Ancient Inheritance [NOOK Book]

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"But your grandfather must have talked to her about what happened, though?"

"No. He never did. She told me he'd never spoken to anyone about what happened." She paused for a moment before carrying on. "I think Granddad was about to tell me what it was just before he died. On the phone the night before, he said he had to speak to me about something important when I got home, but he never got the chance. He was dead the next morning. He's the only one who knew what happened, and now he's gone."

Catherine made up her mind. She was alone now, and had to look out for herself. And there was the baby's safety to think about. "Detective," she raised her head, giving him a determined look. "I don't know how, but I intend to find out what Granddad was hiding, what it was he wanted to tell me before he died. And I need you to help me."

"I promise you," he said, "I'm going to make it my mission."

There was a long pause, then the detective continued his questions.

"Who was the man reported to have been killed along with your mother and grandmother, do you know?"

"Yes. Granddad talked to me about him. Joe was his best friend. They fought in the war together."

"Is that the same friend whose grandson showed up at the funeral? You mentioned this fellow, D'Arcy Lawrence, might have had something to do with your boyfriend's change in behavior."

"Yes." Cat nodded eagerly. "I think that's where we have to start. The way I see it, Granddad died before he could tell me something important, a secret he'd kept for years. Matthew tried to kill me and now Evangeline's dead, all this within a week of D'Arcy Lawrence showing up. He's the common denominator. Find him, andmaybe we'll find out what's behind all this."

"My thoughts exactly," he said. "I'm going to leave now and get to work. I'll track this D'Arcy Lawrence down, don't worry. I'll start with the sheriff. Marécage Noir's a small town. Somebody must have seen him around. And I'll check the passenger manifests for flights coming into New Orleans, and the car rental companies. I'll get back to you as soon as I know something. You get some rest for now, you look pretty wiped."

She was sorry to see him go, but anxious for him to get started. He must have forgotten his attaché case was open because, when he lifted it from the table, some of the papers spilled out across the bed. Cat helped to gather them up and happened to glance at one of the crime scene photos she picked up. She stared in dismay. It was him. "Oh, my God."

"I'm sorry. How stupid of me," Rogan said, putting his file back together.

"No. I mean, that's him," she said, holding up the crime scene photo. "That's the man, D'Arcy Lawrence."

Rogan cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at her. She could see he doubted her. "Impossible. This is a different investigation I'm working on, totally unrelated to your case. Maybe it just looks like him."

"No, I'm sure it's him. I can see the edge of the Rolex watch he was wearing. There, sticking out from his jacket sleeve, see? His eyes are closed in the picture, but I guarantee you, they're blue. Check your file."

After Rogan finished flipping through the papers, he shot her a surprised look. "If this is the same man," he told her, "then things are about to get very complicated." He stopped.

"What do you know about him?" she asked.

"The man you're looking at," he told her, "is a banker from Rome, Italy. He's been positively identified. Did the man you met have an Italian accent?"

Cat shook her head, still unable to drag her eyes away from the photo. "No, no accent. He told us he was from New York." Could she have been mistaken? She looked at the picture again. No. It was definitely him.

"What else do you know about him?" When he didn't answer right away, she said, "Please. I need to know, Rogan."

"I can't," he said, finally. "I'm not at liberty to discuss this case with you. I've already said more than I should have."

She stared him down, waiting. He blinked first. He reached inside his pocket and extracted a piece of paper. "Are you Catholic, Ms. Caldwell?"

"Yes," she said, surprised by the question.

"This is the number of a priest," he said, handing the note to her. "Father Kilgour. Maybe you should have a chat with him. You might find the conversation of interest. That's as far as I can go."