Skeleton's Key (Delta Crossroads Trilogy, Book 2) (6 page)

Dani Evans was
going to be a pain in his ass. She was stubborn and out of her element, and he had no idea why he was chauffeuring her around Roselea. She had a car, and she was capable. He wasn’t really in the mood to listen to her rapid chatter about everything she saw either. Her Northern accent gave him a headache. She didn’t have a clue what it meant to live in the South. Her questions about Lana had been well-meaning but nosy. And she sure as hell didn’t need to be in the basement digging up bones.

But the joy on her face as she moved through the house was impossible to ignore. The way she lovingly ran her hands across the walls as she moved, taking in the condition of the place. Her soft smile made Cage feel he was invading on a private conversation.

And she was alone. As Ironwood’s caretaker and Dani’s employee, he figured it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Ironwood was about five miles outside Roselea city limits, and grand old homes, red clay hills, and ditches full of wildflowers cluttered the drive into town.

“A lot of these houses are post-Civil War,” Dani said as she pressed her face against the passenger side window. “But they are definitely pre-1900.”

The winding country road took them past a small cotton farm, the white bolls blowing proudly in the wind.

“You know, there’s more to Mississippi than the old homes.” Cage drove past Miller’s farm and waved to Slim, the potbellied owner who labored over a fence rail that refused to stay in place. Cage suspected the overgrown kudzu Slim battled would bring the fence down one of these days.

Dani tore her gaze away from the window. “What’s your favorite thing about Mississippi? And please don’t say the heat.”

“No one in their right mind would say the heat.” Cage thought for a minute. “I love everything about Mississippi, but if I had to choose, I’d say the dirt roads.”

“The dirt roads?”

“Sure. They take you places where you’re the only soul around. Just you and the sound of the trees and the bird calls. Man can sit for hours just in his own head. That’s peace.”

Cage had spent many hours rolling over the dirt roads, reflecting on life and what he’d lost and never won. His sister was gone, and the one woman he’d loved inaccessible. The dirt roads were a kind of silent therapy.

Dani didn’t respond, instead sitting quietly and once again staring out the window. Cage’s eyes slid over her frame. She reminded him of a wildflower – delicate and a little untamed. She was small, the top of her head barely grazing his shoulder, but her brazenness made her mildly intimidating. Though still pulled back, strands of her golden hair fluttered around her face.

She turned to him, and he realized her eyes were a rich blue. She flushed at catching him staring. He hastily focused on the drive.

“I’d like to see the dirt roads sometime,” she said.

“Sure.” He’d never had a passenger on one of his dirt road trips. He tried to think of something different to talk about.

“Oak Lynn,” he said.

“What?”

“Oak Lynn Plantation,” Cage said. “You’ve heard of it?”

“Of course! It’s considered to be one of the best restored plantations in the state.”

“It’s just past this next curve, on the right. They have ghost tours all the time. You’ll have to–”

“Oak Lynn is my neighbor?” Dani’s face was plastered to the window, fingers splayed across the glass like the chubby kid at the candy store. Cage had been that kid a long time ago. He grinned at Dani’s exuberance.

She glanced at her watch. “It’s not quite six. Can we stop? I can introduce myself, maybe even get a special tour. Please?”

“Grace, the owner, is probably getting ready to serve guests dinner.” Cage shook his head. “She’s got a full house right now.”

“I’ll have to stop by and talk to her tomorrow then. Do you know her well?”

“She and my mama go way back. And fair warning: Grace’ll talk your ear off about Ironwood and Oak Lynn. Her family’s one of Roselea’s oldest settlers. Knew John James and CaryAnne.”

“John James was a Civil War hero, right?” Dani stared wistfully as they drove past Oak Lynn. Cage wondered how she’d react to seeing the inside of the restored home.

“Yep. His father built Ironwood, but John James was the one who kept the plantation going during the reconstruction.”

“When did the house go into such disrepair?” Dani asked.

“Slow decline,” Cage said. “CaryAnne was tough and handled the place pretty well after her father died, but she didn’t have anyone to help when she got too old.”

“And what happened when she died?”

“Bank took the estate. Some family bought it and tried to make a go of it, but it never was the same. By the time the church bought it in 1971, it was in pretty bad shape,” Cage said. “They applied some band-aids, used it for staff and storage until fifteen years ago. Then they started renting.”

“Well, at least they were smart enough to protect the house as best they could,” Dani said. “Having so many of its original accents is actually pretty rare.”

“I’ve always been surprised people didn’t tear the house apart looking for the secret room.” Cage grinned at her, enjoying the shock flickering over her flushed face.

“What?”

“Ironwood’s local claim to fame,” he said, still smiling. “When the Civil War started, John James and his father believed the South would lose and fall onto hard times. When the Yankees raided the house, they came up mostly empty. But when the war was over, and John James came home, the family had plenty of silver and valuables to use for currency. Everyone believed they hid it somewhere, and supposedly, when he was an old man and reliving his glory days, John James bragged about the secret room to Grace’s grandfather.”

Dani’s wide eyes made him laugh. “John James was an old man then. Probably filling her grandpa’s head with stories. Of course, when she was old and dying, CaryAnne talked about the secret room, too. Grace’s family helped take care of her. I’ve always heard she wasn’t in her right mind then, so who knows how many tall tales she spun.”

“There’s always a bit of truth in people’s rantings.” Dani’s speech flew again. “And most of those old houses have hidden rooms and hidey-holes. I restored a home in Illinois that had two hidden rooms connected by the narrowest staircase I’ve ever seen. The house went back to the 1840s, and we’re pretty sure it was a spot on the Underground Railroad.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“The people who built the house were abolitionists. Her letters hinted at helping during the war, but she was very careful with what she said. Location of the house fits as well.” She shifted in her seat as she spoke, clasping her hands together. “I’ll never forget what it was like discovering that stairway and realizing what I’d found. There’s no way to describe the adrenaline rush.”

“I bet it was a major mark on your résumé,” Cage said.

“Who cares about that? All I wanted to do was share the house and its history with everyone within shouting distance.”

He was starting to like this fast-talking Yankee. “I’m really glad to hear you say that. I have to admit, when I heard someone from up North bought Ironwood, I was afraid. Lee spoke highly of you, but a lot of Northerners we’ve had down here only see dollar signs in our history.”

“Not me. When I walk into an old house, it’s as if the walls themselves are talking to me. The place has its own energy, its own story, its own life. And I can see and touch it. Hear it in my head.” She stopped abruptly and glanced at him. “I’m sure that makes no sense.”

Cage felt slightly out of breath from the cadence of her words and the emotions behind them. A lightness he wasn’t used to surrounded him.

“That makes perfect sense to me, actually. Because that’s exactly what history is.” He glanced over to smile at Dani. Surprise lingered in her expression, but she smiled back.

“Thank you.”

His neck burned. “So, you going to search for Ironwood’s secret hideout? I should warn you, the church and most likely the historical foundation have been pretty thorough.”

“Maybe they didn’t know what they were looking for,” she answered. “There’s a reason why they call them secret rooms. And both CaryAnne and John James spoke about it–decades apart.”

“You wouldn’t make a very good cop.” Cage tried not to laugh at her. “John James was old when he told that story, and he’d probably told it to CaryAnne a hundred times. She was Daddy’s little girl–so the story goes–so of course she believed him. And she didn’t start talking about the room until she was half-senile.”

“You just have no imagination.”

“I have plenty of imagination. But also common sense.”

“I don’t think I’ll talk to you anymore.” She crossed her arms, but her tone was light.

“That’s too bad, because there are other juicy stories about John James. Probably all a bunch of baloney, but I’d have shared them with you.”

She pinched her lips shut. Cage snickered, turning the car onto Main Street. He pointed to a grand Victorian. “Annabelle’s. We’ll check and see if she has openings, get you set up there. Should have thought to bring your things, damn it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought you weren’t speaking to me anymore?”

“I’m making an exception since you’re blabbering and not making sense. Why would I need to be set up at Annabelle’s?”

Cage carefully backed his car into an open spot. “You planning on sleeping in your car?”

“No. I’m planning on sleeping in my house.”

“You what?” Cage’s hoped he hadn’t heard her right.

“I’m staying at Ironwood.”

“You don’t have a bed.” Cage supposed he should offer his bed to her. Without him in it, of course. The back of his damned neck heated up again.

“But there’s a couch. And electricity. And running water. With a clean bathroom–thank you for that, by the way.”

“You know there’s still bones in the basement.”

“Really, Sherlock?” She nudged his arm. Her lotion smelled like peach blossoms. “I had no clue.”

He gritted his teeth. One minute this woman had him laughing, and the next he was considering breaking every code of decency and shaking the shit out of her.

“It’s not a crime scene, you said yourself. I’m not going to be going into the basement, anyway.”

“But you are going to be looking for the secret room. For Christ’s sake, Dani.”

Her pink cheeks made the freckles on her nose stand out. “Don’t mock me. If there’s a secret room, it’s probably connected to the library, which I can’t get into right now. But when I get the keys, you can damn well bet I’m searching. My house. I can search all I want.”

She looked out the window. “Let’s eat at Sallie’s Diner. Lee said they’ve got the best burger in town, and I’m dying for something ridiculously fattening.” She stepped out of the car. “God, it’s almost seven o’clock. How can it still be this miserably hot?”

Cage followed suit and hurried to her side, jittery with tension. Jaymee might be working, and it had been a while since they’d seen each other. “You don’t want to eat at Sallie’s your first night. All they’ve got is burgers and fries. Let’s go down to Smokey’s. Get you some Mississippi barbeque.”

“Barbeque is messy,” Dani said. “And I want some comfort food.” She headed for the diner, her pale blue sundress swishing around her knees. “But if you want barbeque, I can eat by myself. I’m an independent woman, you know.”

He might throttle this woman yet tonight. “And I’m a good Southern host. I can’t let the Yankee eat alone her first night in town.” He hurried around Dani to open the door and prayed Jaymee wasn’t working.

“I
still don’t
think you need to sleep here tonight.” Cage unlocked the front door and turned on the light in the foyer. “You don’t even have a pillow or blankets.”

“Yes I do,” Dani said. “They’re in one of my bags. I planned ahead.”

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. Of course she had.

Grumbling under his breath, he moved throughout the house, flipping on lights. She followed, the sound of her shoes a pleasantly annoying blip in the usual silence of Ironwood.

“I’ll bring your things into the parlor then.”

“I can do that.”

He shot her a look and disappeared into the grand ballroom where Dani’s belongings had been unloaded.

“I wasn’t able to bring more than a couple weeks’ worth of clothes on the plane, some tools, a few references for work, and toiletries. But they’ll do.” She took the bag with the pillow and blankets from Cage and set about making up a bed. “You don’t mind that I’m sleeping on the couch, do you? It’s yours, so I probably should have asked.”

Cage raised an eyebrow. “Imagine that. And no, I don’t mind. I mind you crashing in here without anyone else.”

“What did you think I would be doing when I actually moved in?”

“I just assumed you’d wait until the place was more livable. If I’d known you were planning on staying the night, I would have stocked the fridge. Brought over some dishes.”

“That’s really kind of you. But I wouldn’t have expected it.” She looked around. “I saw pictures of what the place was like when you first started working here. You’ve done an amazing job, and if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be able to stay here tonight. So thank you.”

Cage’s eyes locked on hers. She held his gaze, and he was suddenly aware of the thinness of her dress, the way it hung just right on her curvy hips.

“You’re welcome.” He edged toward the door. “It’s been a long day, and it’ll be an early morning tomorrow. I’m sure you’re tired, too.”

“I’m exhausted, actually.”

“So I’ll say goodnight.” He turned to leave and then stopped, digging into the pocket of his frayed jeans. “Almost forgot. Your set of keys. The exterior ones, anyway.”

He dropped them into her outstretched hand without making contact. “You want mine, too?”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s your house now.”

“I’ll feel better knowing you’ve got them.”

He backed out of the room, rubbing his neck. “All right then. Goodnight. I’ll be just across the yard in the carriage house if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Lock the doors, of course.” Cage’s feet thudded across the marble as he hurried outside.