by Zoe Carter
Now, there was the kind of juicy family discord that would have made Victor’s ears perk up. One of Thornwood Heights’s most prominent families—his own—wasn’t so tight-knit after all, perhaps. But then again, Victor probably knew that.
Isleigh glanced at her diamond-dotted watch. “Spa appointment in five. And Lord knows I don’t want to miss a minute of that. Take care of yourself now.”
Isleigh walked out, head held high, and Lauren realized that she and Isleigh Martin Townsend had a lot more in common than she ever realized.
* * *
“Find the bug,” Xan said to the adorable, floppy-eared beagle sitting by his foot outside the Townsend Report office. Xan didn’t want to give the command in the office; whoever was listening and spying would know right away that Lauren was on to him. Xan opened the door and the beagle padded in.
Lauren watched the dog’s snout lift in the air, his black nose twitching back and forth. In three seconds, he padded over to the ficus tree in the corner and pawed the edge of the pot, then lay down.
Xan smiled and scratched the beagle behind the ears, then tossed him a bone-shaped dog biscuit. He ran his hands along the perimeter of the ceramic pot, then on top of and over the leaves. He froze, shot Lauren a thumbs-up, and plucked a tiny black transmitter off a high leaf. He held up a finger to his lips, then put the transmitter on Lauren’s desk. He pulled out a tiny screwdriver from a pack in his back pocket, and five seconds later said, “All clear.”
Lauren stared at the little camera. “So someone did bug the office. Unbelievable.”
“With the extra security measures you’ll set up here, it’ll be harder for anyone to get in or break in,” Xan said. “But for now, whoever was listening can’t hear a thing.”
“Thanks, Xan,” Lauren said. “And thank you, Techno,” she added, bending down to pet the sweet dog. She reached in her tote bag for the dog biscuits and gave him one. He crunched it happily. She handed the two others to Xan for later.
She knew police dogs could sniff out bombs and drugs and that kind of thing, but until Xan had given her an earful about how K-9s were also now trained in tactical detection, able to find hidden electronics of all kinds to seek out evidence against everything from pedophiles to white-collar criminals, she’d had no idea a dog could find a hidden thumb drive or a transmitter. Xan had trained Techno himself using mozzarella sticks as the prize.
But once again, she was left with the big question: Who was behind all this?
Victor Townsend (Andrew Moodie) and Lauren Riley (Ferelith Young) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Jennifer Riley (Stefanie von Pfetten) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Jennifer Riley (Stefanie von Pfetten) and Santos Alvarez (Tahmoh Penikett) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Jennifer Riley (Stefanie von Pfetten) and Hayden Blake (Steve Byers) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Jennifer Riley (Stefanie von Pfetten) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Hayden Blake (Steve Byers) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Jennifer Riley (Stefanie von Pfetten) and Hayden Blake (Steve Byers) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Young Jennifer Riley (Caroline Dufort) and young Abby Blake (Emma Belanger).
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Abby Blake (Emma Belanger) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Jennifer Riley (Stefanie von Pfetten), Jamie Chen (Shannon Kook) and Daniel Blake (Jon Cor) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Jennifer Riley (Stefanie von Pfetten) and Hayden Blake (Steve Byers) in Deadly Secrets by the Lake.
Photo courtesy of H Movie 1 Production Inc. and Reel World Management Canada Inc.
Chapter Eleven
“A killer is loose in Thornwood Heights, yet the Thornwoods Heights police department does not appear to be actively investigating the murder of Tammy Gallagher, the eighteen-year-old graduate of THHS, whose murder remains unsolved.”
Well, if Lauren thought her father didn’t read her posts on TownsendReport.com, she was mistaken. A terse comment on this morning’s post read: “The Thornwood Heights Police Department is investigating the murder of Tammy Gallagher. However, as it is an active investigation, we cannot comment to the press on the case at this time. Thank you for your patience. What we do know is that this isolated incident is drug related, and that the town remains the safe weekend and vacation destination that has delighted tourists and residents for decades.—Chief Thomas Riley”
Oh, Dad, Lauren thought, her heart sinking. Sometimes you just go one step too far. The mayor was probably breathing down his neck to make sure the town didn’t lose its cachet as a tourist mecca. So Tammy Gallagher—and Trevor—got thrown under the bus.
Another comment was from Deputy Chief Pat Lewton: “Given the salacious nature of the TownsendReport.com, I will be providing information on this case only to reputable press outlets, such as the Thornwood Heights Gazette.”
Lauren rolled her eyes and read the next comment, her eyes bugging out of her head: “My name is Mrs. Wachowski. I teach English and journalism at Thornwood Heights High School. I have a very good memory and I recall that Ms. Riley cut my class more than she showed up. But I must have taught her well because not only is she a strong writer, she’s a solid journalist, investigating issues plaguing our town. My husband’s cousin was in jail for petty theft and was killed in a yard fight. No one cared. And that’s wrong. Just like it’s wrong that Tammy Gallagher’s death is being ignored by the THPD.”
Whoa. Mrs. Wachowksi in her corner. Lauren made a mental note to send her old English teacher a card of thanks and maybe some good chocolates when the door to the office flew open.
“If you keep antagonizing the entire police department,” Jennifer Riley said, two foam cups of coffee in her hands, “you’ll get nowhere in this case. You need them on your side.” She handed Lauren one of the cups. “Cream, two sugars.”
Lauren grinned. “Is this you buttering up the press?” She took a sip, needing the caffeine. “And thank you. But, Jen, the police don’t care about this case. They’re not going to investigate further. If pushing a little gets Paretti off his butt, great. If not, oh well. Lewton hated me before anyway. I assume Dad still loves me.”
“You’re putting him in an awkward position, though,” Jennifer said.
Ugh, she did not want to do that. But still. “Is this how it works in New York City? Cases are swept under the rug so toes don’t get stepped on? Come on.”
“This isn’t New York, Lauren. It’s home. And your father we’re talking about.” Jennifer stared at Lauren, her green eyes narrowing. “Or is this also about your love life?”
Do not flinch. Do not take the bait. “I don’t have a love life.”
“You’re spending a lot of time with Trevor Gallagher.”
Lauren nodded slowly. “Yes, investigating his sister’s murder and reporting it. My job.”
“Well, my job is detective. And there’s something between you two, Lauren. I saw it on both your faces, in your body language a
nd your voices when we checked out the woods. Don’t bother denying it.”
That obvious she had...feelings for Trevor? Shit. She hated being called out on the truth when she wasn’t even sure what the truth was. Yes, she wanted to rip off Trevor’s clothes and explore every inch of his amazing body for hours. Yes, she respected him. The way he cared about his sister and about justice. He’d served his country. He listened to her, really listened. And she’d never forget how it had felt to be pressed against his rock-hard body, his arms around her.
Lauren looked at Jennifer, wanting to confide in her. She wanted to be close to the sister she’d missed out on for two decades. But Jennifer was the police, even if she had no jurisdiction here. And Lauren really didn’t know whose side her sister was on. The THPD had already written Tammy Gallagher off as a druggie killed in a deal gone bad. And if Jennifer thought Lauren’s fight for the truth and justice was about Lauren being hot for a victim’s brother, Jennifer wouldn’t take Lauren seriously.
“I’m doing my job,” Lauren said. “Just like you’re doing yours.”
“Well, then I’ll say it for the hundredth time. Be careful. You don’t want to make enemies of the department you need info from. I’m just saying that a little professionalism, a little give and take, goes a long way.”
“Fine. I hear you,” Lauren said.
Jennifer stared at her for a moment. “See you at home tonight.”
Lauren nodded, and when her sister left, she glanced at the comment counter on the latest post. Thirty-four comments in the last fifteen minutes. The comments seemed split between blasting Lauren for intimating that the police weren’t doing their jobs and agreeing that they weren’t doing enough because the victim wasn’t important enough. A few comments spoke to the fact that when the son of a wealthy, prominent resident was murdered, the police were all over it.
Don’t I know it, Lauren thought.
She continued reading through the comments, now nearing a hundred.
“Tammy was nice and hardworking,” someone named Cathy Planter wrote. “She worked two jobs, and it’s not easy being a waitress and then cleaning houses.”
Wait—cleaning houses?
She typed Cathy Planter’s name into a search engine, and a phone number and address popped up.
Five seconds later, Lauren had Cathy Planter on the phone. Cathy and Tammy had been classmates at THHS. They were more acquaintances than friends, but Cathy had gone to Catch of the Day a month ago with her boyfriend, and Tammy had been their waitress.
“Ms. Planter, you mentioned in your comment on the TownsendReport.com that Tammy Gallagher had a second job cleaning houses. Do you know if she worked for a service?”
“I don’t know if she worked for a service or not,” the woman said, “but I saw her going to the Carlington mansion a few weeks ago. She rode her bike there.”
That was very close to when she was killed.
“What made you think she was cleaning for the Carlingtons?” Lauren asked. She knew who the couple were—early sixtysomethings, Marcus and his wife. Lauren couldn’t think of her name. Marcus Carlington was a former mayor of Thornwood Heights who’d left politics for investment banking and the golf course. And his wife led annual major fund-raising events for the cancer center of the hospital. They weren’t Blake or Martin rich, but they were close.
“Well, Tammy mentioned she’d picked up cleaning gigs,” Cathy said. “So I just assumed. Why else would she be going there?”
Yeah, why? Lauren wondered. “Do you remember the date?”
“Sorry, I’m so bad at dates. But I know it was early June. The seventh or eighth, maybe. Give or take a day or two.”
“You said you saw her ride up on a bike?” Lauren asked. “Why were you there?”
“My boyfriend is a landscaper and works for the guy who handles the Carlingtons’ neighbor. Sometimes I pick him up, so that’s why I happened to see Tammy ride up. The guys were redoing the bluestone path through the lawn, so they were there every day that week. I feel so bad about what happened to her.”
“I appreciate the information, Ms. Planter. Thank you. Oh wait—can you describe the bike?”
“It was a Trek. White letters against dark blue.”
Whoa. A dark blue Trek? Victor Townsend was a bike aficionado. He always kept at least three bikes at the office and had said he had five more at home. He’d once pointed out the Trek to her and said it was his thinking bike, the one he rode six miles around the lake to help plan out a story. Dark blue. Trek in white.
If Tammy Gallagher was riding a Trek, she hadn’t paid for it herself. Not when her hours had been cut and she’d needed a second job. So had that been Victor’s bike? Had she stolen it? Didn’t seem likely. Nothing in her past indicated she was a thief.
Lauren had seen Tammy talking to Victor. Maybe he’d let her borrow the bike. Hell, maybe he’d given it to her. Because she had information for him and she needed transportation to check things out.
Hmm. Marcus Carlington was rich. And older.
Was Marcus Carlington the rich, older stalker? But then why would she have willingly gone to his house?
All Lauren knew for sure was that she saw Tammy talking to Victor with her own eyes. About what, dammit? It had to be about the story on the missing girls. That was what he was consumed by. And then, whammo, guess who disappears herself: Tammy. It had to be connected.
Lauren sifted everything through her mind. Carlington probably wasn’t the stalker. But the Carlingtons could explain why Tammy had been in their house.
“Cathy,” Lauren said. “Did you see Tammy go into the house? Or just ride up?”
“I guess I just saw her ride up. She rode along up the driveway, then along the path to the side of the house. I didn’t see her after that and I left a couple minutes later anyway. That’s all I know.”
Lauren thanked Cathy, and then called Trevor and told him what she’d learned.
“Where the hell is the bike?” Trevor asked. “Can you ask your father if a dark blue Trek was found in the woods? Maybe it was found and no one knew it was Victor’s.”
“Will do. You know, Trevor, it’s weird that the Carlingtons didn’t report that a murder victim had recently been in their home. Even if they don’t read the Townsend Report, Tammy’s murder was on the local news and in the Gazette, albeit briefly. Wouldn’t they have recognized her and come forward with information?”
“Let’s find out,” he said, his voice ice-cold. She could imagine him pacing, his hands clenched at his side.
“Marcus Carlington and his wife might not have anything to do with Tammy’s murder. For all we know, they’re one of the missing girls’ aunt and uncle or something.”
Yeah, that sounded remotely plausible. Or maybe a lot of people in town wouldn’t talk to Victor because he was the TownsendReport.com. But a nice young woman with no ties to an online newsblog? Why not? Maybe Victor had sent her to go talk to the Carlingtons. And had loaned her the bike to get around town.
“I’ll set up a meeting with them,” Lauren said. “I’ll let you know where and when.”
As she hung up, Lauren realized she was dying to see Trevor as much as she wanted to sit down with the Carlingtons and find out why Tammy Gallagher had been at their mansion.
* * *
Trevor watched Mack and CJ leading the new herd they’d bought this morning out to the farther pasture, which had better grass for grazing. The thirtysomething widower had lost his ranch to hard times and had no one and nowhere to go, much like CJ. Trevor had made him foreman, and the pride in the man’s eyes was worth everything. Mack was a former marine, built tough and was fearless, and Trevor liked having him around when CJ was alone on the ranch. The man also had a lot of patience and treated CJ like a nephew instead of a greenhorn hand who needed a lot of guidance.
He waved to Mack to let him know he was taking off and drove to Lauren’s office. As always, he sat in his car and watched her for a few moments before getting out. He liked seeing her at work, furiously typing, her long curly russet-brown hair in some kind of crazy topknot, tendrils loose around her beautiful face.
Because he was staring, she looked up and spotted him and waved, and the way her face lit up at the sight of him caught him off guard. He was trying to keep his mind on the investigation but last night he’d been unable to sleep for fantasizing about Lauren Riley and what he wanted to do to every inch of her.
To clear his head, he focused on the back of the cop standing in front of a gray SUV across the street, writing a ticket for an expired meter. When the guy placed the ticket under the windshield wiper, Trevor saw it was Paretti. Figures. No wonder the rookie was too busy to work on Tammy’s murder. He was making his quota on parking tickets.
It was just the dousing of cold water Trevor needed to get the thought of a naked Lauren off his mind. He got out of his car and went into the Townsend Report office.
“Hey,” Lauren said, looking at him. “Sleep okay last night?”
Tammy’s funeral seemed like forever ago. It was hard to believe only two days had passed. “I went back to the gravesite for a while last night. Then I just sat on the porch with Charlie till it was pitch black out. I seem to be okay as long as I’m focused on finding her killer. I feel like I’m making good on my promise.”
She nodded and held his gaze for a moment, then turned her attention to a notebook on the desk. “Well, I did a little research on the Carlingtons. Sixty-six-year-old Marcus Carlington, a former mayor for one term, recently retired from the Thornwood Bank and Trust and spends most of his free time on the golf course or at the squash court. Maris Carlington is sixty-three and on the board of the animal shelter, the Thornwood Heights walk-in clinic and Thornwood Heights Historical Society. The Carlingtons are childless, petless—apparently Marcus Carlington is allergic to pet dander—and have a standing reservation at the Maretti’s Italian Ristorante every Saturday night at six thirty. They donate to charity, vote in every election and are all-around upstanding citizens with a large social circle. I can’t find any connection between either Carlington and any reported missing girls.”