What Are You Afraid Of?

  “Do you have a point?” he snapped.

  “Griff,” Carmen chided.

  “Yes, I have a point.” Ronnie glanced toward Griff, his eyes glittering pale and cold in the bright sunlight, and then the gaze swiveled back to Carmen. “My mother told me that after she’d discovered what your father had done, she assumed it was because he thought your mother had been unfaithful.”

  Carmen’s breath hissed between her teeth. “Are you saying my mother had an affair?”

  “No.” Ronnie held up a slender hand. “But everyone knew that your father was very possessive of his young and beautiful wife. Even I overheard him yelling at a deliveryman who he thought was staring too long at your mother.”

  Carmen’s chin jutted to a stubborn angle. “That doesn’t mean she was unfaithful.”

  “It was the only reason my mother could conceive your father would do such a thing, but she changed her mind,” Ronnie hastily assured Carmen, no doubt sensing she was about to bring an end to the painful conversation.

  Griff wished she would. He didn’t trust this man.

  Of course, right now, he didn’t trust anyone.

  “Why?” Carmen demanded.

  “After Lawrence moved into the house my mother realized that the Jacobses’ family business had been near bankruptcy for years,” Ronnie said. “She also discovered that your uncle had been badgering your father to sell everything.” There was a dramatic pause as Ronnie came to a sudden halt. “She overheard Lawrence saying that he regretted pushing your father over the edge, but that his death had rescued the family from catastrophe.”

  Carmen lifted her hand to her lips, her face paling at Ronnie’s sudden claim.

  “You’re not implying that my uncle—”

  “No,” Ronnie hastily interrupted. “My mother didn’t say that Lawrence pulled the trigger, but she did believe your uncle deliberately harassed your father, driving him to the point of suicide.”

  Carmen stepped closer to Griff, as if unconsciously seeking his support. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tucked her tight against his side.

  “Why?” she asked. “So he could inherit the company? It was already bankrupt.”

  Ronnie stepped closer and lowered his voice. As if one of the ducks who were floating on the nearby lake might be eavesdropping.

  “At first my mother wasn’t sure, but she’d suspected that the new Jacobses didn’t have the same morals as your parents,” Ronnie confessed. “Which was why she sent me away in the first place.”

  Griff’s opinion of Ronnie’s mother went up several notches. Obviously, she was determined to protect her son from the influences of Lawrence, as well as the Jacobs brothers, Matthew and Baylor.

  Smart woman.

  “And later?” Carmen asked.

  “Later she was cleaning your uncle’s private study and she knocked off a stack of papers,” Ronnie told them, a tight smile curving his lips. “When she placed them on the desk she realized that they were from a life insurance policy.”

  Carmen frowned. “Most people have life insurance.”

  Ronnie leaned forward, anticipation shimmering in his cold, blue eyes.

  “This was in your father’s name,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “And had you listed as the beneficiary.”

  Griff sucked in a sharp breath. Not at the man’s theatrical style. Ronnie Hyde was clearly a drama queen.

  Nope, it was his own stupidity that took his breath away.

  Why the hell hadn’t he considered a life insurance policy when he’d discovered the influx of cash into Lawrence’s bank account?

  It was the most obvious explanation.

  Beside him, Carmen gave a bewildered shake of her head. “I don’t remember my grandparents mentioning anything about a life insurance policy.”

  “I doubt they were ever contacted,” Griff said, glancing toward Ronnie. “Do you know the amount?”

  Ronnie’s smile widened. “My mother said it was three million dollars.”

  “Shit.”

  At Griff ’s low curse, Carmen turned to look at him with a puzzled frown. “What is it?”

  “We need to go back to the hotel,” he said.

  She blinked. “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Christmas lunch?”

  He grabbed her hand, hurrying back toward the truck. “It was just canceled.”

  “Thank you, Ronnie,” she called over her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry if I ruined your family reunion,” he called back.

  “I’m not,” she muttered. “Families suck.”

  Griff didn’t argue.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Carmen paced the floor of the hotel, the soft jingle of her bracelet the only noise to stir the silence.

  They’d been back in their private room for almost two hours. Since then Carmen had called her aunt to make their excuses for Christmas lunch, and changed her skirt for a comfortable pair of jeans.

  Now she had nothing to do but watch Griff work on the computer and consider the accusations that Ronnie had delivered in a soft whisper.

  A three-million-dollar life insurance policy.

  It sounded like an outrageous sum for most people, but not for someone in her father’s position. He would have wanted to ensure his wife and daughter could continue to live in the lifestyle they were accustomed to if something happened to him.

  And she wasn’t particularly shocked by the thought that her uncle might have found a way to steal the money that should have been hers.

  But would he actually go the extreme measure of sending her the photos? Or following her to Kansas City?

  That seemed less convincing.

  Still, if they could find proof that he’d taken the life insurance policy and confront him with the evidence, then he wouldn’t have any reason to continue to harass her.

  His sins would be exposed.

  Time passed and she called down for room service when her stomach began to rumble in protest. Within half an hour, a waiter was wheeling in a tray loaded with hot turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and two pieces of pecan pie.

  Griff offered a smile as she placed a plate next to the computer, grabbing it to eat with a distracted expression. She took her own food to the chair that she pulled in front of the window.

  A rueful smile touched her lips. This wasn’t the best Christmas she’d ever had. On the other hand, it wasn’t the worst.

  She at least had pie.

  Finished with her meal, she returned the plate to the tray. She was just considering a nap when Griff abruptly rose to his feet and stabbed his fingers through his hair.

  “Damn.”

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded, even as she knew exactly what was bothering him.

  “I can see the cash, but he’s run it through a dozen different accounts over the years,” he growled. “It makes it almost impossible to pinpoint the exact source of the income.”

  She bit her lower lip. “So we don’t have any proof?”

  He shook his head, his expression hard with frustration. “What we need is a copy of the policy.” His brows snapped together, as if he was struck by a sudden thought. “Did your father have a safety-deposit box?”

  She gave a lift of her hands. “If he did I’m sure my uncle would have already cleaned it out.”

  Disappointment rippled over his face. “So all your father’s financial records could have been destroyed.”

  “Yes.” A similar disappointment speared through Carmen. Not that she particularly cared about the money. Wait. That wasn’t entirely true. Three million dollars was nothing to sneeze at. But she needed to know if her family was responsible for the pictures of those women, or if there truly was a demented killer on the loose. Unfortunately, she didn’t have anything of her father’s. “Wait,” she breathed.

  Griff stepped toward her. “What is it?”

  “When my grandparents came to pick me up they packed up my mother’s personal belongings. Including a small
safe that she always kept in her closet.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” She grimaced, her stomach twisting as if she was once again that lost teenage girl who needed a tangible reminder that she’d had a mother who’d loved her. “One day I crept into the attic of my grandparents’ house to see what was inside, but it was locked and before I could get it opened my grandfather found me.” She shook her head, her arms wrapping around her waist. “I’d never seen him or my grandmother so upset. At least not since my mother’s funeral.”

  He reached out to grasp her hand, instinctively sensing that she needed the comfort of his touch.

  “Do you know why?”

  “I just assumed they didn’t want to be reminded of my mother’s life in Louisville. Now I don’t know,” she confessed. “It might have contained my father’s legal papers.”

  “Is the case still there?”

  “Yes.”

  Even after her grandparents’ deaths she hadn’t had the nerve to go into the forbidden attic. No doubt a psychiatrist would tell her that she was in some sort of denial at the horror of her past. Carmen preferred to think of herself as a survivor.

  Simple as that.

  “How far is the house from Louisville?” Griff asked.

  “Around three hours.”

  He glanced toward the window. It was shortly after noon, and the sun was high in the clear blue sky, bathing the city in brilliant sunshine.

  “How do you feel about a field trip?”

  She didn’t hesitate, already heading to her bedroom to grab her coat and purse.

  “I’ll drive.”

  Within fifteen minutes they were headed away from the hotel and out of town. Carmen was behind the steering wheel of the truck, roaring through the nearly empty streets. Next to her, Griff was busy with the open computer on his lap while he made a dozen phone calls.

  She tried not to eavesdrop, but she could tell a couple of the calls were to people he wanted to help him find out more about her uncle’s finances, plus a request for his neighbor to pick up his mail. Then he had several calls to family and friends, wishing them a merry Christmas.

  His low chuckles as he spoke into the phone were a stark reminder that she didn’t have anyone waiting for her call.

  No family. No friends who were waiting with bated breath by the phone.

  A familiar emptiness formed in the pit of her stomach. An emptiness she’d been battling since the night her parents died. Then, with a mental slap, she brought a sharp end to her bout of self-pity.

  If she wanted to create intimate relationships, she couldn’t remain so guarded. She had to lower her barriers and allow people into her heart, as well as her life.

  She shot a quick glance toward the man seated next to her.

  He was the reason she was feeling so lonely. And why she suddenly ached to form something deeper than a transitory affair.

  So did she have the nerve to do something about it?

  She cleared the strange lump from her throat as he held the phone away from his ear and gave a shake of his head. Carmen could hear the sounds of his friend’s voice warning of dire consequences if he didn’t get his ass to Missouri to spend a few days.

  Pressing his thumb to the screen, Griff ended the call and tossed the phone onto the dashboard.

  “It sounds like you’re in trouble,” she said, and then she grimaced.

  Nothing like pointing out the obvious.

  “Mmm.” Griff ’s attention locked on the open computer balanced on his lap. “Rylan was disappointed that I won’t be joining him and Jaci for the holidays.”

  “You know, you should go.”

  “Stop,” he interrupted without ever glancing in her direction.

  Carmen rolled her eyes, taking the exit off the highway and turning onto the narrow county road.

  “Are you bossy with everyone or just with me?” she demanded.

  “Everyone.” He paused, pretending to consider her question. “Although I make a special effort with you.”

  “Thanks,” she said in dry tones.

  “No problem.”

  His lips twitched as he focused on the computer. She didn’t know what he was doing, but she decided it must be fascinating since he didn’t say a word for the next thirty miles.

  It wasn’t until she made another turn, this one onto a narrow gravel road, that he lifted his head to glance around.

  His brows arched as he caught sight of the vast, rolling meadows that were occasionally framed by long white fences and wrought iron gates. In the far distance there were whiffs of smoke coming from the chimneys of farmhouses hidden behind clumps of trees.

  The people who lived in this area didn’t have mansions or elegant stables. These were working farms where men wore coveralls and rubber boots and the women had never once attended a Kentucky Derby party.

  “When you said the house was in a rural area, you really meant rural,” he said.

  She made the last turn onto the tree-lined drive that led to her grandparents’ home.

  “We already went through the last town of any size,” she said, wincing as they hit a pothole that should have been fixed two years ago. “The next town is forty miles north of here.”

  His gaze narrowed as she halted in front of the white clapboard house with green shutters. The roof was sharply peaked with a dormer window above the covered porch. At the far end was a red brick chimney that was starting to crumble. Yet another item on her to-do list.

  “You stay out here alone?” Griff abruptly demanded.

  “Not very often,” she told him. “The last year I’ve been spending most of my nights in a motel room. Before that I was in college finishing my masters in journalism and a couple years traveling to the different prisons to do the interviews for my book.”

  His tension seemed to ease. “Why do you keep it?”

  She wrinkled her nose. It was a question she’d asked herself a hundred times.

  Maybe a thousand.

  “Because letting it go would be admitting my grandparents are never coming back,” she confessed.

  She sensed Griff stiffen at her blunt honesty. As if she’d struck a nerve.

  “I get that,” he breathed, his gaze moving over the untamed meadows that were coated in a thin layer of ice. The temperature had steadily fallen as they’d driven north. “It’s beautiful.”

  She nodded. It was beautiful. But more importantly, it was home.

  The place where she’d always been loved. And protected.

  That made it worth a lot more money than the family mansion on the edge of Louisville.

  “Peaceful,” she murmured.

  “Yes.”

  She parked and switched off the engine. Then together they slid out of the truck and headed toward the house. They’d just stepped onto the front porch when Griff reached out to lightly touch her shoulder.

  “Stop,” he murmured, his gaze locked behind her.

  She turned to glance toward the road that continued past the house.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He pointed toward the deep ruts she could see carved into the mud. The low hedge that framed the yard had hidden them from view when they’d first pulled up. Now that they were standing on the porch, it was easy to see that someone had pulled onto the soft shoulder directly in front of the house.

  “It looks like someone got stuck,” Griff said.

  Unease crawled over her skin, like a spider scurrying over its web.

  “It’s not that unusual,” she said, trying not to push the panic button. She’d seen ruts before, right? It didn’t mean there was a bogeyman lurking in the shadows. “The roads are terrible.”

  Griff scowled. “Do you have mail delivery?”

  She shook her head. “No. I have a PO box. And most of my professional correspondence is sent to my PR firm in New York.”

  He stepped to the edge of the porch. “Where does the road go?”

  “It comes to a dead end at the old stables j
ust past the barn,” she told him, pointing toward the clump of trees that hid the outbuildings from view.

  His jaw tightened. “So there’s no reason for anyone to be out here.”

  She shivered even as she tried to ignore the dark dread spreading through her heart.

  “It could have been one of the neighbors,” she said, trying to reassure herself as well as Griff.

  He sent her a sharp glance. “Why would they be here?”

  “My family has owned this property for over a century. And everyone loved my grandparents.” She nodded toward the house. “Since people know I spend a lot of time traveling they come by and check the property for me.”

  Clearly unimpressed with her logic, Griff held out his hand.

  “Give me your keys,” he commanded.

  Carmen took a sharp step back. She had grudgingly accepted that she needed help. And that Griff was the person she wanted at her side.

  But she wasn’t going to be patted on the head and set in the corner like she was some empty-headed doll.

  “It’s my house,” she said.

  His expression hardened into stubborn lines. “I check it out first, or we call the local cops to do it.”

  She suspected her expression was equally stubborn. “We go together.”

  “Carmen.”

  “I promise to huddle behind you like a good girl,” she told him.

  His brows snapped together. “I want to keep you safe.”

  She knew that. Griff Archer was truly one of the good guys. But that didn’t stop her from feeling a pang of annoyance at his patronizing tone.

  “I can protect myself,” she informed him.

  “Not if someone has a gun.”

  She snorted. “Like you could dodge a bullet?”

  He leaned toward her, allowing her to catch the warm scent of his skin.

  “No one is trying to kill me,” he growled.

  She rocked onto her tiptoes, touching the ends of their noses together.

  “I said you can go first.”

  He muttered a curse, stepping back as his gaze swept the barren meadows and thick lines of trees that hid them from any neighbors.

  No doubt he was deciding that there was no good option in such a remote area. He couldn’t deposit her in a crowded café while he went to check on the house. Which meant that she was either left alone in the truck, or she went with him.