No Charm Intended
Page 1
Books by Mollie Cox Bryan
The Cora Crafts Mystery series
DEATH AMONG THE DOILIES
NO CHARM INTENDED
The Cumberland Creek Mystery series
SCRAPBOOK OF SECRETS
SCRAPPED
SCRAPPY SUMMER E-Novella
DEATH OF AN IRISH DIVA
A CRAFTY CHRISTMAS
SCRAPPILY EVER AFTER E-Novella
SCRAPBOOK OF THE DEAD
No Charm Intended
Mollie Cox Bryan
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Books by Mollie Cox Bryan
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Epilogue
Pressing Flowers
DEATH AMONG THE DOILIES
Teaser chapter
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2017 by Mollie Cox Bryan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher, and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-0466-5
First Kensington Mass Market Edition: May 2017
eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0467-2
eISBN-10: 1-4967-0467-3
First Kensington Electronic Edition: May 2017
For my grandfather, Paul Eugene Carpenter,
a man I knew for only eight years,
but whose influence and love
have stayed with me all of my life.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my readers for coming along with me and my new Cora Crafts Mysteries. I love hearing from you and appreciate you more than I can express.
Special thanks go to my beta readers Amber Benson, Jennifer Feller, and Mary Sproles Martin. I don’t know what I’d do without you giving your time so freely to look over early drafts.
I’d also like to thank writer Reece Hirsch for answering my questions about the Darknet. Thanks to the Museum of the Cherokee Indian in Cherokee, North Carolina, for inspiration and help in understanding the tradition and artistry of Cherokee basket making. If you ever have a chance to visit, take it. This is an amazing museum.
In addition, I’d like to thank my editor, Martin Biro, my publicist, Morgan Elwell, and the whole Kensington crew for the hard work they do every day. I’m so honored to be a part of the Kensington family.
A deep heartfelt appreciation goes out to my friends and family who have lifted and supported me during a particularly rough time in my personal life. I didn’t know how I’d get through each day, let alone write the rest of this book. Your encouraging Facebook messages, e-mails, and cards worked a special magic. Thank you hardly seems enough.
As always, thanks to my husband and daughters for all of the encouragement over the years.
Yours,
Mollie
Chapter 1
I kidnapped her.
Cora blinked and reread the message. It had been sent early this morning. She hadn’t checked her phone all day. Between looking over supplies for the next craft retreat, making certain Kildare House was spotless and ready for the arrival of her teachers and crafters, and writing her next blog post, checking her own messages had slipped through the cracks of a very hectic day.
No name was attached to the text.
Her heart raced as she clicked and scrolled and tried to find out who sent such a message to her.
Could this have been an errant text? A complete mistake? Or, had one of her previous clients tracked her down in her new home?
Switching states and getting new phone numbers sometimes just wasn’t enough. She had been warned. But she tried to sort through the Rolodex in her mind of clients this could possibly be—and didn’t come up with a thing. Did anybody ever mention kidnapping to her?
Not in so many words. But parents often took children from other parents—this she knew. Cora remembered one case where a grandmother stepped in and took her grandson. The mother hadn’t realized it for a few days—she’d been on a heroin binge. It was best for the child to be removed from her care, but the grandmother still had faced kidnapping charges. You had to follow the letter of the law when you took a child from his or her home, even if it was a bad home.
Cora sighed and vowed to break out the thumb drives where she stored all her ex-clients as soon as she had a moment.
“Okay, calm down,” she said out loud. Luna’s ears twitched and she glanced at Cora as if to say, “Are you talking to me?” The cat blinked in disgust when she realized Cora wasn’t speaking to her.
It was probably a wrong number. It probably was not an ex-client. It had been almost a year now that she held her post as a counselor at the Sunny Street Women’s Shelter in Pittsburgh. Surely none of them would contact her at this point. Cora’s life was now in Indigo Gap, North Carolina, in the craft retreat business. This was her new life.
Still, the text chilled her.
Kidnap?
Should she tell someone? The police?
And what would she say? “I’ve got this weird text message . . .” As if she hadn’t already had a snootful of the local police.
No, she’d let it rest for now. It wasn’t the first strange text message she’d ever gotten. Besides, she had enough to do to prepare for the Spring Fling Retreat. Her teachers were already here. The retreaters were arriving tomorrow.
Cora glanced at her watch. She was already a little behind. She allowed herself one quick check in the mirror. Her 1970s blue minidress suited her more than she thought it would, and the white go-go boots wer
e perfect. She smoothed her pink lipstick on her lips, ran a comb through her red curls, and she was ready for dinner with her guest teachers.
She opened her door and walked to the half flight of stairs to the third floor, where she almost bumped into Jane.
“What are you doing here?” Cora said.
“I have weird news.” Jane’s eyes were wide and she grabbed on to Cora’s arm.
“What?” Cora said, thinking this retreat could not be any worse than the last one, where a teacher slept with her students and a murder happened right down the street. But the look in her best friend and business partner’s eyes gave her pause.
“Remember Gracie?”
“Gracie who?” The name seemed familiar, but Cora wasn’t making the connection.
“She babysat London a few times. She’s her friend’s nanny, remember?”
“Oh yes,” Cora said. “We better get going. Can this wait?” she said, pulling away from Jane and walking down the hall.
“No,” Jane said with urgency, grabbing her arm, stopping her. “You need to know this.”
“What is it? Spill it. C’mon, woman,” she said.
“She’s missing,” Jane said.
“Missing?” Cora’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
“She was supposed to babysit London tonight, so I called Jillie’s mom because she never showed up,” she said. “She’s gone.”
“Do you mean she took off?”
“Jillie’s mom is calling the police. She says she’s not been there all day. Her stuff is still there. Her car is still there. Everything. So I either have to bring London with us tonight or stay at home.”
“I don’t think London will be a problem—just bring her along,” Cora said after a moment. The child was the most well-behaved child Cora had ever known—a bit precocious, but manageable.
Cora stopped in her tracks, remembering the strange text. It wouldn’t have anything to do with the missing girl, would it? She didn’t even really know her. Why would someone send her a text?
“What’s wrong?” Jane said.
“I just remembered this weird text I’ve gotten,” Cora said.
“Hey, Cora. Hey, Jane. You about ready? We’re starving!” Ruby said as she walked up the stairs toward them. Sitting in the foyer just below them was a group of crafting teachers. Cora took in the foyer of Kildare House, a large, old-fashioned room. The Victorians knew how to welcome guests, especially rich Victorians.
Cora smiled. “We’re here. Everybody ready?”
London was also sitting in the foyer and peeked up as they came toward her. She hopped up out of the chair and ran to Cora, who scooped her up in her arms. Jane’s daughter had seen way too much change in her short life and yet seemed to have kept it together. Cora was in awe of her.
“Are you ready to eat?” Cora said.
“Yep,” London replied, sliding out of Cora’s arms. “I’m in the mood for pizza.”
“You’re always in the mood for pizza,” Jane said.
“No pizza tonight,” Cora said as she walked toward the door, the group following close behind her. When she opened the door, she gasped—Officer Glass was standing there, about ready to ring the doorbell. They’d gotten to know him very well during the last craft retreat, when he was investigating a local murder.
“Can I help you?” Cora asked. “We were just leaving.”
“Hello, ladies,” he said. “Cora, can we speak for a moment?”
“Is this important? As I said, we’re leaving for dinner. We have reservations,” she replied.
“It’s about a text message,” he said with a lowered voice.
“What? How did—”
“There were several sent today and the digital forensics team sent me over here to discuss it with you,” he said.
Jane sighed. “Good Lord, what have you gotten yourself into?” she whispered.
“Nothing!”
“It’s getting late,” Jane said.
Cora took in the group. They were a famished, weary lot. “Why don’t you all go ahead. I’ll meet you there.” Despite her own hunger pangs, she supposed it was the right thing to do—after all, she couldn’t help wanting to help, even if it was the local police, who seemed to be always under her feet.
Chapter 2
As Cora watched the group leave, her heart sank. She thought this Wednesday evening dinner before the retreaters arrived was important to establishing ground rules and camaraderie among the teachers. How would it look if she didn’t show up?
“What is it, Officer Glass?” she asked, hoping to cut to the chase.
“First, let me ask if you did indeed receive this text message,” he said, holding up a phone with the same text she’d gotten earlier.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve gotten it. Actually, I just got it. I hadn’t had a chance to check my messages earlier.”
He slipped the phone back into his pocket.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“We’ve gotten about twelve reports about it, but there are more recipients than those who reported it,” he stated.
“How did you know who the recipients are? I mean, I tried to see who sent it and—I don’t know—there was nothing there,” she said.
He eyed the area, making a big show of searching. Was he trying to impress her? What was he up to? They were still standing on the front porch and Cora’s stomach was still empty.
“Can we go inside?” he asked.
She dreaded the thought. She and Officer Glass had coffee together once and she really thought the married man was coming on to her. He made her uncomfortable. Where was his partner? Didn’t they always travel in twos?
“Okay,” she said, “but I really have to get going.”
“I know,” he said. “This won’t take long.”
She decided to stand at the banister, hoping he would take the hint they would not be sitting down and getting comfortable. But he walked into the sitting area and sat on the red velvet couch, surrounded by her upscale craft décor.
She sighed. What could this be about? Why was he insisting on taking up her time over an obvious prank text message?
“We’re investigating a possible kidnapping,” he said.
She gasped. But what could this possibly have to do with her?
Glass fished around in his pockets and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. “Do you know this young woman?”
Cora sat next to him. “Yes,” she said. “She babysat London a few times.” Cora scanned the photo of Gracie. It was just as Jane had feared: Gracie was missing. Maybe kidnapped. Cora’s stomach tightened.
“How about this person?” he asked. He showed her a photo of a young man. Skinny, pimple-faced but handsome, the man had a cocky grin plastered on his face.
“Yes, I think this is her boyfriend, isn’t it?” she said. He’d hung around Jane’s a bit helping her with odd jobs and painting her kitchen. Seemed like a nice young man.
“We’re not sure,” he replied. “He claims he is.”
They sat in silence a few beats.
“I don’t understand why you’re here. What does any of this have to do with me?” Cora asked.
“You received the same text message from the same source as this other group of people,” he said.
“How do you know all this?”
“We’re just forming this unbelievable cybercrimes unit. I don’t really understand the technospeak,” he explained. “Anyway, one person brought their phone in and the unit was able to get a group of names from that. They can also tell us the text came from the same source.”
“Him?” she said, and pointed at the boyfriend.
“No,” he responded. “I wish it were that easy.”
“I do know that Gracie was supposed to babysit London tonight and she didn’t show up. So Jane called and Gracie’s employer said she was missing,” she said, glancing at her phone to see the time. Late! She was very late.
“Is there anything else?�
� she said, standing, rubbing her hands across her skirt.
“Why would Gracie have your number?” the officer asked as he stood up.
“I have no idea. Unless it was to use as an emergency when she was sitting with London,” Cora said, not wanting to be impolite, but at the same time her stomach growled loudly. How embarrassing.
“I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from dinner,” he said. “Please just don’t leave town. We may have more questions.”
“I’m hosting a four-day retreat weekend. I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him as she attempted to usher him out. As if she’d have anything to add to this investigation. She really didn’t know the young woman and certainly didn’t know her boyfriend.
“Good to know you’ll be around,” he said with a warmth and familiarity in his voice that made Cora cringe. Why couldn’t he just be businesslike? Matter-of-fact? “Do you need a ride downtown? I’m heading back to the station.”
“No,” she said a little too quickly. “Thanks so much for asking me, but I really need to walk.”
He glanced away, sheepish, then back at her. “Okay.”
She watched as he opened the car door and gave a little wave as he drove away.
Cora grabbed her purse and made a run for downtown.
As she walked toward the diner, she thought about the oddness of her text message, then the even odder appearance of the police, showing up right away and asking her about it. It was scary how easily the police could trace people—even scarier when she thought about criminals being able to do the same thing.
As she drew closer to the diner, she stopped to take in the little town of Indigo Gap, so lovely, historic, and quaint, built right along a ridge in the surrounding mountains that dipped and rolled all around the historically accurate streetlights, cobblestone streets, and pretty storefronts. She saw the steep gabled roof of the home where a woman and her ex-husband were murdered a few months back, a harsh reminder that even in a place like Indigo Gap, darkness existed. She whispered a wish that they would find Gracie soon.