“You think something happened to her?” Fife’s brown eyes went wide. “I’ve been gone. I have a witness.”
Dalton stared him down as loathing swirled. Fife had coward written all over him.
“She didn’t call.” The attorney’s Adam’s apple bobbed with his swallow. “She didn’t even lock up last night. They say the entry wasn’t forced. Whoever did this came in the front door.”
“Is she blonde?”
“No. This is Val.” Fife picked up a picture of him and a redhead smiling in the snow. She didn’t look like a professional who just ran things—she wore devotion for Fife in her gaze.
“When’s the last time anyone saw her?”
At Fife’s answering shrug, Dalton grabbed a tech, hoofed it down the back stairs, and noted the lone car in the back lot. The hood was popped up about an inch.
“It’s been opened. Check it out.”
The worker started processing the car. When he heaved open the hood, something caught Dalton’s attention. “The distributor cap’s missing.”
He sent Moody to check out the woman’s apartment, but he knew the car held the most important clues. It was a part of the pattern. Like Natalie’s slashed tires, another vehicle had been tampered with. Another woman was gone.
“Someone print the hood, please?” He watched the crime scene investigator sweep the hood and lift a partial print from the latch.
Valery wasn’t missing.
She’d been taken.
Cold.
So very cold.
And dark.
How long had she been captive in this place? It seemed to be some sort of workroom or a cave. A steady drip, drip, drip was the only sound. Her wrists were raw from trying to free herself. Her eyes burned from his last torture—alcohol and a dangling, lit match. Why hadn’t he just let her burn?
Valery’s mind spun in an endless cycle of prayer, hope, rage, sorrow, and finally, release. She didn’t care if she suffered any more. She just wanted it to be over.
The slow creak of the heavy wooden door at the other end of the room grabbed her attention. She held her breath. Listened. Steps echoed off the concrete floor. The bare bulb flashed to life, casting swinging shadows. She couldn’t see him, but she heard him. The steady cadence of dripping water mixed with the sound of his ragged breath.
“Miss me?”
Standing with his back to her at a worktable splayed with silver instruments, her kidnapper prepared another horror.
He raked her hair back from her head and grabbed her by the nape of the neck.
“I asked you a question.”
“I-I’ve told you everything.”
White, vibrant flashes speckled her vision as he forced her to face him. His eyes were dark and cold, and his breath was hot and rotten against her face.
“No, my dear. I think you have one last story to tell.”
Chapter 24
Natalie clutched the V-Dub’s wheel, cruising along on her way back to the inn. The setting sun washed out all the color in the world except the blaze of sunset lighting the clouds and the mountains.
She’d gathered some kitchen essentials in town. Fresh garlic, butter, spices, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, dry yeast, flour … items she knew Corie would want in the kitchen. The workers would be gone for the day by the time she returned from the grocery store. She wondered how much progress they’d made as farms and vineyards swept past on her drive home.
Turning through the roundabout, her phone bleeped with Nick’s ringtone. Natalie just clutched the wheel tighter.
No texting and driving. No matter what the message.
At least something Dad taught had stuck.
Open windows set the shopping bags rustling in the wind, and the car filled with the scent of orange blossoms as she worried. A text from Nick meant something bad had happened. He’d promised not to get in touch unless there was a change.
Was it Philip? Or Marie?
Both deaths were imminent, and the watch grew long, the vigil, tiring.
The sunset air breezed through the car, warm and inviting as she passed wineries. On the right, she passed another castle-like tasting room followed by a big, red barn, and then on the left, an old California-style hotel. Someday, they would all be her competitors.
At the stop sign, she signaled right, her heart thrilling at the sight of her restored gateway. Even from here, she could see that the place was shaping up.
Nick’s primary focus was curb appeal. He’d hired an arborist to trim back the olive grove and a groundskeeper to mow the grass and weed the drive. The fountain sat dry in the front circle, waiting for its redo.
It was time to see if the money she’d spent to install a remote for the gate was worth the cost. It was so much safer to just drive through the gates rather than get out and open them. Natalie drove up to the vine-covered arch. The creeping plant masked the entrance’s cosmetic issues that couldn’t be fixed immediately. Nick’s idea for a workaround was right again.
Natalie bought into Nick’s way of thinking. She didn’t know if it was out of trust or gratefulness for the way he had completely bought in to her ludicrous project. He seemed to care about this place as much as she did. They often worked late into the night, going over plans, calendars, and budgets. One thing was certain: working with him was the easiest thing she’d ever done.
While the gate swung open at her approach—one hurdle down—she checked her phone for Nick’s message.
Just checking on you. Let me know when you get in.
So much for not getting in touch, she thought. The sweetness wrapped around her shoulders.
She wondered if he ever got tired of being right. Still, worry clouded the success of their plans. What if people didn’t want to come here, even after all of the work they put into it? After all, the property’s history and Mr. Valence’s grisly death was a matter of public record.
People had stopped coming to the Valence Estate Hotel after the murder. Haunted, the old online reviews stated. Or cursed. And no amount of cajoling the review sites would change that. She’d tried.
Not seeing any other options, her harebrained solution was to embrace it. Maybe guests would be intrigued by the mystery of the place if she played it up, admitted to the property’s dark history.
For now, she needed to focus her attention on the inside of the house. It would take a massive amount of work to clean the cathedral ceilings, arches, and duct work in each room. A filtration system was already in place, but it was years past working.
It hurt every time she wrote a check: they were all outgoing, and there was no income to speak of. Not yet, she reminded herself. But soon. Things were moving faster than expected.
She would work out a pricing ratio for the opening rates. Create a Haunted Holiday special for Halloween weekend.
That would take her mind off Mrs. Valence in the hospital and whether or not the body in the morgue was her birth mother.
Natalie shook away the dark thoughts as the dusk sky pitched from orange to purples and deep blues over the dome of Mount Paloma.
The history of this place swelled with anguish. These people who shared her blood, who stemmed from this land, lived such shattered lives with brutal endings. As a child, she’d been protected from the story of her biological family. But now, Pandora’s Box gaped open and she had to deal with the consequences.
She was a Valence, but she was also a Turner. And Turners didn’t shy away from life when it got hard.
Clinging to her faith for the future, Natalie turned left at the rear drive that curled around the property to the employee lot.
Corie had her back to the kitchen window. Her hair was knotted in an elaborate braid, and her jeans and tank showed off her curves while she bopped to unheard music in the sparkling kitchen.
Natalie smiled. Nick wasn’t her only partner.
They were in this together, the three of them. Corie could only see the potentials and profits. Nick was all about the know-how and wherew
ithal to get things done. And with Natalie’s hospitality and marketing savvy, the future should be bright. Besides, if they couldn’t look to the future, what did they have, really?
Fear wasn’t from God. Light was the only thing to push back the shadows.
Although the evening was still bright enough to see, new motion lights flicked on at her arrival.
Natalie tossed a frown at the stark white glare coming from the rooftop. She’d have to do something about that. Her guests wouldn’t want their rooms igniting after dark. It totally shattered the ambiance she wanted to create.
She’d have that battle with Nick later. She understood why he was paranoid. With the Lakeview Slayer still out there, security topped Nick’s list. She couldn’t say she disagreed. Maybe things would be different once the guy was caught.
“I’m back!” Natalie called ahead, muscling in the bags that Corie had requested.
Corie laughed as she turned down the volume and came over to help Natalie unpack the groceries. “Where’s my garlic?”
“Here.” Natalie set a final bag on the counter and rubbed the inside of her elbow where the bags had cut into her flesh. “Along with other spices whose names I have difficulty pronouncing.”
With a pleased hum, Corie turned a small container of dark powder. “Cardamom. You’ll love this.”
“I’d better, at that price. I got you this too.” Natalie handed over the specialty grocer’s online ordering info. “They deliver even out all this way. It’ll save us gas and the need to run out every other day.”
Her reach for the fridge handle was halted by Corie’s hand. “The guy didn’t show. Violet loaned us another cooler.” Plucking milk from Natalie’s grasp, she went to put it in the large blue Coleman.
Corie dished on the day’s happenings. “The Internet guy gave up with the wiring. He’ll be back tomorrow with better tools. Fridge tech should be here tomorrow; the home warehouse promised. They even offered us ten percent off purchases, thirty if the guy isn’t here by noon. So I’m gonna go see about that Hobart mixer, maybe? Unless you’re set on the KitchenAid …”
“KitchenAid. Any color you want.” Natalie held up a hand. “I love ya, kiddo, but the restaurant-sized mixer’ll have to wait.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” Corie sighed with obvious longing and went back to putting dry goods in the cabinets.
Natalie glanced at the large jars of cookies, the stacks of breads, and if she wasn’t mistaken, homemade crackers spread out on the counters. “You baked all this?”
“Had to do something that’d keep with the ingredients I bought.”
Natalie chomped a sweet raisin scone while Corie shoved orange juice, milk, cream, and eggs into the cooler. She spotted bottles of waters, sodas, and even some fruit. Was that all from Violet? Tears clogged her throat at the sweet, neighborly gesture.
Corie placed her hands on her hips. “Don’t get all misty-eyed. The fridge’ll hold all that and fifty times more. Anyway, power’s fully restored to all the rooms and outlets. The service invoice is on your desk.”
“My desk.”
“Right. In your office.”
Before Natalie could say she didn’t have an office, Corie grinned, looking like the Cheshire cat. “Wanna see what else I did today?”
Following her sister up the main stairs, the grand room still looked large and dated, but at least it was cleared of her sorting piles.
Natalie hot on her heels, Corie took the steps two at a time. “Tomorrow I’ll start listing the antiques on eBay.”
“I don’t know, Corie. It feels weird. Marie’s still—I don’t know. Here.”
Corie nodded. “When you’re ready.”
They headed down the corridor on the right toward the small apartment that once belonged to Marie. Natalie looked left. Sconces warmed the recently oiled wood banister and the gleaming wainscoting in the hall.
Twisting the doorknob, she entered Marie’s old room to find it completely transformed.
The smell of lemon cleaner greeted her, and the furniture gleamed with oil. A vase of olive branches stood on the small mantle. Fresh-cut olive wood was in the fireplace below, just waiting for a match to set it alight.
“I may have sweet-talked the arborist into letting me keep a bunch of his clippings,” Corie said with a smile.
The now uncovered love seat and wingback chairs were upholstered in sixties-era white fabric. They were dated, but in perfect condition.
“Aren’t they retro?” Corie shuttled her to the desk where her laptop and another vase of olive branches graced the top.
Natalie wrapped her sister in a fierce hug, danced around the desk, and swiveled the leather office chair.
“What happened to the dinette?”
“No need for a dining area in here since we’ll all be eating together in that gorgeous kitchen. I figure you work at your desk more than you eat, anyway.”
“How on earth did you do all of this in one day?”
Corie pressed a hand to her chest. “I can’t take all of the credit. Violet came to help.”
Her surrogate mother had taken to dropping by daily with new linens, pieces of furniture, and light fixtures. Now, she’d whipped Natalie’s room into designer shape.
“How am I ever going to thank her?”
“Marry her son, maybe?” Corie cackled and then rolled her eyes at Natalie’s frozen form. “That was a joke, Nat! Come on. Where’s your sense of humor?”
Corie directed Natalie’s attention to the new, fluffy duvet and pillows on the bed. “Where’d those come from?” Natalie asked.
“Another welcome gift from Violet.”
“She’s doing too much,” Natalie protested half-heartedly, running her hand over the white and blue pattern. Thanks couldn’t express how her heart soared at the rich hotel pattern.
Corie’s gaze softened as she sat on the trunk at the foot of the bed. “She needs to help, I think. All that love bottled up for so long … She’s gotta pour it out or she’ll go nuts.”
Natalie wandered through the rest of the room. The clean curtains smelled of detergent and sunlight. “There’s room for both of us in here. Sure you don’t want to room together?”
“You need your space. I’ll be just next door.” They shoulder bumped. “Unless I get freaked. Then you won’t be able to pry me from your bed. Come and see.”
In the room she’d claimed for herself, Corie showed off the four-poster bed and several antiques she’d salvaged from Natalie’s sorting piles. A vintage vanity complete with a silver brush set was obviously her favorite.
“Hope you don’t mind. They just looked so pretty on that marble-topped table.”
“You do love pretty things.” Natalie hooked her baby sister’s arm. “What would I do without you?”
“Certainly none of this.” Corie mattress-flopped onto her matching navy and white hotel sheets. The bedding was beautiful.
Like mother, like son, Natalie thought. Violet had an eye for this place.
Corie reached over to finger the daisies in a vase on the nightstand. “I was thinking about you today. Heard about the DNA test.”
Natalie looked over, sharp. “Who told you?”
“Dalton. He called.” Corie plucked a stray fiber from the new pillow sham and then met Natalie’s ducked gaze. “You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay? They needed a sample so I gave it.”
“She might be your birth mom? The first victim?”
Silence bloomed.
Shaking her head, Corie continued, “I’m sorry, Nat. It’s not the bio-fam story we wanted for you.”
Natalie focused on the new sheets and the small throw pillow with a gold key pattern. With her baby sister’s faith in her and in her dreams, there was no chance she’d be giving up any time soon. “No. But family means more than just blood, doesn’t it?”
From below, Nick’s hello echoed up the stairs and down the open hall.
“Nick’s back.”
&nbs
p; “And look at you, all flushing and bright-eyed. I see how it is.”
Natalie stopped at the door. “Thanks, Corie. For today, for the rooms, for baking, and for believing in me.”
“Nice to see you finally believing in yourself.”
Chapter 25
Valery’s eyes fluttered. She blinked into a bright, blue world.
Springtime birds sang. A creek rushed through a grassy meadow. That low stone wall marked the border of Papa’s farm where she’d summered every year of her childhood. Her happiest memories happened here.
No longer bound at the wrists and ankles, Valery sifted her silky hair out of her face. It was no longer a dyed shade of persimmon, but her natural carrot color. Something jangled in the back of her mind. A recollection, an important memory, fluttered like that swallowtail butterfly on the slight breeze.
Someone was watching.
She turned to see a figure standing in a shaft of sunlight. Her grandfather propped a foot on the wall that marked the edge of his property, smiling.
“You’re lost, angel.”
“I’m tired, Papa.” Valery sagged at his feet and rested her head on his knee.
“And you’re still my girl, even though you changed your name and dyed your pretty hair.” He took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet before planting a kiss just above her eyes.
The sorrow, the hurt, all of her failings spread in a wave. “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry I disappointed you …”
“Bah. You always were the stubborn one. That’s what I love about you.” He smiled. “You’re already forgiven, Val. Have been since you were a wee little thing. Why do you forget?”
“But …”
“Turn yourself around, Missy.” His tone strengthened, transforming into the voice of the Papa she remembered. This was the man who had taught her right from wrong. “You’ve got fifty-three years to go before we meet here again.”
“No—I—”
“Your children need their mama.”
“But, I don’t have—”
“You will. You’ll see. This was the only way, and as awful as it is, you’ll make sense of it one day. Now, go. They need you among the living. You’re the key.”
First Crush Page 19