Of course he hadn’t. He’d been too busy with his money and his secretary to give a thought for anybody else. “I don’t care. I want it. Let me in and I’ll look for it myself.”
“I think you’d better let her in, Wentworth.” A hint of menace laced Nick’s words. He’d been so silent Marisa had nearly forgotten he was there.
Scott studied Nick’s dark face and with a surly look opened the door wider and led the way down the hall to Mr. Easterling’s office. Each room they passed contained chaos, like a tornado had blown through the house. It was the same in the office. Everything was out of its usual place, clustered in jumbled piles. Mr. Easterling had been a tidy man and his office had been a place of organized busyness. He would turn in his grave if he saw this mess.
And Marisa’s mother never would have tolerated such disorder in this house. She prided herself on her excellent housekeeping.
Marisa burned with impotent rage. Legally she could do nothing to stop Scott, not until the lawyer got an injunction. In the meantime, she fought tears. She had to be strong in front of Scott. She had a feeling he’d savor her pain if he knew how badly he was hurting her.
“It’s supposed to be in here.” Scott leaned against the office doorjamb.
There were piles of paper everywhere. Clearly, Scott had been busy determining the extent of his new business empire. Marisa didn’t know how she would find anything in here, but it took only moments to locate the box sitting on the floor close to the desk. It had been opened.
Why had Scott claimed he hadn’t had time to look for it, when clearly he’d found it? Marisa glanced inside the 2-by-2 cardboard box. She would have no way of knowing if he’d removed anything he didn’t want her to have.
Closing the flaps, Marisa stormed to the door with Nick following.
“Don’t think your ploys will stop me for long, Miss Avalos.” Scott’s eyes narrowed. “As soon as that test proves your slut of a mother can’t name your father, I’ll be selling everything.”
Rage burned hot in Marisa. Her fists clenched around the box.
But Nick’s voice cut like glass. “Shut your mouth, Wentworth, or I’ll shut it for you.”
Marisa would have chosen the latter, but Nick propelled her out the front door.
“I knew there was a reason you brought your cop bodyguard with you.” Scott slammed the door shut.
Marisa fumed. The bastard. How dare he say such things about her mother.
Nick took the box from her and headed down the steps. She stood on the wide wooden porch without moving while anger seethed inside her like storm-tossed seas. She didn’t want to leave. Her fists clenched and her arm muscles tightened. She wanted to go back in there and bloody Scott’s nose.
“Marisa.” Nick’s gentle, understanding voice drew her attention. The sympathy in his dark eyes was a balm on her roiling soul. With just a look, he lured her down the steps to his side.
He stroked a free hand over her hair and his simple action unlocked her throat. “He’s ruining all the wonderful memories I have of this place.”
“I’m sorry.” He spoke with quiet, sincere sympathy.
Her anger flared again, but not at him. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize.”
“I know.” He slid the box into the opened trunk and slammed it shut. “Why don’t you show me around the place and tell me a little about your life here. Let’s thumb our noses at Wentworth with a tour.”
Her smile of gratitude felt strained. But he took her hand and they walked slowly around the huge house, which was part gray brick and part white wood. It had been far too large for one small family of three, even if they were the richest in town. But Marisa and her mother had shared it with the Easterlings for twenty-five years. Her life had been wrapped up in this house.
This might be one of the last times she could wander the grounds. Everything was changing, including her. She had no idea what the result would be. This week she’d been severed from everything she’d known in her youth and thrust into the unknown. She’d been frightened in this new reality, but not everything in it was terrible.
Marisa glanced at the man beside her. He wasn’t part of her youth; he was part of her maturity. She’d discovered things being with him that she hadn’t known, about herself and about the world she now inhabited. She felt more alive with him than she’d ever felt before, and that was unsettling to learn.
She shared the stories of her childhood with Nick as they strolled the grounds, to bridge the two halves of her life. She described how she and Carolyn had played hide and seek in that cellar, how Mr. Easterling taught them to skate on the cement veranda, how the many flower gardens, now gone to seed, had been planted for Mrs. Easterling’s enjoyment.
“She didn’t go outside?” Nick asked.
“Not much. Her wheelchair was hard to push across the grass. She looked at her flowers from the windows.”
“So she was a prisoner of this house.”
“Oh no. Mr. Easterling took her on trips. She loved to travel, but she’d sleep a lot when she got home. Mamá always worked twice as hard at the house after they returned from a trip. She’d come home exhausted.”
Brian Nash had been right about the ferocity of last night’s storm. Twigs and branches littered the lawn and lots of leaves had blown down. The mature trees were now half bare of their beautiful autumn colors. As they approached the hexagonal pool and fountain in the side yard, Marisa saw it was covered with leaves. At the moment, clouds blocked the sun, making the pond appear neglected.
“Someone should clean out the pond. I always loved it when the fountains poured water into it during the summer. Carolyn and I played here a lot.” The iron benches at the edges of the garden had not yet been put away for the winter. Marisa wondered who would do that chore now.
As the sun broke through the clouds, she heard Nick draw in breath. “Marisa.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the pond.
But not before she’d seen the woman floating in it.
“Oh my God! Is she dead?” Marisa cried.
Nick knew live women didn’t float face down in the water. He had to protect Marisa from further trauma. “Stay here and call 911 while I check it out.” Once again, he slipped effortlessly into his emergency training.
As Marisa pulled her cell phone out of her purse, Nick returned to the pond. Had the sun not come out at that moment, he and Marisa might have passed right by without noticing the body. From the leaves covering her, the woman had obviously been in the water since last night’s storm.
The water was no more than two feet deep, so he reached out and gripped the woman’s wrist. It was cold. He held on for half a minute, but felt no pulse. Tugging the body toward him, he tried to get a neck pulse. But she was long gone.
“Is she dead?”
“Yeah.” Poor woman. What was she doing in a pond on the Easterling grounds? Had she drowned as a result of the storm? And how had she drowned in such shallow water? He had plenty of questions, but no answers. It made him uneasy that the woman had died here.
Marisa moved closer. “The sheriff’s coming.”
“Damn it, Marisa. I told you to stay back.” His uneasiness lent his voice an edge. He winced hearing it. He hadn’t meant to snap at her.
“Who is it?” Her question sounded strained.
Damn, he’d hurt her. “I don’t know. I haven’t turned her over. Please go back over there.” He pointed to the iron benches at the edge of the garden. “You don’t need to see this.” He needed to do his job and protect her, but in order to do both, she had to move farther away.
Nick tuned out Marisa’s grumbling about bossy men. At another, less crucial time, it might have made him smile. He studied the dead woman. From the back, with her long dark hair, she looked like Marisa.
Cold dread gripped him. Had someone mistaken this woman for Marisa in the dark and caused her to have a fatal accident? If that was so, he had to be careful not to disturb any evidence. Slowly he turned the woman face up. The face was slightly bloated from being in the water, but he didn’t recognize her.
Marisa’s gasp came from right over his shoulder.
His voice came out sharper than he intended. “Damn it, Marisa, don’t you listen?”
“You’re not my father.” She gripped his bicep. “It’s Elizabeth Hernandez. She’s fairly new to town. Her husband works at the plant. What was she doing here?”
Nick didn’t think it a coincidence that a Latina woman was dead. He heard the sirens coming up the hill and pulled Marisa back from the pond. She was shivering, so he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her tight against him. She snuggled into him.
“What was she doing here?” Marisa repeated.
Nick wanted to know the same thing. “I don’t know. Was she the housekeeper?”
“No. That was Mamá’s job until the Easterlings were killed. Carolyn didn’t have a housekeeper. The only people who worked here were the grounds-keeping service she hired to take care of the estate.”
“Maybe she works for them.”
Marisa shook her head against his chest. “I don’t think so.”
Brakes squealed, car doors slammed, and many footsteps and voices headed their way. Sheriff Kehr was the first one around the side of the house and Nick prepared to deal with the fool. But Brian followed right behind the sheriff, and Nick relaxed. No matter how misguided the sheriff might be regarding Scott Wentworth, Brian would seek the truth.
Suddenly Nick realized how close they were to Wentworth. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He had to get Brian away from the sheriff so they could talk.
Brian nodded at them before proceeding to the pond. The volunteer paramedics followed him.
“It’s Elizabeth Hernandez,” Marisa said.
“Eddie Hernandez is going to be heartbroken,” one of the paramedics said.
Brian signaled Nick and Marisa closer. “Is this the way you found her?”
Nick told Brian everything they knew. The deputy frowned, but before they could discuss anything further, a loud voice interrupted.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Scott Wentworth stalked around the side of the house. He looked like he’d just finished another tryst with his secretary. His mouth was swollen and his hair tousled.
Nick felt Marisa stiffen in his arms, and he held her tighter.
Sheriff Kehr hurried to Scott. “Mr. Wentworth, a young woman was found drowned in your pond.”
“Drowned?” Scott said. “What woman?”
“Elizabeth Hernandez.”
Scott shook his head and held up his hands. “I don’t know anyone by that name. What was she doing on my property?”
“We don’t know that yet, Mr. Wentworth.” The sheriff practically bowed and scraped to Scott.
During the rest of the sheriff’s exchange, Nick took Brian aside, but kept an eye on Marisa. “The woman was Latina. She was on the Easterling estate, where Marisa often walks home from visiting her mother. I think someone might have mistaken her for Marisa.”
Brian’s breath whooshed out. “Jesus. You think it was Wentworth?”
Nick glanced over at Scott. “He’s putting on an Oscar-worthy performance. You should ask for his alibi.”
Brian glanced in that direction, too. “With Sheriff Kehr here?”
Nick lowered his voice. “If Wentworth is a killer, Sheriff Kehr isn’t going to win another term in office.”
“But he can fire or demote me while he’s still sheriff.”
“Two women are dead under mysterious circumstances, Brian. Another has had a string of near-fatal accidents. Aren’t you concerned about the women in this town?”
Brian jerked back and his face suffused with red. “Of course I am. Wait here and I’ll ask.”
Brian returned to where the sheriff was still talking to Wentworth. “Excuse me, Mr. Wentworth, but since this is your property, I’d like to know your whereabouts during the past twelve hours.”
“Deputy, I’m sure that’s not necessary.” Sheriff Kehr was making denying motions with his hands.
Brian stood straighter. “Sir, if he was any other person and we found a dead woman on his property, we’d demand an accounting of his whereabouts.”
“It’s all right, Sheriff,” Scott soothed. “I’ve been here since about nine last night doing an inventory of my property.”
“Can anyone vouch for that?” Brian asked.
“My secretary, Brooke Shroyer.”
“What time did she go to bed?”
Scott’s smile was smug. “The same time I did, and in the same bed. My faithful secretary knows I’m in pain and she considerately has offered me comfort in my darkest hours.”
“She can account for your whereabouts all night?”
“All night. She helped me relax enough to fall asleep. When the storm woke me, I realized my wife wasn’t there and would never be there again, and Brooke took my mind off Carolyn for the next several hours.” The last words carried all kinds of intimations.
Nick saw Marisa’s cheeks darken. Her hands were clenched. He moved toward her.
“I’ll need to verify that with your secretary,” Brian said.
“Fine. Come with me.” Scott wheeled and headed back the way he’d come.
Brian followed Wentworth around the house.
Nick felt this was an excellent time to remove Marisa from the scene. “Sheriff, may we leave now? We’ve given our statements to Deputy Nash. Miss Avalos has had a traumatic week and seeing another dead body isn’t helping any.”
“Yes, you’re free to go.” He sounded eager to be rid of them and turned back to the paramedics.
Nick hurried Marisa the shortest route to the car. She offered no resistance, so he was certain she wanted distance between her and Scott Wentworth.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he started the car.
“My place or yours, you pick.” He put the car in gear and started down the long driveway.
“I need to see my mother and tell her what’s happened.”
“Not yet.” He made a snap decision. “I guess we’ll go to your apartment.” He pulled out onto the road and turned left.
“Why not yet?”
“There’s something we need to discuss about what we saw today, in private.”
As Marisa opened her mouth, Nick pulled into her driveway, so she held her questions.
After they had the apartment door closed, Marisa turned to him. “What did we see?”
Nick decided bluntness was called for in this situation. “That was no recent affair between Wentworth and his secretary. She wasn’t a woman comforting a recent widower.”