Page 45 of Out of Time (Undaunted Courage #3)

TWENTY-FIVE

“NATALIE, IS EVERYTHING OKAY ?” As Cara broached the question, she studied the older woman. This was the second pause the woman had taken to rest her eyes a mere hour into their Monday session, and she looked weary and pale. As if she was feeling sick.

“Yes.” The corners of Natalie’s mouth tipped up, an attempt at reassurance that seemed to require far too much effort. “I’m just a little tired. I haven’t slept well the past two nights.”

Cara smoothed out a wrinkle in the top sheet of her tablet.

Maybe she was overstepping, but Natalie was such a dear person, and her wan appearance was troubling.

“From what you’ve told me, that’s not like you.

I remember you said once, back when I first arrived, that you were grateful you always slept like a baby.

I don’t mean to be nosy, but do you have any idea what’s going on? ”

“Yes and no.” Her brow pinched, and she hesitated.

As if she was thinking about explaining that ambiguous response.

But in the end, she didn’t. “It’s a problem I have to work through.

Nothing you need to be concerned about.” She ran a finger across the text on the journal page in front of her.

“You know, I’ve been thinking we should skip ahead and see what we can learn about Marie’s death.

Passively waiting for a story to unfold may not always be wise.

And I know Paul would appreciate having answers sooner rather than later. ”

“I’m game if you are.”

“Let’s do it.” She pushed her chair back, rose, and walked over to the desk, leaning more heavily on her cane than usual.

After she pulled out the last journal, she returned to their worktable.

“I’ll translate the final entry, and if that doesn’t provide answers, I’ll work backward and see if any of the previous entries do. ”

“Ready whenever you are.” Cara leaned forward, fingers poised over the keyboard.

Natalie slipped her glasses back on and flipped through to the last pages of writing, about midway through. “This entry is dated May 12, 1935. The day Marie died.” After taking a sip of tea, she began to read.

I have thought about my situation day and night, tried to find a solution, but there is none. Not as long as he refuses to acknowledge that the—

Natalie frowned at the text. “Oh my.”

“What is it?” Cara stopped typing.

The other woman held up a finger and continued reading.

...that the baby is his. I know now all my fondest hopes have been nothing but dreams that will never come true.

He isn’t going to leave his wife or his family.

He was very clear about that when we met two weeks ago.

It would ruin him, he said, and his work in Washington is too important to give up.

More important than me and his baby. So he’s going to ruin me instead.

I’ll be a disgraced woman. An embarrassment to my family.

No one in town will want to have anything to do with me.

There is only one way I can remove the source of humiliation from my family and myself. This isn’t how I wanted it to end, but what is the point of going on with a broken heart? I have no future anyway.

I’ll do it tonight, where he and I spent such happy hours together.

I know I should destroy my journals too, but somehow I can’t.

That would be like erasing the part of my life that gave me the most joy—and sadly, in the end, the most heartache.

Instead, I’ll hide them. Perhaps someone in the future will find them and learn a lesson from my mistakes.

And before I take the leap, I will put myself in God’s hands, pray he understands my despair, and trust in his mercy and forgiveness for what I am going to do.

The room fell silent, and Natalie let out a slow breath. “So Papa was right, after all. His sister’s death wasn’t accidental. What a heartrending end for such a young woman.”

Cara swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “At least we know why she did it.”

“Yes. Despair can drive a person to take desperate measures. And finding oneself in a difficult situation can certainly trigger despair.”

Cara scrutinized her.

She wasn’t talking about Marie anymore. That was as obvious as the identity of Marie’s suitor.

What was going on?

“Natalie.” She leaned forward. “You seem beyond tired today. More like disturbed. Did something upsetting happen over the weekend?”

She sighed. “It’s a long story, my dear. Would you mind if we canceled the rest of this morning’s session? After reading Marie’s last entry, my heart isn’t in the work today. I should also call Paul. Tell him what we found.”

“I’m assuming he’ll conclude his grandfather was the man involved. Even though Marie never identified him by name, the reference to Washington is a solid clue.”

“Yes, it is. I expect Paul will agree. And while his grandfather doesn’t have direct culpability in her death, he did play a role.

” She tapped a finger against the journal.

“The only identifying comment about him is the mention of Washington, as you noted. We may want to strike that reference from the translation. It’s an irrelevant detail for our purposes, important only to the two affected families.

I can scratch it out with indelible ink in the journal too before I turn the set over to the historical society. ”

Cara backed up to that section on her screen, highlighted the words “in Washington,” and hit delete. “Done. We can do the same if there are any other specific references in the previous entries too, as we come to them.”

“I believe that’s a sound decision. Now I think I’ll take a quick nap before lunch.

” Natalie rose again and carried the journals back to the desk.

Secured them in the drawer. “We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow.

I’m sorry to cancel the rest of the session for today.

We can extend one of our sessions later in the week to compensate, if you like. ”

“That may not be necessary, with the excellent progress we’re making.

To be honest, I could use an extra hour today to go through all the research material I’ve amassed.

That will keep me busy until dinner.” And since her hostess didn’t appear to be up to cooking, a visit to Chuck’s Place might be in order.

“Why don’t you let me treat you to the diner in town tonight? We haven’t gone out in a while.”

Natalie’s lips stretched into a joyless smile. “That’s a very kind thought, but let’s decide later in the afternoon. Chuck serves hearty food, and I’ll have to see if my appetite is up to that challenge.”

“All right. I’ll check with you around four.”

With a nod, Natalie left the room.

As she disappeared, Cara set her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm.

What was going on with her benefactor?

While she’d claimed her odd mood was due to fatigue, the anxiety radiating from her had nothing to do with tiredness.

Had she had another dizzy spell over the weekend? Could a new health issue have cropped up? Was she worried about being here alone after their project ended? Was it possible she’d had some sort of altercation with Steven?

Who knew?

And unless Natalie decided to share her concerns, Cara would have to resign herself to remaining in the dark.

All she could do was pray that the woman who’d gone from patron to friend during the weeks they’d worked together wouldn’t have to cope with yet more upheaval in her life.

STEVEN BOYER WAS UP TO HIS EYEBALLS IN DEBT.

As Brad skimmed the man’s credit report, he leaned forward in his desk chair and let out a soft whistle.

Apparently his gig as a financial consultant wasn’t as successful or lucrative as he’d led Natalie to believe.

That didn’t explain why he’d be prowling around the woods at night, however.

Nor did it explain why he might have wanted to kill a man whose material assets were meager. How would he have profited from that?

Unless Micah had witnessed clandestine activity on Natalie’s property that the still-unidentified trespasser hadn’t wanted seen ... and that masked man wasn’t a trespasser at all, but Steven.

But if it was Steven, what could Natalie’s cousin have been doing at such a late hour night after—

His cell began to vibrate, and he pulled it out. Smiled as he put it to his ear. “Good morning to my favorite historical anthropologist.”

“I’d be flattered, except I assume I’m the only historical anthropologist you know. We’re a rare breed.”

“True. But you’d be my favorite no matter how many I knew.” He glanced at his watch. “I was going to call you this morning, but I assumed you’d be deep into a translating session with Natalie.”

“I should be, but she bailed early.”

“Isn’t that out of pattern?”

“Yes.”

“What’s going on?”

“I have no idea. All I know is she seemed disturbed. I decided to call and see if you noticed anything odd in her behavior while you were talking to her Friday morning about the trespasser and trying to convince her again about security cameras.”

“No. I wonder if she’s worried about Steven.”

“Why would she worry about him?”

Oh, right. Cara probably didn’t know about the man’s injury. Their phone conversation yesterday had been cut short after he’d had to take a call about a four-car pileup that had sent him double-timing it to the scene to lend a hand.

He briefed her on the basement incident, leaving out his suspicions about the man.

At this stage they were in the purely speculative category.

And it wasn’t like Steven was hanging around the premises during the week presenting any danger to anyone—if he was, indeed, guilty of any crimes on Natalie’s property.

“Maybe she’s still worried about him.” As he wrapped up the story, Rod appeared in the doorway. He waved the man in.

“I suppose that’s possible. But why wouldn’t she have admitted that when I asked her what was wrong?”

“I don’t have an answer for that—but I do have a visitor who just walked into my office.”