Three Days to Forever (A Mac Faraday Mystery Book 9)

by Lauren Carr

  “It’s good for your heart to get a jolt once in a while.” The muscular six-foot-four teenager slipped into the seat across from Joshua. He was dressed in his ski suit and boots, but, judging by how he was glancing around for the server, he intended to eat breakfast before hitting the sloops. “I thought you were going to see Mac.”

  “I’m on my way.” Joshua thumbed through the log on his phone to find Cameron’s call. “I assume you’re on your way to go skiing.”

  “That’s why I came,” Donny said. “That, snowboarding, and the snow bunnies.” He cast an eye in the direction of a table of young women clad in tight snowsuits.

  “Well, order whatever you want for breakfast.” Joshua signed the check to charge his breakfast to the suite Mac had reserved for him and Donny. “I may be having lunch with Mac, so plan on having lunch without me.”

  “Charge it to the room?”

  “Yes, but don’t go crazy,” Joshua warned. “I don’t want to take advantage of Mac and Archie’s generosity.” He clasped his son on the shoulder. “Have fun, but most of all, be careful.”

  “What fun is there in that?” Donny grinned before taking the menu the server brought him.

  Taking note of the time, Joshua quickened his pace when he went into the lobby. He had to hurry to get to Mac Faraday’s home on Spencer Point in order to pick up the groom-to-be and Gnarly, deliver the dog to the groomer, and make it to the tailor in Oakland, Maryland, to be fitted for his tuxedo.

  While mentally making the list of what he had to do, he listened to the ringing on the other end of the phone line before Cameron Gates, his own bride of less than a year, answered. “Hey, Silver Fox, did I wake you up when I called earlier?”

  “No,” Joshua said, “I was talking to Donny and didn’t get to the phone in time. How did you sleep last night?”

  “Not well,” she replied. “That bed is cold without you there.”

  Joshua took advantage of being alone in the elevator to tell her. “Same here. I missed you.”

  “I should have come,” she said.

  “Maybe you can.”

  “Too late,” she said. “I’m on my way to a crime scene. Dead body in Fairfield Hills.”

  Making note that Fairfield Hills was a rural area outside of Pittsburgh that catered to luxurious homes with plenty of acreage, Joshua asked, “Murder or suicide?”

  The doors in the back of the elevator opened to the parking garage. Joshua stepped out to see that every space was filled with vehicles. The Spencer Inn was filled with holiday and wedding guests. Hoping he could remember where he had parked when they had arrived the night before, Joshua made his way around to the far corner of the garage.

  “I haven’t gotten to the scene yet,” Cameron was telling him. “First responders said it’s an older gentleman. Lives in a big mansion. His assistant found him this morning when he came in for work.” She sighed. “I have a bad feeling, Josh.”

  Recalling Cameron’s anxiety the day before when he and Donny were packing to leave, Joshua stopped when he got to his SUV. “Honey, we talked about this yesterday. What you’re feeling is not about me. It’s Nick. Donny and me coming here in the winter, right after Christmas—it’s bringing back all the grief from when your first husband was killed right after the holidays.” He paused to choose his words carefully. “I’m not Nick, Cam. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

  “I’m sure if Nick had had the opportunity to talk to me before he was killed he would have said the same thing.”

  “I wish you had decided to come with us,” Joshua said. “I wish you could turn your cruiser onto the interstate and come down here right now. It’d be great. The weather is perfect for skiing, the suite is fabulous, and the food is fantastic. We’d have a great time.”

  “Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve,” she replied. “Too late now. You can’t go back into the past to change things.”

  “But you can change the way things are now,” Joshua said. “The wedding is three days away. Maybe we’ll get lucky and this murder will be an open-and-shut case. Be real nice to your lieutenant, and do paperwork for the rest of the day. Then go home, pop Irving into the cruiser, and you can be down here by dinner.”

  “I don’t do weddings.”

  “I’ll do the wedding,” Joshua said. “You go skiing and play the drunken stripper who pops out of the cake at the bachelor party.”

  “I thought Mac wasn’t having a bachelor party,” she said.

  “You come down here to join me, my love, and we’ll have our own party.”

  Chapter Two

  Fairfield Hills, Pennsylvania

  Christmas holidays are tough on those who work for the police, fire department, or hospitals. When most people want time off to spend with their families, the emergency calls increase in volume. It’s a given. It comes with the job.

  Dreading the holiday season, Pennsylvania State Police Homicide Detective Cameron Gates always volunteered to work in order to allow those who had families to take off.

  It had started the Christmas after her first husband had passed away.

  She and Nicholas Gates, a Pennsylvania state trooper, had exchanged their vows in a lavish Catholic wedding in October. After four months of wedded bliss, Cameron found herself back in the same Catholic Church in January—burying her husband, who had been run down in a hit and run during a routine traffic stop.

  Even though she now had a new family who wanted to spend time with her, this year was no different.

  It was Cameron and Joshua’s first Christmas as a married couple. To the Thornton family’s surprise, she volunteered to work Christmas day, while almost all of Joshua’s children had managed to come home for Christmas. Moreover, she had also refused to request time off to attend Archie Monday and Mac Faraday’s wedding, which was turning into a major social event that famous authors, movie producers, politicians, and celebrities—all friends of the late Robin Spencer—would attend.

  Weddings were the last thing Cameron wanted to think about during the holiday season. Christmas brought memories of Nick crashing back. Their only Christmas together was filled with joy and dreams of their married life together—and then those dreams had been crushed two weeks into the New Year.

  A decade later, it was another Christmas with another new husband and his family. Instead of embracing the joy of their first season together, Cameron embarked on an emotional tug of war. She could feel herself pulling away from Joshua and his children for fear of getting too close—for fear of opening herself up only to have her heart ripped out of her chest and crushed as it had been before.

  Forcing herself to push the pain and memories away, she would reach out to them by jumping into a family gathering of games or movies or a splendid dinner prepared by Tracy, Joshua’s older daughter.

  Just as the familial moment would start to seem perfect, Cameron would feel a cold sweat bead up on her back and chest, and then the fear of losing them all in a matter of an instant would swallow her up.

  In a panic, she would retreat to the master bedroom she shared with Joshua to curl up with Irving, her twenty-five pound Maine Coon cat.

  Irving loved those moments together.

  Joshua—not so much.

  Understanding the root of Cameron’s anxiety, he instructed everyone to give their new stepmother her space.

  She’d come around.

  He hoped.

  Three days after Christmas, it was with mixed feelings that Cameron kissed her husband and stepson Donny good-bye as they prepared to go to Deep Creek Lake.

  Christmas was over. Three of Joshua’s five children were returning to their homes. Tracy left for New York to finish her last year of culinary school. Joshua Junior, Joshua’s oldest son, returned to Pennsylvania State University, where he was a first-year law student and an associate professor in pre-law. Sarah was going back to Annapoli
s, where she was a second-year cadet at the United States Naval Academy.

  The only child who had not made it home was Murphy Thornton, Joshua Junior’s identical twin brother. A Naval Academy graduate, Murphy was assigned to the Pentagon in Washington, DC, but couldn’t make it home because he was on a temporary assignment overseas. However, Joshua and Donny were planning to make a side trip to Washington to visit with Murphy after the wedding in Deep Creek Lake for a small, late Christmas celebration.

  Joshua’s departure the day before brought back memories of that last morning Cameron had kissed Nick good-bye and waved to him while he pulled away in his cruiser. The snow was blowing around on the freezing wind, chapping her cheeks and sending chills down her neck—exactly like it had been that morning so long ago.

  Forget it, Cameron.

  She pushed the memory and the sense of dread from her mind.

  Josh and Donny will be fine. Now focus on this case. Before you know it, they’ll be home. You’ll see.

  With effort, Cameron pressed her foot on the gas pedal of her cruiser to speed along the rural country road that would take her into the countryside of Fairfield Hills. The heavy woods, which would break into landscaped properties all containing mansions, some renovated from old farmhouses, were coated in six inches of snow from Christmas day and the day before. Another two inches had fallen since midnight.

  Luckily, a plow had made it through to clear the road for the emergency vehicles that were answering the call.

  Cameron was one of the last of the crime scene personnel to arrive. As the detective assigned to the murder case that fell into state police jurisdiction, she would take the lead in the investigation. She also lived the furthest away. Since she was traveling in from Chester, West Virginia, it was more than an hour drive for her to arrive at the white mansion, complete with white pillars on the porch that stretched across the front. The mansion looked like a miniature White House plopped down in the middle of a Pennsylvania gentleman’s farm.

  Cameron was climbing out of her white SUV cruiser when a uniformed officer came out onto the porch. “I’m surprised to see you here,” the older officer called to her. “I heard your hubby was in the wedding of the year. Why aren’t you there rubbing elbows with all the hoity-toidy people in Deep Creek Lake? Not that I’m complaining. It’s good to see that the state police cared enough to send only their very best.”

  Cameron climbed up onto the porch. “Can you really see me hanging out with the rich and famous, Stan?”

  Stan peered down at her windblown auburn hair, cut into wispy waves that fell to the bottom of her neck, and her greenish-brown eyes. She wore a brown leather jacket, black slacks, a form-fitting sweater, and black boots. “With the right hair and make-up …”

  “Give me a break,” she muttered. “Where’s the victim?”

  “In the study in the back of the house,” Stan answered with a jerk of his head.

  Cameron showed her badge to the state police officer posted at the front door before ducking under the yellow police tape to go inside.

  Leading the way through the two-story-tall foyer and down a hallway past a country kitchen, Stan continued, “He’s some sort of consultant for the government. I’m still not sure what he does. His assistant isn’t much help.”

  “Consultants usually charge a lot of money for doing nothing but offering worthless advice.” Cameron noted that the rooms they were going through were ornately decorated in very expensive artifacts from various countries, which reminded her a little of the house she now shared with Joshua. The Thornton home contained souvenirs from many countries Joshua and his family had traveled to while he was in the navy.

  “He’s spent time overseas.” In a short corridor, Cameron stopped in front of a hand-painted papyrus encased in a gold frame.

  Stan turned from in front of a door leading into the study. Cameron could see bookcases lining the walls inside the room. “Usually these government contractors spend a lot of time working for the defense agencies before retiring and then becoming contractors. After that, they make two paychecks. Their retirement checks, plus the checks for the consulting. Sweet.”

  Cameron stepped inside to see the bloody body of a man duct taped to a chair. “I don’t think he’d agree.”

  The medical examiner, Dr. Thomas Higgins, was in the midst of examining the body.

  “Reginald Crane,” Stan recited from his notes. “According to his driver’s license, he’s sixty-three years old.”

  Cameron noticed the dead man’s firm and muscular build. “Pretty good shape for someone who’s over sixty.”

  “Except for being dead,” Dr. Higgins said.

  “Point taken,” Cameron agreed with a nod of her head. “Can you determine a cause of death?”

  “I’ll have to open him up,” the doctor said. “In my preliminary exam, I see no knife wounds or gunshots. His fingers are broken. He’s been tortured. He’s been dead at least twenty-four hours.”

  Cameron looked around the study to see that books had been taken down from the bookshelves, drawers had been opened, and the contents of the drawers had been spilled onto the floor. The wall displayed framed diplomas and awards. One, Cameron noted, was a diploma from West Point Military Academy. Ex-Military Officer.

  “Someone was looking for something.” She turned to Stan. “What type of government agencies was Mr. Crane contracting with?”

  “We’ll have to ask his assistant,” Stan said. “His name is Ethan Bonner.”

  “Where is Mr. Bonner?”

  Stan led her from the study and back to the front of the house to the living room. When they stepped inside, they found it empty. “Where’s Ethan Bonner?” Stan demanded of the uniformed officer who was standing guard outside the living room.

  “He got nauseous,” the officer explained, “so I let him use the bathroom.”

  “Bathroom where?” Cameron asked.

  “Off the kitchen.” He pointed back down the hallway to the country kitchen.

  Cameron led the way back to the kitchen. The bathroom was down a short hallway leading to the garage. She threw open the door to reveal an empty half-bath. Pushing Stan out of the way, she rushed back out and continued to the door at the end of the hall. It led to the two-car garage, which was occupied by a silver Mercedes-Benz and a black SUV. In addition to the two garage doors, there was a door leading to the backyard, which had deep woods behind it.

  With a curse, Cameron turned back to the two officers. “Looks like our witness just became a suspect.”

  Spencer Manor

  Mac was in such a hurry that he didn’t bother dressing. Gnarly leapt and barked as he led the way to the doors that lined the far wall of the drop-down dining room. Mac yanked open the doors and ran out into the snowy deck that was still packed with a foot and a half of Christmas snow.

  With his slippered feet sliding under him, he ran the length of the deck and through the rose garden to the stone guest cottage where his half-brother, Police Chief David O’Callaghan, resided.

  The cozy cabin’s one bedroom was located up in the loft on the far side of the great room. The big windows in the cottage provided a tree-top view of the lake from the queen-sized bed. The galley kitchen was located directly beneath the loft.

  The special Christmas present from David’s girlfriend, Chelsea, a smart television took up most of the wall in the living area of the great room. David appeared to still be making discoveries about the television’s host of special features. While racing across the great room, Mac noted the dog-eared instruction manual resting in the center of the coffee table.

  Without pausing to knock on the door, Mac ran inside. “David!” The only response he heard was the shower running in the bathroom up in the loft.

  Slipping in directly behind Mac, Gnarly raided a basket of dog toys that David kept for him in the corner. Selecting a stuffed malla
rd duck with a squeak toy inside, Gnarly jumped up onto the sofa and proceeded to chew it. The duck quacked with each gnaw.

  Mac raced up the circular stairs to the bedroom.

  “David!” Mac threw open the bathroom door. “I need your help!”

  Startled by the abrupt intrusion, David almost slipped and fell inside the wet shower stall. After the first instant of shock, he recognized Mac’s voice. “What are you doing in my bathroom?”

  “Calling in favors!” Mac tossed a towel over the shower door for him.

  Instead of drying himself, David clutched the towel against his chest while turning off the water. “What kind of favors?”

  “I need protection for Archie,” Mac said.

  “You got it.” David blinked away the water dripping into his eyes before wiping his face. “Now can I get dressed?”

  Mac stepped back to allow David out of the shower. Realizing that the bathroom was not quite big enough for two grown men to move around freely, Mac backed into the bedroom, but left the door open so that they could talk.

  “What is this about?” David demanded to know while drying himself off.

  “A little less than three weeks ago I got a card in the mail from a man saying that since I had taken away his happiness, he was going to take away mine.”

  Naked, David stepped into the doorway. “Why? Who is this person?”

  “Russell Dooley.”

  “How did you take away his happiness? Did you send him to prison?”

  “No, his wife,” Mac said. “I arrested her about eight years ago. Three weeks ago, she committed suicide in prison after her last appeal was denied.” He handed David the photograph with the note. “I can’t believe I actually felt sorry for the guy.”

  “I don’t.” Studying the picture, David came into the room and stood in front of Mac. “While he doesn’t actually say the words, this is definitely an implied threat.”