The Lawman's Legacy

Sadness.

Anxiety.

Fear.

Heart-pounding, breath-stealing fear.

Her blood flowed cold with it, and she couldn’t shake that. No matter how hard she tried.

Police milled around the lighthouse grounds searching for clues that would help them figure out how Olivia had ended up at the base of the cliff. All Merry could do was stand still, stay quiet, pray that she didn’t call any undue attention to herself.

“Merry? Are you okay?” Keira Fitzgerald hurried toward her, black hair gleaming in the hazy sunlight. The youngest of the Fitzgerald police officers, Keira was the least intimidating of the group, but she was still an officer of the law. Not someone Merry wanted to spend more than a few minutes talking to. Better to talk to her than Douglas, though. Douglas who tempted Merry in a way no man ever had. Tempted her to say things she shouldn’t, believe in things she shouldn’t. She should never have agreed to have lunch with him once, let alone twice. But she had. She’d sat across the table from him, looked into his blue eyes and known how dangerous a game she was playing. Two shared meals, and she’d wanted to confess everything. So, she’d told him what she had to, that things weren’t working out, and she’d done her best to avoid him ever since.

“Are you okay?” Keira repeated, and she nodded.

“Fine. I just wish Olivia was, too.” Her voice broke, and she swallowed back tears.

“You and Olivia were close, weren’t you?”

“We were friends.”

“You were going to meet her for lunch?” Keira scribbled something in a small notebook, and Merry nodded.

“She had the day off, and my landlady offered to watch Tyler. We thought it would be the perfect opportunity to spend some time together without kids. Not that Olivia didn’t like being with the twins. She did, but…” She pressed her lips together, forced back the avalanche of words.

Short, simple, to the point. That’s what she needed to be when it came to dealing with the police.

“When was the last time you spoke to her?”

“Yesterday afternoon when we confirmed our plans.”

“Did you notice anything unusual during your conversation?”

“No.”

“She didn’t seem upset? Worried? Anxious?” Keira pressed, and the words shivered along Merry’s spine. Too many questions being asked about the tragedy, and there had to be a reason.

“No. Why?”

“What time did you arrive at the lighthouse?” Keira sidestepped the question.

“Twelve-thirty.”

“Did you see anything out of the ordinary?”

“What’s going on, Keira?”

“Look, we don’t want this spread around yet, but it looks like Olivia didn’t fall. The evidence suggests she was dead or unconscious before she hit the rocks.”

“She was murdered?” Merry’s heart jumped, her stomach churning.

“That’s what the evidence is pointing to.”

“Who would do such a thing?”

“That’s what we’re hoping you can help us with. Olivia arrived in town three months ago. Now she’s dead. Probably murdered. She brought some kind of trouble with her. That’s what we’re thinking. You were her closest friend in town. Maybe you know what that trouble was.”

“Like you said, she’s only been in town for a few months. It’s hard to get close to someone in such a short amount of time.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing pulse. Stick as close to the truth as possible. Give the police as much information as she could. Go home and pray that she wouldn’t be pulled any further into the investigation. That was the plan. All she had to do was stick to it, and she’d be fine. Tyler would be fine.

Please, God, let him be fine.

“Funny, Fiona has mentioned you and Olivia getting together on a fair number of occasions. You don’t consider that close?”

“I liked Olivia. She was very sweet and easy to get along with, but we hung out together because we were both new to town and we both had young children with us all the time. We didn’t share much about our lives outside of work and kids.” Not much, but they had shared some. At least, Olivia had.

More secrets.

Too many secrets.

“I see.” Keira scribbled something else into the notebook, and Merry was tempted to yank it from her hand, read what she’d written.

“I wish I could tell you more, Keira. I really do.”

“Did Olivia mention any—”

“Have they brought up her body yet?” Dr. Charles Fitzgerald interrupted as he walked toward them, his expression grim, his eyes dark with sadness. Though he’d treated Tyler for ear infections several times in the past year, Merry didn’t know him well. Olivia had spoken highly of him though. Called him a gentleman, a great father and a wonderful employer.

“Not yet. It should be soon, though. You know you’re not going to be able to examine her body, right? That’s going to have to be left to the medical examiner,” Keira responded.

“I know, but I need to be here anyway. She was the kids’ nanny. She loved them, and they loved her.”

“Was she in her apartment when you left this morning?” Keira asked, all her attention on her brother.

Good.

Maybe Merry could get in her car, drive home to her son. Hide away until everything blew over.

Only she didn’t think this was going to blow over.

There would be questions. Lots of them.

And, that could mean trouble.

Merry moved away from the siblings, their conversation swirling on cold January air and following her as she walked to the edge of the path that led to the cliff. She didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to see Olivia’s body pulled up from the rocks, but she had to.

Three months wasn’t a long time to be friends, but it had been enough time to know that Olivia was alone. A transplant from Ireland, she had a cousin in the States, but no other family close by. Someone had to stand vigil as her body was retrieved. Since Charles was being interviewed, Merry was the only one left.

She followed the path, bypassing the lighthouse and winding her way toward the cliff’s edge. Gulls screamed, their banshee cries piercing the air. She shivered, pulling her coat tight against cold wind as she ducked under the tape.

“The tape is there for a reason.” The deep baritone cut through her thoughts, pulled her back to the present and the problem at hand. Douglas Fitzgerald blocked her path, his broad, muscular chest at eye level.

She had to look up to meet his gaze.

Way up.

“Someone needs to be there when Olivia is brought up. She doesn’t have family around, so…” Her voice trailed off as he studied her face, his eyes so intensely blue that she wanted to look away. She was sure he could read her secrets, see all the things she’d spent four years keeping hidden.

That was why things hadn’t worked out.

That was why two dates had been two too many.

That was why she avoided the man like the plague.

Only she couldn’t avoid him now, couldn’t turn and run in the other direction.

“So, you thought you would be her family and keep watch over her? I wish I could let you, but this is a crime scene.” His words were gentle, his touch light as he urged her back under the tape.

“I won’t touch anything. I just want to…” What did she want to do? Pray for Olivia’s family? Make sure her friend’s remains were treated with respect?

“My family cared about Olivia, too, Merry. I promise you, we’ll make sure she’s treated with dignity.”

“Olivia has a cousin in the States. You’re going to have to call her.”

“Do you have a name or contact information?”

“Meghan, maybe? I’m not a hundred percent sure.” She wasn’t a hundred percent sure of much when it came to Olivia. A half-dozen years her junior, Olivia had been as closemouthed and protective of her past as Merry. That had seemed to suit them both fine. Maybe it was one of the main reasons they’d become friends. Neither asked many questions. Neither gave a lot of answers.

Only, now, Olivia was dead and there was no way to avoid questions or answers.

Please, God, let the questions just be about Olivia. Not about me, or my life, or Tyler.

She shivered, and Douglas rubbed her arms, the quick, brusque touch doing nothing to warm her. Her teeth chattered, and she dragged the coat tighter around her chest. She wanted to zip it, but her hands were shaking violently, and she was afraid Douglas would notice.

“You’re cold,” he said in the same gentle tone he’d used before, and she knew why every unattached woman in Fitzgerald Bay wanted to capture Douglas’s attention. Knew why the women at church whispered as he settled into the pew with the rest of the Fitzgeralds. Knew exactly why she’d agreed to go to lunch with him twice and why it was absolutely imperative that she never do such a foolish thing again. His tone, his eyes, they begged confidence, promised protection, made a woman want to trust him with all her worries and every one of her deepest darkest secrets.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re freezing.” He grabbed the hem of her coat, had it zipped before she realized what he was doing. “Why don’t you go home and warm up? I’ll stop by your place and interview you after I finish here.”

Stop by her place?

Be near Tyler?

No.

Never.

Not in a million years.

That’s what she wanted to say, but couldn’t.

“I don’t mind waiting here until you’re finished.”

“It could take hours, and the wind is picking up, the temperature is dropping. Charles’s place is off-limits until we finish dusting for prints, and you’ll either have to sit in your car or stand out in the cold. Go on home. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” He turned away, assuming that she’d go along with his plan. She wanted to. She really did. But she couldn’t risk having him so close to Tyler.

“I’ll be warm enough waiting in my car, and that will save you the effort of driving over to my place.”

“Is there some reason why you don’t want me to stop by your house?” He scanned her face, searching for the things she held close to her heart, the truths she’d never dared tell anyone.

“Of course not. I just thought that if I waited here, I’d save you some time,” she lied, because she couldn’t tell him how much the thought of having a police officer near her son terrified her.

“If you want to save me time, stop arguing about where I’m going to interview you and go home,” he said with a half smile that made her heart flutter.

Foolish heart.

Even terror couldn’t keep it from reacting when Douglas was around. She had to keep her distance. Had to keep him out of her house, out of her life, out of her heart.

Above all, she had to keep him away from Tyler.

“Interview me about what? I’ve already told you what I know.” Even she could hear the desperation in her tone, and Douglas didn’t miss it. His gaze sharpened, and he stepped close, his expression taut and hard as he cupped her shoulders and looked down into her face.

“What are you hiding, Merry?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you so nervous?”

“Because Olivia is gone. Murdered, and I don’t know why. I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt her,” she responded truthfully, hoping it would be enough to assuage Douglas.

“Someone did hurt her though, and I’m hoping you can help us figure out who that was. That’s why I need to interview you.”

“I didn’t know her very well. Not well enough to tell you anything that could help.”

“You may be surprised at what you know and how much it helps. So, how about we stop arguing about this, and you go on home?” he asked, but it wasn’t a suggestion. He expected her to comply, and she knew she didn’t have a choice.

“We weren’t arguing. We were discussing.” She walked back to her car, giving up the fight to keep him away from her house. She’d just have to keep the interview focused on Olivia, keep it away from her past, her son, her secrets.

Douglas kept pace beside her, his silence grating her nerves and making her want to speak into it, offer more explanations for her reluctance, try to convince him that she had nothing to hide.

Because she didn’t.

Not anything that had to do with Olivia, anyway.

Several officers stood outside the door that led into Olivia’s tiny apartment in the cottage. Just a few hundred square feet, it consisted of a small living room, a kitchenette, a bathroom and a bedroom. Nothing fancy, but Olivia had made it homey and comfortable. Still, Merry had only visited once, Tyler’s rambunctious and busy nature making it difficult to relax in the confined area.

Visited once, but she’d walked through the apartment less than an hour ago. Touched the door handles, fingered the teacup that sat at the small kitchen table. Left prints everywhere.

The thought sent ice racing through her blood.

“What are they doing?” She gestured to Keira and another officer. Both were bent over the apartment door handle.

“Dusting for prints,” Douglas responded as he opened the station wagon’s door.

She didn’t get in. Terror froze her in place. “But Olivia died at the cliffs.”

“We don’t know where she died. We only know where she was found.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Why would you?”

Good question. One she couldn’t answer, because she was too busy watching Keira dust the doorknob and door frame. Too busy wishing she could run over and wipe away the dusting powder, wipe off any prints she’d left. Wipe away the traces of who she’d once been.

Please, God, don’t let them find any of my fingerprints. Please.

But they would.

How could they not?

She swayed, and Douglas grabbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This is all just upsetting.”

“Sit down. You’re pale as paper.” He urged her into the car, leaned in so they were eye to eye. “Are you going to be okay to drive home, or should I ask someone to take you?”

“I’ll be okay.” But her voice shook and tears she’d been denying since she’d seen Olivia lying at the base of the cliff spilled out.

“Will you?” He brushed a tear from her cheek, and she wanted to jerk away from the warmth of his palm, look away from the compassion in his eyes.

Dangerous.

So, dangerous to let him into her life.

“Of course I will be.” She wiped away more tears, shoved the key into the ignition and started the engine. She had to be okay. Tyler was depending on her.

Douglas studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

He closed the door and walked away, but the feel of his palm on her cheek lingered as she drove toward home, offering her a glimpse of what might have been if she hadn’t had to push Douglas away.

Comfort.

Security.

Someone to lean on.

She wanted those things desperately, but she wanted the life she’d created more.

She had to remember that. Had to get a handle on her emotions before Douglas’s interview. If she didn’t, she might give away too much of herself.

Four years, and she’d been fine.

Four years, and she’d kept Tyler safe.

She’d do the same for another four years and another and another.

She would.

All she had to do was keep her head on straight, focus on answering Douglas’s questions about Olivia without giving away anything about herself or Tyler.

All she had to do was continue to keep her secrets.

Only hers weren’t the only secrets she carried.

She had Olivia’s secrets, too.

Keep this for me, Merry. Don’t tell anyone you have it.

The words whispered through Merry’s mind, as clear as they’d been the day Olivia had spoken them, her lilting Irish accent charming and warm. They mixed with other words, another time, another place, another accent. Thick Bostonian. The same as the one Merry had worked so hard to rid herself of.

Keep him safe. Please, promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll keep him safe. Promise me.

So many promises, so many secrets.

Too many secrets.

And, Douglas Fitzgerald coming over to her house to ask questions.

Douglas with his winning smile and caring nature.

Douglas, who had taken her to lunch, looked deep into her eyes and made her feel beautiful and special and cared for. She couldn’t stomach lying to him, but she couldn’t ever tell him the truth.

Please, God, don’t let him ask me questions I can’t answer.

But Douglas would.

He had a reputation for fairness and honesty and dogged determination, and he had a way of looking at people and into them that made Merry nervous.

He would know she had secrets.

He probably already knew.

If he thought those secrets had anything to do with Olivia’s death, he’d dig until he knew everything. Every secret. Every lie. Every bit of what Merry had kept hidden.

He’d dig until he destroyed everything she’d worked so hard to protect.

Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, and, this time, she didn’t bother wiping them away.

THREE

Forty years.

That’s how long it had been since someone had been murdered in Fitzgerald Bay.

Scratch that.

It had been twelve hours since someone had been murdered in Fitzgerald Bay. At least, that was the coroner’s assessment, but Douglas hoped he was wrong. His brother Charles had a foolproof alibi for the morning. He’d left his house at eight, been at their father’s place by eight-fifteen. The entire Fitzgerald clan and a few friends had seen him there.

A good alibi for the wrong time.

Which wasn’t a good alibi at all.

That worried Douglas. Not because he suspected his brother, but because other people might.

A divorced doctor with a pretty young woman living in an apartment attached to his house had given the gossip mongers plenty to talk about. Would romance bloom between the divorced doctor and the Irish nanny? Would they marry and live happily ever after?

Douglas had laughed at the whispered speculations.

He wasn’t laughing now.

As much as he loved the townspeople, he knew that they’d find plenty more to whisper about now that Olivia was gone. Had Charles murdered Olivia in a fit of rage because she’d rejected him? Had there been a lover’s spat? Had the handsome doctor killed the woman who cared for his children?

Olivia had been young and sweet and, seemingly, vulnerable. Where she’d lived, where she’d died, those things were circumstantial evidence that could make people eye Charles with suspicion.

Douglas couldn’t let that happen.

Charles had been through a lot, and it was time for him to have a little peace. Hopefully, Douglas’s visit with Merry would provide evidence, something, that would keep people from whispering and speculating. Evidence that would lead to a killer. That’s what Douglas needed, and it’s what he planned to find.

He pulled up in front of Merry’s house, eyeing the small yellow Cape Cod. White shutters. Small porch. Toys littering the front yard. Nothing unusual about that, but there’d been something in her eyes when she’d seen Keira dusting for prints. Not just grief. Fear. Stark and dark and shimmering in the depth of her chocolate brown eyes.

He opened the gate, walked into the yard. She’d cleaned things up in the year that she’d lived in the house. Cut back shrubs and trimmed the old crab apple tree. Painted the siding and trim.

Made the little house into a warm and cozy home.

But as far as Douglas knew, she never had anyone over to visit. No church socials hosted at the O’Leary place. No playgroups with mothers and kids hanging out in the little yard. Maybe she’d had Olivia over once or twice, but that seemed to be the extent of Merry’s desire to play hostess. As a matter of fact, she’d announced that things weren’t working out between them a few minutes after Douglas had suggested he pick her and Tyler up after work and take them for an evening picnic in the park.

Merry had seemed truly horrified by the idea.

Just as she’d seemed horrified by the idea of Douglas stopping by her place to conduct the interview.

Too bad.

He was about to step into her world, whether she liked it or not.

He knocked on the door. Waited. Knocked again.

The door swung open. No strawberry-haired, soft-eyed woman, though. Instead, a dark-haired, black-eyed little boy looked up at him, his deeply tanned skin flushed with excitement.

“You the police?”

“I am, but you should have asked who I was before you opened the door, pal.”

“I’m not Pal. I’m Tyler.”

“Tyler William O’Leary! What have I told you about opening the door without permission?” Merry appeared behind her son, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow, her curls pulled up in a high ponytail.

“Not to.” Tyler shifted from foot to foot, nearly bouncing with energy.

“Then why did you?”

“I saw him out the window, Mommy. He has a cool car. Just like mine. Look.” Tyler held up a toy SUV.

“It doesn’t matter what his car looks like, you shouldn’t have opened the door. Go to your room. I want you to spend some time thinking about what you’ve done.”

“I already thought about it, Mo—”

“Go.” She pointed at a steep staircase to the right of the door, and Tyler dragged his feet as he slowly walked toward it, his gaze still on Douglas.

“Quickly, young man, or you won’t get any of the cookies we made.”

He shot up the stairs after that, racing to the landing and disappearing into a room.

“He’s a cute kid,” Douglas said, more to break the sudden silence than for anything else.

“He is, but he’s a little too smart for his own good.” She brushed what looked like cocoa off her apron. Faded jeans cupped round hips and long legs, and a pink sweater hugged her curves. As always, she looked pretty and soft and very, very lovely.

She also looked scared. Worried. Nervous.

“He’s four, right?”

“Yes. Next year, he’ll be in kindergarten but for now, he just goes to preschool three days a week. Mrs. Sanderson next door has him if I’m working the other two days. He runs her ragged. He’s just so busy, and I’m worried about what will happen when he goes to school. I’m sure…” She blushed. “Sorry. You’re here to talk about Olivia. Not Tyler. I tend to talk too much when I’m nervous.”

“What is there to be nervous about?” he asked, and she hesitated, her dark gaze skittering away.

“Olivia is dead. You said she was probably murdered. Her murderer is still on the loose. Shouldn’t I be nervous?”

Maybe, but not as nervous as she looked.

“More so if you know something about why she was killed.”

“I don’t, but I’m sure you have a lot of questions to ask, anyway. I have coffee going and homemade double-chocolate cookies if you’d like some. Why don’t we go in the kitchen to talk?”

She led him into a small kitchen, and he inhaled chocolate and sugar and a subtle berry scent that he thought might be Merry’s perfume.

He tried to ignore it as he sat at a round Formica table, but the berry scent was as difficult to ignore as the person wearing it.

As impossible to ignore.

He’d been on a year-long hiatus from dating when he’d seen Merry for the first time. Tired of being set up with friends of friends of friends, tired of searching for a woman who would complete him the way his mother had completed his father, tired of the games and the stress that went with every relationship he’d been in.

Tired of it all until he’d looked into Merry’s face, seen her smile. He’d tried to ignore her, because he hadn’t wanted all those things again. The games. The stress.

But ignoring her had been impossible and one lunch together had led to another and would have led to more if she’d let it.