professional hit.”

Her eyes rounded, but it didn’t take long for her to take in the information. Tight fists landed on her hips and her eyes narrowed. “I want to catch the person doing this.” Noah moved back when she took a step forward. “I’m tired of being afraid to look over my shoulder. I can use myself as bait and lure whoever is after me out into the open. It’s time to set up a sting operation.”

It took a moment for her words to penetrate his brain. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. There’s a good chance we’re dealing with a professional killer.”

Her shoulders slumped, her face crumbled and his heart melted. Those adorable, soft brown eyes found his. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t live like this the rest of my life.”

“Let’s deal with tonight first. I’ll call Cooper. He’ll check the grounds of the church and we’ll get you home.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and it was his undoing. “Trust me to help you, Abby. This is what I do.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m very good at my job.”

She nodded and he reached for his cell phone. Before he had a chance to call his deputy, he heard the familiar sound of a timer going off. He grabbed Abby, shoved her back out the church doors and down the front steps, and shielded her body with his as they hit the ground.

The explosion in the church covered Abby’s scream. The shooter wasn’t trying to kill her with a bullet, he’d wanted them back inside the church where all evidence would be destroyed in the fire. A second, fiercer explosion lit the night sky. Someone wanted Abby Mayfield dead and they were willing to blow up a church to make it happen.

FIVE (#u9cbcf4e5-90fb-5b30-9d97-80317814011d)

Abby spit dirt out of her mouth and coughed as she tried to lift her head. Her eyes felt scorched and her throat burned from the smoke. She could barely breathe beneath the heavy weight covering her.

Noah! Is he okay?

Facedown on the ground, she tried to move, but froze when he stirred on top of her. Relief slammed through her when he whispered against her neck, “Don’t move. If the shooter is still here, we want him or her to think we’re dead.”