Lethal Legacy. Carol J. Post

the con side. She wasn’t about to let him push her around. But having to deal with an antagonistic neighbor needed to be a consideration in her decision. Especially when her safety was at stake.

      As for Bryce, she hadn’t decided whether his presence was a pro or a con.

      * * *

      “Stay.”

      Bryce extended his arm, palm angled toward Cooper. “You can’t go with me this time.”

      He moved down the porch steps, leaving behind a pouting dog, then headed across the yard under a steel-gray sky. A cold front was moving their direction. It probably wouldn’t bring snow. Murphy saw snow only a handful of times each year. November was a little early.

      Today Andrea was returning to Atlanta. She’d finished the funeral arrangements before coming to Murphy but still had a lot of paperwork to get through in the Wheatons’ Atlanta house.

      Tomorrow he’d make the two-hour drive himself. No way was he going to pass up the opportunity to pay his final respects to the man who’d made more difference in his life than anyone else on the planet.

      He stepped onto the trail that separated his property from Andi’s. He’d see if Andi needed help with anything before she headed out. After the funeral tomorrow, he had no idea when he’d see her again. If ever.

      Disappointment settled over him. Two days hadn’t been enough time to iron out everything that was wrong between them. He wasn’t sure what changes he’d expected in so short a time, but they hadn’t happened.

      When he reached her yard, movement drew his attention to the right. He looked that way as Andi disappeared into the woods. Where was she going?

      He jogged along the side of her house and to the back. The small yard sloped down toward woods that stretched all the way to a creek at the rear edge of the ten acres. Ahead, patches of red flashed between almost bare trees. He followed, now knowing her destination.

      When he reached her, she stood outside a small circular stone wall. Four posts held up a weathered roof. The crank that had at one time wound the rope to raise the bucket had frozen up years ago. He’d been there with her before. Many times.

      She glanced over one shoulder before turning back to stare into the dark depths. “This was one of his favorite places.” Her tone held wistfulness. “He used to say that most wells collect wishes, but this one collects burdens. Anytime something was bothering me, we would pretend to ball it up and throw it into the well.”

      The sadness radiating from her was almost palpable. But there was something else, too. She seemed tormented in more than a grieving sense. Her turmoil wove a path straight to his heart.

      He put a hand on her shoulder, and she tensed. He dropped his arm. Would he ever be able to offer comfort as a friend and have her accept it?

      “I’m sorry.” So much more than two words could convey. He was sorry for the way her life had been turned upside down, sorry for the grief she felt and sorry that he’d killed any chance of a friendship with one stupid decision.

      And friendship was all he hoped for. Dennis had told him about Andi’s divorce, but other than a brief reference to her husband cheating on her, he hadn’t given any details. All Bryce knew was she’d taken it hard. And she had walls around her heart a mile thick.

      Dennis hadn’t had to tell him the last part. He’d felt them for the past two days. And he didn’t have what it took to break them down. A few months ago, maybe. Before he’d expended every bit of emotional energy he had on a relationship, only to have it crash and burn in the end.

      A rain-scented gust whipped through, sending a shower of dried leaves down around them. Andi turned away from the well. “If I want to make my trip on dry roads, I’d better get going.”

      “Can I help you with anything?”

      “I’m already loaded and locked up. I just wanted to come out here before I left.”

      He fell into step beside her. “Any idea when you’ll be back?”

      “Not for a while.”

      They crossed the small yard, then continued along the side of the house. A piece of fascia on the gable end had worked its way loose, and the wood siding needed a fresh finish. If Andi wanted to sell the place, she’d need to have some work done. Or maybe she’d keep it as a weekend getaway.

      Not likely. If she’d “gotten away” anytime over the past twelve years, it hadn’t been to Murphy.

      He stopped in the driveway to stand next to the Escalade. “Until you decide whether to sell, I’m happy to continue keeping an eye on things. I’m sure it’ll take time to settle the estate.”

      “Settling the estate will be the easy part.” She leaned against the SUV, her brows dipping to form creases above her nose. “My dad added me to all their assets just two months ago. I didn’t question it at the time. He’s always been a planner. My parents have had wills as long as I can remember. But maybe this was more than good planning. Maybe he was putting his affairs in order for a reason.”

      She opened the driver’s door and slid into the seat, shoulders hunched. “I should have asked him some questions.”

      “You tried. He wouldn’t talk.”

      “He was going to talk to you.”

      “Then apparently changed his mind.”

      She nodded. “He buried it deep.”

      He lifted a brow.

      “Last night, I picked up a book he had sitting on his nightstand. A piece of paper was sticking out of it. He’d written, ‘When a secret is too heavy to keep, it’s always best to bury it deep.’”

      He frowned. “That secret is probably what he was going to talk to me about.”

      “Instead, he decided to stuff it down and hold it inside. Whatever his secret was, he took it with him when he drove off the mountain.” She put the key into the ignition and cranked the engine.

      He stepped back, ready to close her door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      Actually, he probably wouldn’t. He’d be there, but so would half of Atlanta. He’d never been to their home church, but according to Andi, it was huge. As well connected as they’d been, it would be packed.

      He’d never been crazy about big churches. Actually, he’d never been crazy about church, period. Not that he was a stranger. His mom and grandparents were what some called “Chreasters”—they attended on Christmas and Easter.

      Andi’s family had gone every Sunday, even while in Murphy. The church here was different from what they were used to, with a congregation of less than a hundred that met in a small building off the four-lane highway.

      Bryce had usually gone with them. At that time, he’d needed it. He’d had lots of mischievousness to atone for. Now he was a law-abiding citizen, serving the people of Cherokee County. At thirty years old, his good deeds far outweighed the bad he’d done as an adolescent and young teen.

      He closed Andi’s door, then watched her head up the drive. If she kept the property, she’d have to visit occasionally, even with him checking on the place. It wouldn’t make sense to keep up the taxes, insurance and utilities otherwise.

      Of course, she could afford it. For the Wheaton family, money had never been an issue. Between her parents’ wealth and what her husband made, Mrs. Wheaton had never had to work. Bryce’s own mother had held a nine-to-five job in a local insurance company.

      While Andi had lived in the Wheaton mansion in an exclusive Atlanta neighborhood, he and his mom had stayed with his grandparents. And during Andi’s vacations to places like Switzerland, Ireland and Paris, his family had visited relatives or camped at Deep Creek.

      But Andi had never let the difference in social status get in the way of their relationship. Ultimately,