Page 75 of Deception

“I think so.” She wanted to ask what he was looking for in her grandfather’s files. What was he hiding from her? Madison filled a water glass and sipped it. “Shall we try this again?”

He stiffened. “What do you mean?”

She wanted to laugh. He was wondering if she’d seen him in the office, but he couldn’t ask. What a strange dance they were doing. “Sleep. What did you think I meant?”

“That. You just sounded funny.”

That’s what a guilty conscience did for you. “See you in the morning.”

“I was serious when I offered to go with you to the funeral home.”

“And I was serious when I said I could do it alone.”

He cocked his head. “You’ve changed since your mother died.”

“Maybe I’ve just grown up.” If she hadn’t at thirty-five, when would she? “Good night, again.”

Back in her room, Madison picked up the letter from her grandfather. As much as she didn’t want to read it, it was time. She was too wired to sleep, anyway.

She noticed for the first time that the back had an unbroken wax seal across the flap, and this made her smile. Even though her grandfather was a busy man, he always made time for her. One summer they’d spent several days researching and making wax seals. She slid her fingernail under the seal, broke it, and opened the envelope. Slowly she withdrew the papers inside. Two pages in his handwriting.

Another smile. She recognized the fine lines from his favorite Montblanc fountain pen.

Dear Madison,

If you are reading this, then we never had the opportunity to speak of what you should do when I pass. But first I want you to know how much I cherished and loved your mother, then you.

She quickly skimmed the missive as he detailed the funeral service, agreeing with his choice of music. The last paragraph dealt with the settling of his estate, and the attorney she should contact.

I’m depending on you to take care of these matters.

The second page was written with a different pen, and she frowned as she read it.

Madison, I want you to go through my files and find one labeled James M. Hargrove. If it’s not there, then forget I mentioned it. But if you find it, please take the entire file to James. He’ll know what to do with it.

No matter what happens, always remember that I loved you and wanted the best for you.

Grandfather

She blew out a long breath. The details about the funeral service helped immensely, but Madison wasn’t sure what to do about the second letter. Was that the file her father had been looking for?

Madison leaned against the headboard. She wanted to know who Hargrove was. She picked up her phone and typed the name James M. Hargrove into a Google search. Several hits popped up, but one in particular caught her eye.

JamesM. Hargrove, Private Investigator, Natchez, Mississippi.

40

When Madison read the last page of her grandfather’s letter, her first impulse had been to go to the study and comb through the files. Instead, she waited until she no longer heard her father moving around in his bedroom.

She did not want him to catch her going through the files, in case she found Hargrove’s folder, and let another hour pass before she slipped into her robe. Madison eased out of her room and down the hall, once again avoiding the boards that creaked. Instead of her gun, Madison held her phone, using it as a flashlight.

Inside the study, she went straight to the four-drawer file cabinet and shined her light on it. The drawers were labeled on the outside—top one was labeled Miscellaneous, second was Clients, third was a nonprofit he was involved in, and the fourth was labeled Projects.

Which of the drawers would Grandfather have picked to store the Hargrove file? She eased the bottom drawer open. There weren’t many files in his Projects, and it didn’t take long to search through them. No Hargrove. She skipped the nonprofit drawer and skimmed through the files in the client drawer. Again, only a few files and Hargrove wasn’t in there, either.

She eased the first drawer open, grimacing when it hung up with a resounding bump. Then just like she did in her Hot Springsoffice, she gently lifted the drawer over whatever blocked it and stared at the magnitude of files.

There was no way to get one more file in this drawer. She flipped through them as quickly and quietly as she could and found nothing. That meant the file—if Grandfather hadn’t already destroyed it—should be in the one she skipped. Madison should have known that the very last drawer she chose was where it would be.

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