The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set

by Shannon Baker

  He stood motionless between her and the car door.

  “So, we’ll see you later.” She reached behind him for the door handle.

  He placed a hand over hers. He gazed down at her, the struggle for words visible in his eyes. Finally he said, “I know you’ve had a rough year and I’ve stayed away because I wanted to give you space, or whatever.”

  Nora studied Abbey in the Jeep. He sat in back, staring out the windshield, unaware of her thudding heart and rushing blood.

  Cole let out a breath. “Here’s the deal. I understand you’re afraid of commitment because Scott had an affair and you don’t know if you can trust anyone. And you think I kidnapped you and—”

  “You did kidnap me.”

  He flared. “That was becau—never mind. What I want to say is this. I like you, Nora. I mean, probably more than like you.”

  She wanted him to stop talking but he kept going.

  “The timing might not be ideal for you but I can’t put my life on hold waiting for you any longer.”

  She turned to get in the Jeep.

  Again, he tugged her hand so she’d face him. “I’m not asking you to move away with me. I just want to know if there’s a chance for us.”

  Why did he force this on her? “I don’t know.”

  “What about tonight? I thought maybe you felt…”

  She jerked her hand away. Jobs, mothers, runaways, discovered fathers, weather manipulation. She couldn’t bring anything else into her life. “I’m going to find Petal. If you want me to confess undying love and fidelity to you, forget it. I’m not ready for this. With you or anyone.”

  Nora slid onto the icy car seat and started the engine. She refused to make eye contact with Cole, didn’t want to know if he still stood there or if he’d walked away.

  Abigail rubbed her arms. “Get that heater going.”

  Nora eyed Abigail’s coat with envy. She shivered inside her second-best coat. And Petal was loose out there somewhere with no coat at all.

  Abigail punched her phone. “Go east from the parking lot.”

  Nora started the wipers. Snow stuck in small patches to the pavement.

  “What did Cole have to say?” Abigail pointed to the left and Nora turned.

  “Private conversation.”

  “He told you he loves you, didn’t he?” She clapped her gloved hands together. “That’s romantic. He could have chosen a more intimate moment but men don’t always think things through.”

  Either Abigail was blind to body language or she hadn’t been watching the exchange. Nora maneuvered down Arapahoe Street, thankful for light traffic.

  Abigail’s giddy planning bubbled along. “You’re going to start slowly, right? Dinner, outings, that sort of thing. Will he move to Boulder? He’s not suited to that ranch anyway. Turn right at the next light.”

  The Jeep slid at the turn and Nora slowed. The wipers flapped at accumulating flakes. “Cole and I aren’t an item. Let’s drop it. Where next?”

  “You should have a smart phone like mine instead of that ancient model you have. It’s as bad as Charlie’s. Turn here.”

  Nora did. “Charlie has a cell phone?”

  Abigail stared out the window. “Of course.”

  They hit a puddle and the water splashed on the windshield. By morning it would be ice. “That doesn’t seem like something Charlie would care about.”

  Abigail spun toward her. “I suppose you two are simpatico on this subject too.”

  Let’s jump off one tangent and onto another. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The two of you. Always judging me about how I live. Abusing Mother Earth. He wouldn’t get a cell phone because he said it made him too dependent on others. He wanted to commune with nature and rely on his wits. Of course, he didn’t care that I worried day and night he’d get hurt in the wilderness, lying on the ground, dying alone. I finally bought him a phone and insisted he carry it.” Abigail pointed.

  Nora turned right onto Table Mesa Road. They were heading in a giant circle. Way to go, smart phone. “Good. Did he?”

  Abigail’s voice faltered. “He said he only did it to humor me. But he never called me and the minutes usage went up.”

  Nora squinted against the barrage of flakes in the headlights. “Who was he calling?”

  Abigail’s voice hardened. “I did a little research and found out he was calling that woman.”

  “What woman?”

  “That woman from the bar. Beth Ann Troutman.”

  Nora flopped her hand against her thigh in frustration. “Are we anywhere close to Sylvia’s house?”

  Abigail exhaled in frustration. “We’re discussing my marriage, my life. Why must it always be about you?”

  “You drag me out to save Petal and you’re upset because I won’t tell you that Charlie isn’t having an affair.”

  Abigail folded her arms in a huff. “Oh, what do you know?” She pulled one arm loose and pointed a right turn into a neighborhood with two elephant-sized sandstone slabs as neighborhood signs.

  Nora slowed and drove through the dark neighborhood, the splash of her wheels on the wet pavement accompanying the wipers. Nora had hit her limit for games.

  “He wanted to quit drinking because he thinks it will make you happy and all you can do is ride him and accuse him of things that if you really knew him, you’d know he wouldn’t do.”

  Abigail’s jaw went slack. “He’s quitting?”

  “Yes, Mother. And you haven’t noticed. That woman, Beth Ann, is his therapist.”

  Abigail sat motionless for a moment and Nora peeked at her phone. It indicated another left so she headed that way.

  Abigail’s eyes went soft as she thought. “You’re right. I haven’t seen him with an open beer for a long time.” She came back to the present. “He said he’s doing this for me?”

  Nora nodded. “Can we get back to the drama at hand?”

  Abigail kept her satisfied smile. She checked the phone. “The next house.”

  Abigail had the expression of a twitterpated teenager. “Why didn’t he tell me? I would have supported him.”

  Nora slowed.

  Abigail pointed to a house. “This is the place.” She gave it the once over. “A bit gouch.”

  Nora eased the Jeep to the curve in front of a huge house. The lawn, now smooth and white under the accumulated snow, yawned in a ridiculous expanse that would need watered and mowed—the opposite of sustainable. The foothills rose from behind the multi-gabled McMansion with its covered portico and two-story front windows that must accent a great room with the mother of all vaulted ceilings. No direct lights shone through the great room windows, only a glow cast by another room. A window inside the massive stone entryway framed a crystal chandelier.

  Abigail started punching numbers into the phone. “I have to call him. Tell him I was wrong.”

  A minuscule sliver of light escaped from the front door and sliced the front porch.

  The door was open.

  Abigail held the phone to her ear.

  Nora slid from the Jeep and started up the walk.

  39

  The snow eased off but the wind continued to howl through the trees behind the Trust farmhouse. Bright moonlight reflected off the white ground, leaving Sylvia’s footprints visible.

  Sylvia huddled at the edge of the backyard under an evergreen shrub. Her feet felt damp in her fur-topped boots. She’d broken a heel in her flight down the back porch stairs.

  She strained to see though the darkened windows inside the house. Where was Juan? He must be hunting for her. He’d be skulking around the dark building, stopping to listen.

  The rumble of boards on the creek bridge sounded like machine gun fire. She barely heard the purr of a car engine but seconds later a car door slammed. More of Eduardo’s thugs?

  Sylvia slithered from under the branches, feeling them claw at her smooth cheeks. She limped across the yard, staying close to the outer edge along the trees. With
a burst, she scurried toward the farmhouse and hugged the wall, where no one inside could see her from a window.

  She peeked around the edge of the house to the parking lot. The Town Car still sat in the lot with a smattering of snow on the roof. Daniel’s Prius was parked next to it. Sylvia’s Ferrari was hidden on the far side of the Town Car. She couldn’t get to it without running in full sight.

  Pounding and what sounded like a scuffle erupted on the front porch out of Sylvia’s view. Male voices rose in anger. Juan slid out from the front of the house on the slick grass as if he’d been pushed. He fell to his knees.

  Daniel strode after him. He fired off a rapid string of Spanish and advanced on Juan.

  Juan scrambled to his feet and hurried to his Town Car. He turned and shouted at Daniel, throwing up his hands. He yanked open the door of his car and jumped inside. In a matter of seconds he gunned the engine and spun out of the parking lot. He fishtailed and banged a back fender on the bridge before he accelerated down the highway.

  Sylvia ran from hiding. “Daniel!”

  He watched her.

  When she grew close enough, she launched herself into his arms. “You’ve saved me. I knew you’d come.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs and across the front porch. He shoved her inside and slammed the door. “Tell me now, Sylvia. What are you doing? Why did my father send Juan?”

  Why was he being so rough? She settled herself and brushed her fingers through her hair. She sidled to him and ran her hand on his chest under the leather of his jacket. “Don’t be grouchy. You’re going to love me when I tell you.”

  He pushed her hand away. “Tell me.”

  She rose on her toes and slipped her tongue around his cold lips. “I did it for you.”

  “For god’s sake, Sylvia. Get away from me.”

  Why was he acting like this? “I set it in motion, Daniel. Like you wanted me to. Like Eduardo demanded.”

  His face froze. “What did you do?”

  She smiled and reached for his hand. “Come here, I’ll show you.”

  40

  This is not a good idea.

  In fact, it could be one of her worst. That didn’t stop Nora from climbing the stone steps on the front porch and approaching the open door. Wind whipped her hair and stung her ears and her hiking boots left waffles in the snow on the walk.

  Abbey stayed close on her heels. She should probably have left him in the car with Abigail but she didn’t mind the four-legged dose of courage at her side.

  Nora rang the doorbell. She didn’t expect anyone to answer and they didn’t.

  She pushed the door open and stood outside. “Hello!”

  Silence.

  She should call the cops. Tell them Petal had gone missing. And that Sylvia was involved in a mysterious and deadly venture involving Tesla towers and dead birds, and the powerful people Sylvia worked for would kill Petal if the police didn’t intervene.

  They’d have no trouble believing that.

  Abbey trotted in front of her, leaving muddy paw prints on the marble foyer.

  A wide staircase to the right of the entryway swept to the second floor. The curved wood railing shone with polish in the light from the foyer. Splashes of bright oranges, blues, and reds blazed from abstract oil paintings on the wall.

  Abbey’s claws clicked on the marble and his breath sounded like an elephant snuffle as he sniffed the floor.

  “Hello?” she said again. Silence in a house this size was a big silence.

  Directly in front of them, the marble of the foyer gave way to a white-carpeted sitting room. A baby grand piano left room for two white upholstered chairs. The night darkened on the other side of a floor-to-ceiling window.

  Nora chose to head left down a short hallway. It opened onto the great room facing away from the street.

  She stepped around a stone pillar and Nora nearly gasped at the expanse and opulence. Down three steps that ran the length of the room and across the wide space covered with the impossibly thick white carpet, floor--o cathedral ceiling windows faced the Flatirons. In the daytime, the view would be breathtaking. Tonight, with snow swirling outside, was merely spectacular. A huge stone fireplace occupied one whole wall and several white couches and chairs made up a couple of conversation areas. It resembled the lobby of a posh hotel more than a real person’s living room.

  How often did Sylvia entertain? Nora couldn’t imagine one person wanting to spend time with Sylvia, let alone a team large enough to make this room practical.

  “She’s not much for color.”

  Nora gasped and whirled around at the sound.

  Snap. The room burst into light and Abigail adjusted the dimmer from spotlight to natural. She stepped from behind a pillar and surveyed the room from the top stair, hands on her hips.

  “My god, Mother, you scared me. I thought you were in the Jeep talking to Charlie.”

  Abigail waved her hand. “A phone only works when you turn it on. I can’t make him understand that. I left some voicemails but I don’t think he knows how to retrieve them.”

  Nora gazed out the tall windows at the swirling snow. Petal might be out there.

  “Did you see that chandelier in the entryway?” Abigail asked, disgust ringing her words.

  The fireplace gaped at Nora as if waiting for a sacrifice. “I didn’t pay any attention.”

  Abigail loved to tour houses. She wasn’t shy about giving her decorating opinions. “It’s ostentatious. The entryway calls for something smaller and more tasteful. This place reeks of new money.”

  As if Abigail came from a long line of aristocrats. She’d grown up in Nebraska and only later, married money. Lots of it. Mostly gone now.

  Nora started for the stairs. “We shouldn’t be here. I think it’s breaking and entering.”

  Abigail scrutinized the room. “Nonsense. The door was wide open. As friends we’re obligated to check things out and make sure Sylvia is all right.”

  “Friends?”

  “Small detail,” Abigail said and descended the stairs. “The carpet is a nice weave but the white is much too risky if you want to actually live in your home.”

  “This is a bad idea,” Nora said to Abbey.

  “It’s too stark with all this white. Although I do appreciate the natural elements of the stone. And, oh Nora, look at those beams. Those are very nice. I can’t identify the wood. Not pine.”

  Who cared? Nora gave up the sane notion of high-tailing it out of there and advanced on a bookshelf inset into the wall opposite the fireplace. Framed photos sat amid glass sculptures. Compared to the sharp angles and abstract contemporary art on the walls, the frames twisted in ornate gold gilt.

  Abigail stood in front of one of the furniture groupings assessing the accent pillows. Abbey plopped down and rested his head on his paws.

  The photos mostly showed professional studio shots of Sylvia. From the headshots at various angles and the posed casuals, it seemed Sylvia loved playing fashion model. There were a few photos not done with the intent of making Sylvia gorgeous.

  Abigail abruptly walked from the furniture to the fireplace. “This room is a mosh-posh of mixed styles. Most unsettling.”

  “Shhhh.” Nora cocked her head. “Do you hear anything?”

  Abigail paused a moment. “No. You’re letting your imagine loose again.”

  Nora turned back to the photos and Abigail walked over to peer over her shoulder.

  Abigail pointed to a picture. “What about this?” Sylvia stood next to a dark-haired, older and more-worn version of herself. An awkward girl of about thirteen stood in front of the two women, shooting a cheesy grin at the camera. From the style of clothes, the picture must have been taken twenty years ago.

  Nora studied the picture. “Must be family. At least it proves she didn’t rise from a lagoon on a dark, stormy night.”

  Abigail picked it up and stared at it. “That little girl is Petal.”

  Nora focused on another
interesting shot. “Right. Now who’s imagination is running wild?”

  Abigail thrust the frame under Nora’s nose. “Look at it.”

  Nora hadn’t seen Petal’s impish side as much as Abigail had, but the little face did bear a resemblance to Petal in her rare happy moments. “I can see how you’d think that. But it’s a coincidence.”

  Abigail pursed her lips and set the photo on the shelf.

  Nora picked up the frame she’d been studying. “Whoa.” She handed Abigail the snapshot of Sylvia arm in arm, gazing adoringly at someone.

  Abigail gasped. “It’s Daniel!”

  Nora pointed at the picture. “See in the background? They’re standing in front of World Petro.”

  Abigail shrugged and handed it back. “She’s having an affair with that Latin lover. I knew there was something fishy about him.”

  “World Petro is his father’s company.” Nora stared at the picture. “Supposedly, Daniel is trying to stop them and others from drilling for oil in the Amazon basin.”

  Abigail trod across the room and up the steps. “It’s shocking that a woman Sylvia’s age would cavort with someone like Daniel but it happens.”

  “Cavort?” Nora set the picture down and followed Abigail.

  They continued down the hall toward what appeared to be the kitchen. “You know what I mean,” Abigail said.

  Nora noticed the muddy paw prints Abbey left on the white carpet. Sylvia wasn’t going to be pleased. “If Daniel and Sylvia are having an affair, why are they keeping it a secret?”

  Abigail felt around on the wall of the dark kitchen. “It isn’t good policy for a board member to be sleeping with the hired help.”

  If the dark, silent house weren’t so creepy, and if they weren’t breaking the law, and if she didn’t think that Petal might be in some kind of danger, she might find the idea of Sylvia being called hired help amusing.

  Abigail slapped on the light to reveal a kitchen fit for the Iron Chef himself. Copper cookware hung from a rack above a center island covered with gleaming granite big enough to dance a tango on. The cook top had more burners than the Octomom had babies. Two ovens, two refrigerators, miles of counter space and gadgets Nora could only guess at. If anything had been used, Nora couldn’t tell.