Page 20 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)
ELEVEN
“PAUL! HOW LOVELY TO SEE YOU . Come in.” Natalie moved back into the hall and pulled the door wide.
He called up a smile and stepped inside. “I hope you don’t mind the unexpected visit. I had to run over to the historical society on my lunch hour, and I was so close I decided to drop in. I’ve been thinking of you ever since I heard the news about what happened to Micah yesterday.”
A shadow passed over her face as she slowly shut the door. “I’m still in shock.” She motioned toward the living room. “Please, have a seat. I’ll make us a pot of tea.”
“I can’t stay long enough for tea. I have to be back at my desk in half an hour. But I’ll sit for five minutes.” He followed her in and claimed a chair beside the couch. “I’m more sorry than I can say about Micah. I know how much you counted on him to keep everything around here shipshape.”
“Yes, I did.” She sighed. “One more reason for me to mull over Steven’s suggestion that I sell the place and buy a condo in St. Louis where I wouldn’t have to worry about such matters.”
That was news.
“I didn’t know your cousin was pressing you to move.”
“I wouldn’t say pressing, but he is concerned about me. More than ever, with Micah gone. He’s planning to come down later this week and spend a few extra days with me. I imagine we’ll discuss my situation.”
Paul smoothed out a wrinkle in the upholstered arm of the chair as he mulled over this unexpected turn of events. His main goal had always been to convince Natalie to give him the journals, not leave the area.
“You may be able to find someone else to handle the upkeep chores here.”
“Lydia, my housekeeper, proposed that this morning too. She said her brother might be interested in taking over maintenance duties on a part-time basis, which should be sufficient.”
“That may be worth considering.”
“Yes, I suppose at the very least it could be a solution in the near term. I do want to follow through on my commitment to Cara before I make any major lifestyle changes.”
The very subject he wanted to discuss.
“How’s the translation coming?”
“Better. We’ve established a rhythm, and the pace is picking up as I get more accustomed to Marie’s penmanship and can decipher it more easily.”
Bad news.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Somehow he held on to his placid expression as he mouthed the lie. “Have you come across any interesting nuggets?”
“Nothing the average person would find noteworthy, but the glimpses the journals offer into this area during that era are fascinating. Cara is beyond excited.”
“I can imagine.” He flicked an imaginary speck off his slacks, keeping his manner and tone conversational. “How far along are you?”
“Closing in on the one-third mark. We’re on track to finish by the end of the semester. Perhaps much sooner if our pace keeps accelerating.”
Paul’s stomach cramped.
What if they got to the end before the election?
What if there was incendiary information in the last journal or two that somehow leaked to the press?
Such a disclosure wouldn’t come from Natalie, of course. She was the soul of discretion.
The professor, however, was an unknown. This research project was important to her.
She might not intend any harm, but there was a real risk if Natalie had given her carte blanche to use any of the information they uncovered.
What if there was enough in the journals to resurrect an old, rumored scandal?
Enough to throw suspicion on a certain high-profile person in relation to Marie’s death?
The press would gobble that up.
And while the woman’s demise was a decades-old cold case, it was possible someone committed to justice would want to dig back in and put it to bed.
Someone like Brad Mitchell.
A person Cara had been having what appeared to be a very friendly conversation with in town soon after her arrival.
Who knew how this would play out if she shared what she found with him?
And Dan didn’t need any bombshells close to the election.
Besides, whatever had happened on that long-ago night when Marie died wasn’t relevant to a political race decades later.
Nevertheless, the press and the opposition could use it to smear the Coleman name.
Paul tightened his grip on the arms of the chair.
Should he alter his plans? Be upfront with Natalie instead of trying to convince her to give him the journals? Ask her to hold off on—
“Paul?” She reached out and touched his arm, her face creased with concern as she examined his white knuckles. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” He took a deep breath and pried his fingers loose from the chair. Swallowed. “I have a lot on my mind these days. Politics is a stressful business, and Dan is neck-deep in it.”
“I’ve been following his campaign. He appears to be doing quite well.”
“He is. But politics is unpredictable, and the opposition can be ruthless.”
“Too true in our world today. I expect Dan will be fine, though. I’ve read up on his opponent.
It seems to me he has a few skeletons in his closet that would discourage him from finger pointing or—” She pulled out her phone.
“It’s the sheriff. He may have an update on Micah. Do you mind if I take this?”
“No.” Paul stood, the opportunity to broach his concerns gone for today. “I have to leave anyway. Duty calls. I’ll see myself out.”
“Come again soon.”
“I will.”
As she put the cell to her ear and greeted the sheriff, Paul crossed the room, slipped through the front door, and closed his eyes, suppressing a chill as a dark cloud scuttled across the sun and cast a shadow over the scene.
His campaign to put those later journals in cold storage had yielded zip, despite the efforts he’d made to convince Natalie they’d be safer in his hands.
Coming clean about his real motive for wanting to get them in his possession remained an option.
One he’d almost exercised. But there was a risk in doing that.
Even if he extracted promises from both Natalie and the professor to keep the contents confidential until after the election, they could also be damaging if Dan was elected.
Used by those who opposed his agenda as a distraction to undermine his ability to fulfill his campaign promises.
That technique had certainly been employed in politics in the past.
So maybe it was best he hadn’t mentioned his concerns today. Maybe he should continue pursuing his original goal to get Natalie to give him the journals. After all, he’d invested a lot of effort trying to convince her they might not be safe here. That danger could lurk within these walls.
It had been an unpalatable task. One that had taken him far outside his comfort zone.
But Dan was his son. Natalie was only a friend.
And family came first.
WELL, SHOOT.
Scanning her cell as Jack’s number flashed on the screen, Cara paused in her trek down to the lake.
Had her overprotective brother gotten wind of what had happened here three days ago?
If he had, she was in for a ton of questions. Any suspicious death raised his antennas. More so if a family member was in close proximity.
But delaying this conversation wouldn’t change whatever he had to say. And with him leaving for Quantico tomorrow, she owed him a good-luck wish.
Bracing, she pressed talk. “Hi, Jack.”
“Hi back. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No.” She walked over to the edge of the path, set down the small satchel she was toting, and perched on a large rock. “I’m taking a hike around the lake.”
“Great day for it.”
“Yes, it is.” The mild temperature, brilliant sun, and clear blue sky were Missouri autumn in all its glory.
“Can you hear me okay?”
“Yep.” Thanks to Bluetooth, which sent the sound directly from her phone to her sound processors. A big improvement over the days when she’d had to rely on the T-coil in her processors to eliminate extraneous noise.
“I just wanted to say ciao and remind you to stay in touch.”
So this wasn’t about Micah’s death.
She exhaled.
“I was going to call you later today to wish you good luck and bon voyage. And I don’t intend to bother you much while you’re away. They’re going to keep you super busy. You don’t need any interruptions.”
“Your calls are never an interruption.”
“Says the man who almost hung up on me the night you had your soon-to-be fiancée over for dinner last month.”
“A rare exception. I didn’t want the lamb chops to burn.”
“Did you say lamb chops?” Though Jack was speaking slowly and distinctly, as he always did during their phone calls, sometimes it was hard to catch unfamiliar words.
“Yes.”
“Seriously? How come Bri and I never get lamb chops when you host the sibling Sunday meal?”
“Do you know how much they cost?”
“Oh, so Lindsey’s worth the price of lamb chops and sisters aren’t. Thanks a lot.”
A noise that could be a huff came over the line. “Fine. I’ll have lamb chops next time I host.”
Cara grinned. It was too easy to needle her brother. “I’m kidding, Jack. We know you love us. You don’t have to serve us fancy food to prove that. All we require is a regular infusion of mint squares.”
“Those, I can provide. How’s the translation coming along?”
“Fine. Picking up momentum.”
“I imagine you’re getting a ton of work done out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to distract you.”
Nothing to distract her?
Oh no, nothing at all. Just dizzy spells and a kitchen fire and a dead body in the lake.
None of which Jack needed to know.
“Productivity does tend to rise when life is quiet and there aren’t any disruptions.”
A true statement, even if it didn’t characterize her sojourn here up to this point.
“You’ll stay in touch?”
“Count on it. Expect occasional dispatches from me to arrive in Quantico. Take care of yourself.”
“You too. Love ya, sis.”
“Back at you.”
After they said their goodbyes, she ended the call, slid the phone into her pocket, and stood to complete her mission of mercy.