Sweet Caroline's Keeper by Beverly Barton Read Free Book Online Page A

everyone's insistence that she not make too much out of what Preston had written, Caroline found that she simply could not let it go. She had discussed the matter with Lyle and Roz, but the minute they saw how upset the revelation made her, they suggested that perhaps Preston had been paranoid for some reason. After all, the police had thoroughly investigated her stepfather's death, hadn't they? And when she had shown the letter to Fletcher, he'd been shocked and at first as convinced as she that someone had murdered his father because he possessed information that could harm someone else. Perhaps someone very powerful. After all, Preston had belonged to a prestigious Washington organization and wielded a great deal of power as second in command at Peacekeepers International. Wasn't it possible that some foreign government had ordered his assassination? Fletcher had immediately contacted Gavin Robbins, who had, as a favor to Fletcher and her, gone straight to Ellison Penn, the head honcho of the Peacekeepers fifteen years ago and now.
    "Ellison has assured me that Preston wasn't involved in anything dangerous for the Peacekeepers at the time of his death," Gavin had said. "And the organization conducted their own private investigation and came to the same conclusion as the police—a botched robbery had resulted in the murder of Preston Shaw."
    "But what about this letter?" Caroline had waved the handwritten missive under Gavin's nose.
    "Caroline, honey, why do you want to dredge up the past this way?" Gavin had asked. "Ellison and I both remember how odd Preston had been acting the last few weeks of his life. Ellison thought he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown because his marriage was in trouble. If Preston's mental state was shaky, then he very well could have become paranoid."
    "I do remember the last couple of times I saw Father he acted rather peculiar," Fletcher had said. "He seemed distracted."
    "I believe that what you both have told me only adds to the evidence in this letter that Preston feared for his life." Caroline had paused, looked at the two men, saw skepticism on their faces and then continued, "And he was afraid for Mother and Fletcher and me."
    "Even if what you suspect is true—and I don't think it is—after all these years, there would be no way to prove it," Gavin had said. "No way to find Preston's murderer. Besides, why put yourself and Fletcher through hell all over again?"
    "That's where you're wrong," she'd told him. "I have a key that can unlock the evidence Preston left as an insurance policy to protect his family."
    "Perhaps Caroline is right." Fletcher had put his arm around her shoulders. "If there's any way we can find Father's murderer, then I'm willing to relive that hell, to go back and rehash what happened that night." He had looked point-blank at Caroline. "What about you, kiddo, do you think you can relive what happened? Maybe you'd better think about it before you open that old can of worms."
    Caroline had thought about it. All last night and all day today. And no matter how many times she went over things, she came to the same conclusion. She believed what Preston had written in the letter. Her stepfather had been the victim of cold-blooded, premeditated murder. The bearded man in the shadows had been an assassin. And she had practically witnessed the crime.
    Then why didn't he kill you? She had asked herself this question a million times and had yet to come up with a logical answer. If he had been merely a burglar or if he had been a hired killer, why would he have balked at killing a child if it meant protecting himself?
    If she could find the lock that the key opened, she might well find the answer to this question as well as all the others surrounding Preston's death. Unfortunately Fletcher didn't recognize the key and she had no earthly idea where to start looking.
    Caroline liked parties well enough, although she preferred quiet evenings at home. She loved sitting on her