They were standing in the kitchen, waiting for the French press coffee to be finished. The scent of the coffee filled the room.
“Maybe you’re right,” Cora said. She was always so quick to help, sometimes without thinking things through. “Like it or not, we’re involved now. I just wanted to give him a place to stay, to keep him safe. Nobody is going to find him here, right? Who’s going to come seeking a young man with a group of crafting women? We’re protecting him. That’s a good thing.”
Jane crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. “I don’t know. I’m not as sold as you are. He was getting a little clingy with Gracie. She was annoyed with him one day. I told her there were more fish in the sea.”
“Just because he was a little clingy, or insecure, doesn’t mean that he abducted his girlfriend or killed his best friend, right?” Cora said, after a moment, as if trying to convince herself. “It’s more likely he’s in danger.”
Jane reached over and began to press the coffee. “Oh God, I need this,” she said as she pressed the handle down.
“How is London?” Cora asked.
“She’s upset and not feeling well, but she doesn’t have strep or anything like that. One of her pediatrician’s daughters babysits. I don’t really know the girl, but I know her mom. She’s staying with London now and this afternoon during our river walk,” Jane said. She reached over and slid a mug toward Cora and one toward her. She poured the steaming brew into the mugs.
Cora stirred almond milk into her coffee. “Any word about Gracie?”
A flash of worry and fear came over Jane’s face, which made Cora sorry she asked. “No,” she said. “Nothing at all. They’re still searching for her. In fact, they were searching for her when they found Henry, from my understanding.”
“Where did they find him?” Cora asked, but one of the crafters, Maddy, wandered into the kitchen.
“I thought I smelled coffee,” she said, and smiled.
“Please help yourself,” Cora said, opening a cupboard and fetching a mug from it.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Are you enjoying the class?” Cora asked.
“Yes, it’s interesting. I’ve never been into paper dolls, but this has been fun. An interesting group of women, too,” Maddy said as she poured.
Jane glanced at Cora. That’s exactly what they wanted to hear. The paper doll class was a good way for the group to relax and get to know one another. Tomorrow, they had the nature walk to collect items to use in their crafting. Some things had already been gathered and prepared—like the reeds they’d be using for basket making. But Marianne intended to show them the same plants growing in the wild, along with some of the plants the local Cherokee used to dye the baskets.
“That’s good to hear,” Cora said.
Maddy took a sip of her black coffee and rocked back and forth on her feet. “I’m a big fan of your blog,” she said. “I hear you’re teaching a blogging class soon.”
Cora nodded. “Yes, I’ll be teaching at the Big Island Beach Retreat and looking forward to it.”
“I might try to get there. I have a blog, but it’s not going anywhere. Maybe your class would help,” she said.
“I can take a look at it for you,” Cora said. “I’d be happy to give you a few pointers.”
“That would be awesome,” she replied. Her face lit with enthusiasm.
Later, Cora wandered through the paper doll class and snapped photos for her blog. Some of the paper dolls were extraordinary. Most were still unfinished. Judging from the laughter and chatter in the room, it had become more social than crafty. Let it be, Cora thought, as she took a photo of a laughing crafter as she glued fairy wings on her doll.
Not all of the women had chosen to create fairy paper dolls. Cora took some photos of a group of dolls that resembled little Russian nesting dolls. The crafter had used fabric and paint to create four dolls. So charming.
Another crafter had used the Cinderella fairy tale as an inspiration—but it was a dark Cinderella with a sugar skull face.
Liv, the Goth girl, had crafted the most interesting dolls. Her dolls had faces pasted in from a magazine and wore sexy corsets and slit skirts. Their wings were angelic, almost translucent, giving the otherwise sexy dolls an air of whimsy.
Another woman hand-painted a Victorian doll and used bits and pieces of real lace on her dress and oversized hat. Someone else had created a simpler vintage-inspired group of dolls. Not hand-painted, just simpler, handcrafted paper dolls. It almost broke Cora’s heart to view them—they were so delicate and sweet. This clearly was a crafter with some paper doll memories.
Cora felt a wave of excitement. This was what she had imagined when she envisioned holding craft retreats for women. She knew that crafting was not only fun, but it was also healing. Even if you weren’t healing from major trauma in your life, just giving yourself time and space to make things allowed a growth of spirit—and given everything that had happened lately, that’s exactly what they all needed.
Chapter 12
The Indigo River was anything but Indigo. It was, like most rivers, mostly brownish green, but then in spots sparkled translucently over rocks and through narrow passages. The scent of wet earth and fresh flowers and greens filled the air. Usually, the sight would cheer Jane, but today she was thinking of Gracie, who hung like a heavy cloud in Jane’s heart and mind as she trudged along the riverbank.
The group of women walked quietly along the edges of the river as Jane led them to the banks she had scouted out earlier. Marianne pointed out the reeds growing alongside the bank.
“Those reeds are the exact ones we’ll be using in our basket class tomorrow,” she said.
“I’ve seen your baskets,” Maddy said. “It’s amazing what you do with those reeds,” she said, and smiled. “I can’t believe you make such beautiful baskets from those things.”
Marianne nodded as a large bird flew overhead and screeched loudly. She flinched.
“Are you okay?” Jane asked her.
“I don’t like hawks,” she said. “They creep me out.” She turned away and muttered something.
Jane stopped at the spot where they’d gotten permission to dig. Each woman had a bucket and a small spade.
“The idea behind this retreat is that we don’t need to buy expensive supplies in order to be crafters. Often, we can find what we need in our own homes, or outside. But it’s a good idea to ask the owners of the property before you take anything,” Jane said. A breeze picked up. The trees shimmied and the water rippled as several women laughed.
“I was in trouble once for helping myself to some pinecones,” one woman said. “Turns out you’re not allowed to take anything from national parklands.”
More laughter.
“I guess not,” Marianne said.
Jane crouched down and the women gathered around her. “About eighty percent of the earth’s surface contains clay.”
“I had no idea,” Sheila said. “I guess I just never thought about it.” Her face was lined with graceful lines, but Jane wondered if they were premature. She knew that Sheila’s daughter had a surprising onslaught of epilepsy a few years ago and was not doing well with it. Hence, Donna had stayed behind for the river walk, along with Cora, who was updating her blog with photos of the paper doll class.
“Does it need to be processed or something? Or do you just take it from the ground?” one crafter asked.
“Clay straight from the ground does need to be processed,” Jane replied, setting down her bucket and burrowing her spade into the wet clay. “It’ll need to be sieved to remove rocks, twigs, and roots.”
“Oh, so that’s what those screens in our kits are for, right?”
Jane nodded. “Sieving can be done either of two ways: The clay can be pulverized when dry and then sieved; or dried, slaked down in water, and then sieved. The finer the mesh used, the smoother your clay will be. I suggest using a 50-mesh screen, although a 30- or 80-mesh will do. Don’t go
any finer than 80-mesh. Once the clay has been cleaned and slaked down, you will want to bring it back to a working consistency, which we will do tomorrow at some point.”
The women got to work digging clay from the riverbank.
Jane’s cell phone blared into the peaceful scene. Jane jumped slightly, causing Marianne to look up at her.
“Yes,” Jane said into her cell.
“It’s Louise,” her babysitter said. “I just wanted to check in with you and let you know that everything is fine. London’s fever broke about thirty minutes ago.”
“Is she sleeping?”
“Yes, she’s still sleeping. This is the easiest babysitting job I’ve ever had,” she said.
“I imagine. Well, thanks for checking in. I should only be another hour or so.”
“No worries. Take your time. I’ve got a good book and music to listen to. I’m fine,” the young woman said.
Jane slipped her phone back into her pocket.
“Are you always so jumpy when the phone rings?” Marianne said, standing up.
No, only when my daughter’s babysitter has been abducted and her friend has been killed.
“It was my daughter’s sitter,” Jane said. “First time we’ve used her. It’s a bit nerve-wracking.”
She wasn’t sure if the news about Henry had been released yet and didn’t want to be the harbinger of bad news during the craft retreat.
“Ah yes. I have a couple of little ones. They are staying with my sister-in-law this weekend in Asheville. Going to some museums and such,” Marianne said, and smiled.
“How lovely,” Jane said distractedly, filling up her mud bucket.
Marianne patted her mud down and scooped a little more into the bucket.
Jane found herself wishing she and London had family around, for times like these when they needed extra help. But they didn’t. It was just Cora, Jane, and London. And evidently Neil. At some point. She shoved thoughts of Neil out of her mind, for now.
Ruby walked over to her. “I filled up my bucket and I found some really nice stones over there,” she said, and pointed behind her.
“Yes, I forgot to tell you all,” Jane said. “If you find some smooth river stones, pick up a few for your rock-painting class.”
“Have we heard anything about Gracie?” Ruby asked in a lowered voice. Even so, Marianne heard. She lifted her head in their direction. The woman must have exceptional hearing, Jane thought.
“Nothing,” she said to Ruby.
“I found something!” a woman squealed, pointing between some rocks on the edge of the river.
“I’ll get it,” a taller woman beside her said, and leaned over to move the rock. She plucked up a necklace lodged beside it. When she held it up and brushed off the dirt, there was a glint of ruby. It was a round pendant with a ruby slipper etched into it.
“Look,” she said. “It says something. ‘You’re my home, Love, Paul.’”
Jane felt the air escape from her body. She wanted to scream or gasp, but nothing came to her. Cold swept over her body.
“Paul?” Ruby said. “Ain’t that the name of Gracie’s boyfriend?”
Chapter 13
Cora pushed the publish button. Another blog post done. It had turned out better than she expected—the crafters at this retreat were a talented, interesting group. And their paper dolls showed it.
She expected the group to return from the river walk any minute now. She stood up and stretched. Luna lifted her head, blinked at her, and placed it back down on the couch pillow where she was nestled.
Kildare House was so quiet—the only other people currently in it were Donna, who was napping, and Paul, shut up in his room.
Poor Paul. He seemed so bereft. Would he ever get over losing his best friend and possibly his girlfriend all in the same week? Cora shivered. The incidents had certainly created a specter of doom over the retreat. She wasn’t certain how many of the crafters knew about the news.
She wondered if she should check on Paul. On second thought, the police said they had given him something to relax him. Perhaps it was best not to disturb him.
She stood and took a deep breath. She reveled in the silence. She didn’t mind the happy chatter of the guests, but silence was good, too.
Sirens wailed in the distance. This was not a common sound in Indigo Gap. Cora left her attic apartment and headed downstairs. The sirens came even closer.
As she walked down the steps, the crafters were entering through the front door, excited and chattering as they returned from their walk and watching whatever was happening outside.
“We’re going to need to take the police back out there,” Jane said to Ruby.
“Police?” Cora said. “What’s going on?”
Jane held up a muddy, but still glittering necklace. “We found this in the river.” Her blue eyes were wide with excitement and, perhaps, a tinge of fear.
“We think it belonged to Gracie,” Ruby chimed in. “It has Paul’s name on the back.”
Cora’s heart skipped a beat. “What? How?”
“We found it when we were digging clay,” Jane said.
“I called the cops,” Ruby said.
That explained why there were police cars with loud sirens in front of Kildare House. And it explained the excitement and agitation among some of her guests.
Cora moved through the crowd gathered in the foyer and spilling out of the front door and onto to the porch. She spotted Officer Glass walking up her sidewalk.
“Can you please shut the sound off of those things?” Cora said. “You are waking up the birds, for God’s sake.”
“Sorry, Cora. 9-1-1 protocol.”
“9-1-1? There’s no emergency here. We’ve found a necklace,” she said.
“What?” he said, not hearing her above the sirens.
She rolled her eyes and pointed to the sirens. “I can’t talk over that thing.”
He walked back to the car and cut off the siren.
“Now, what seems to be the problem?” he said, with a note of impatience in his voice.
“We were down by the river, digging for clay,” Jane said, coming up from behind Cora.
“And?” he said.
“We found this necklace, which we think belonged to Gracie.”
“Gracie Wyke?” His face dropped.
“Yes, I remember her wearing it and it has an inscription on the back,” Jane said, holding it up. The sun sparkled against its colors. He grabbed it and read the inscription.
“I’m going to need to get Detective Brodsky over here,” he said, turning to his partner. “Can you call him?”
“Sure thing,” the man said.
“We’re going to have to go back down to the river,” he said to them. “And I’m sure Brodsky will need to speak to whoever found the necklace.”
“Glass.” The officer came up to him and handed him the phone.
“Yes,” he said into it.
Cora glanced at Jane. “Can we ever have a nice, calm, relaxing retreat?”
“Apparently not,” Jane said, folding her arms. “But maybe this will help find Gracie. I wonder if she was wearing this when she disappeared.”
“You saw her the day before. Do you remember?” Cora asked.
“I can’t say specifically,” Jane replied. “What I remember is that she seemed to wear it all the time.” Her voice wavered. Her cheeks were taut with stress.
“What would she be doing down by that river?” Cora asked nobody in particular.
“A lot of the young people go down there to party, make out, and whatever,” Ruby said.
“But she wasn’t exactly young. I mean it’s the high schoolers who party down there,” Cora said. “She was a responsible young college student, a wannabe lawyer.”
“Well, just because they found the necklace there doesn’t mean she was there. It could have come from anywhere upstream,” Ruby pointed out. “That river is full of tricky currents.”
The women stood silently while
Glass was on the phone speaking with Brodsky. His posture tightened. His shoulders rose.
“You ladies aren’t planning on going back down there, are you?” Glass said after his phone call was finished. His face seemed drained of any color.
“No, we have plans and permission to walk up on the parklands tomorrow,” Cora said. “Why?”
“Brodsky would like to meet whoever picked up the necklace down there at the river. But he asked that the rest of you stay away,” Officer Glass said.
“I don’t think we have any reason to go there, in any case,” Cora said.
“It’s going to be treated as a crime scene. The river is going to be dragged,” he said.
“Dragged? What does that mean?” Cora said. “They think—”
He nodded. “Just procedure. But it certainly looks like a possibility.”
“What?” Ruby said. “Just because we found a necklace?”
“I’m not going to comment on a continuing investigation of this nature,” he said, with his gaze moving from Ruby, to Jane, and finally to Cora. “No matter who’s asking.”
Cora’s stomach heaved and flipped. She knew enough to know the cops wouldn’t use the resources needed to drag the river bottom just because one necklace was found. They must have found something else. She swallowed hard to keep from getting sick. Poor Gracie. Poor, poor Gracie.
Chapter 14
Because Maddy had found the necklace, the police asked her to go to the station to answer a few more questions. Cora and Jane, surrounded by the crafters, watched as she rode off in the police car. Thank goodness the police were moving from the front of the house—not without notice. Edgar Thorncraft, president of the local historical commission, and a man who lived in the neighborhood, walked up to them.
“Ladies,” he said. “Everything okay?” He was dressed in his usual sweater vest, bow-tie ensemble.
“It will be,” Cora said. “How are you, Edgar?”
Jane turned to the women and gestured for them to move along into the house.
“I’m fine,” he said. Cora knew that the recent loss of Sarah Waters, his longtime girlfriend and school librarian, weighed heavy on him. They’d chatted about it before and she felt sorry for Edgar, but not sorry enough to forgive his sometimes haughty attitude about all things historical.
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