One Small Secret. Meagan McKinney

The traffic on the dead-end road had diminished to one solitary van, and even those workmen were packing it up.

      “I sent Acomb to talk to someone at the Hall. I don’t think Griffin’s arrived yet, but we’ll get the word to him eventually.” Doug sat in his squad car, putting down notes on his clipboard.

      Honor sighed. “I wonder if maybe Lockey tipped them off somehow.”

      Doug patted her arm. “Sometimes crooks just chicken out, darlin‘. If they’re gone, then I say good riddance. Go get your little girl back and have a peaceful night’s sleep.”

      Sergeant Acomb, tall and gangly, walked up from the road after talking to the workmen. He nodded to the sheriff and slid into the passenger seat of the car.

      “We’ve done all we could. You want me to send Acomb, here, over for night patrol? Don’t mind, if that’d set your mind at ease.” Doug looked at her questioningly.

      Honor shrugged. Everything seemed like a nonevent now. Just an hour ago her life appeared to be careening back into Mark Griffin’s. Now, when Mark was finally going to arrive at the Hall, there would be no reason for them to see each other. Because she sure as hell wouldn’t seek him out. She’d tried for that whole first year to reach him in the corporate maze of Griffin Industries, but no matter how many phone calls she’d made to Zurich, no matter how many letters she’d sent, he’d never called back, never gotten in touch with her. By now he probably didn’t even remember her.

      A strange knot of tears formed in her throat.

      Quickly she said to Doug, “No, you guys go home to your families. This is over with. Thank heavens.” She waved them on, then disappeared into the house to get her car keys, so she could go pick up Lockey.

      

      “G‘night, Mommy.”

      “Good night, love,” Honor said, tucking Lockey into her bed.

      “I’m glad those guys left.” Lockey peeked at her from beneath the pile of homemade quilts that had been sewn by Shaw women throughout the years.

      Honor released a deep dramatic breath. “So am I!” she exclaimed, kissing Lockey on the nose.

      “Mommy, remember when I told you they were using scary words?”

      “Yes.”

      “Well, I remember now why they scared me.”

      “You do? What did they say?” Honor leaned down closer to her daughter for comfort.

      “They said they were here to kill Mr. Griffin, not to rob him.”

      Honor knew her face had frozen into a false mask of calm. “That’s terrible, honey. Is that really what they said?” Her mind raced, checklisting and crossing off dangers. Another bout of horror and panic threatened her, but she fought it back.

      “Uh-huh.” Lockey stared at her. “They were just going to take his stuff because they figured nobody else would want it after Mr. Griffin was dead.”

      “How awful.” Honor wondered if she were fooling her daughter or not with her false bravado.

      “They scared me, Mommy. They’re going to bring a tiger here, and they said maybe the tiger would get him, too.”

      “They won’t bring any tigers here, Lockey. Now I don’t want you to have nightmares. Those bad men will never come back here. I’ll make sure of that. And Doug will make sure of it, too.” Honor hugged her as if nothing could ever part them. “I promise you, they’ll never come back here.”

      She finished tucking in her daughter, her mind racing all the while.

      “It’s over now, honey, so go to sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” She kissed Lockey again, more for herself than for her daughter’s sake, and closed Lockey’s door.

      After racing silently down the back stairs to the kitchen, Honor picked up the phone and called the sheriff at home.

      “Doug, I just talked to Lockey, and she said that not only were those guys talking about robbing the Hall, they were talking about their real reason for being here—to kill Mark Griffin.”

      “To kill him? Not in my county, they won’t,” Doug said angrily. He’d obviously been in the middle of dinner. Honor could hear him swallow.

      “What should you do? Go over there?” she asked.

      “First I’ll call Griffin Enterprises again and give them this news. But I’ll tell your, they’re very protective of his privacy. I doubt he’ll give permission for me to go over to the Hall and see him personally. They wouldn’t the last time.”

      “But you don’t need permission. You’re the law!” she exclaimed.

      “Mark Griffin isn’t the criminal here. He has a nght to privacy, even if it kills him.” Doug’s voice dropped to a grave whisper. “Which it may.”

      Honor groaned. “Does this guy even get his messages? I can’t believe I’m in this predicament again.”

      “What d‘you mean by ‘again,’ girl?” Doug questioned.

      Caught off-guard, Honor quickly changed the subject. “Hey, I guess there’s not much else we can do. I was just upset hearing that those creeps staying in my own bed and breakfast were even worse than I imagined. Go on and finish your dinner, Doug. Tell Dons I’ll see her Wednesday. Bye.”

      She put down the receiver. To calm herself, she made a cup of hot tea and took it to the back veranda.

      The lights of Blackbird Hall shone through the forest of live oaks like a landing UFO. It didn’t seem natural to see them, when for years there had never been lights in that dark grove.

      Sipping her tea, staring at the lights, she thought about Mark Griffin.

      It wasn’t hard to picture him. Even after all these years, she could still see his eyes, still picture him standing in the candlelight of the parlor of Blackbird Hall with that grin on his face, that terrible, beautiful grin.

      It didn’t seem right that she could sip her tea and watch those lights, when the very person who had lit them might even now be the object of a murder plot. Not when she could personally see to it that he was warned.

      She was an ordinary citizen. She’d been rebuffed by Griffin Enterprises before. But this time, she wouldn’t go through the bureaucracy of Griffin Enterprises or even the Natchez Police Department. She didn’t need to have proof of a threat to be a Good Samaritan and go warn her neighbor about the men who had stayed at her bed and breakfast.

      In truth, she was probably morally obligated to ring the bell at the Hall’s gates and tell the man that there had been a threat against him.

      She could give him the information and then move on. He could do with it what he would; she would have no further obligation to see him.

      But did she have the courage to do the right thing?

      She closed her eyes. In truth, she wasn’t sure. Blackbird Hall was only a few steps away, but she could be opening a hornets’ nest if she were to see him again. There would be questions. God, would there be questions. Questions she just didn’t want to answer after all these years.

      Yet, she couldn’t not warn him. If something happened, she would never forgive herself.

      And then there was Lockey.

      She didn’t know what she would say to Lockey if Mark Griffin were hurt because no one had warned him...how she would explain that she’d had the chance to help. To maybe even put things right, but...

      As much as it frightened her, she knew she had to give it a try. Mark Griffin had to be warned, if only to keep her own conscience clear.

      She shoved away her teacup and stood. Her housekeeper Vergie was in the next room. Lockey would be fine for a few minutes if she went next door. Trembling,