They faced a glass wall at the far side, which provided a soothing vista of the lake. The effect was simple but, after the confines of the trailer, Wick felt as if he had just moved into the Ritz.
To the left of the high-ceilinged space, a staircase led to the second floor. While Linda went upstairs to change, he prowled into the kitchen.
The gleaming fixtures and orderly cabinets reminded him of the conventional life he had once taken for granted. He was tired of running. He wanted to go home. But this place would have to do for now.
From a bag, Wick took the notes he had made over the past few months. He’d kept them with him to review when he was alone. Thank goodness they hadn’t been at Sarah’s place or they, too, would have disappeared.
He fixed a cup of iced tea and sat at the table to read over what he’d written. A few minutes later, Linda joined him.
She had shed the gray dress for a loose flowered top and jeans. Her straight hair was pulled back with two barrettes, making her look more eighteen than twentyeight.
In the warm light through an oval window, Linda glowed like a madonna from a Renaissance painting. It took Wick’s breath away to realize that inside her curving abdomen lay their baby.
“Did you have any amazing insights while I was gone?” She slid onto one of the chairs.
He grimaced. “Not really. Whoever tried to kill me might have been Sarah’s original client, but that doesn’t make sense, since I was helping him. It might have been Granville Lyme, if he discovered I was snooping. Or it could have been one of the émigrés whose files I’d taken.”
Linda listened intently as he reviewed the short list of clients who had arrived in the past two years. There were six names, including two married couples.
Pierre and Lynette D’Amboise were importers who had lived in a small North African country. “Sarah discovered that they’d been accused of violating laws against removing artifacts,” he said.
“So they have good reason to want secrecy,” Linda said.
“Except that the U.S. has no extradition treaty with their homeland,” Wick explained.
The second couple, Mae and Lin Wang, had owned a clothing factory in Hong Kong. “I learned via the Internet that they were suspected of manufacturing knockoffs of designer fashions,” Wick said. “But nothing was ever proved. They left Hong Kong because it was being returned to Chinese rule.”
The fifth person on the list, Reina Marinovskya, was a retired soprano who had left Russia with master tapes of her operas, recorded under the old Soviet regime. She’d reaped a tidy sum by having them digitally remastered and issued on compact disc.
“No one seems to know whether she actually owns the rights to those recordings,” Wick said. “There was a threat of a lawsuit by one of the conductors, but nothing came of it.”
The final name was someone that both Wick and Linda knew, Janet’s great-uncle Yuri Capek, who came from Litvonia in Eastern Europe.
After the Soviet Union broke up, a dictator had seized power in Litvonia. Two years ago, in the turmoil after the dictator’s overthrow, Yuri, a customs inspector, had left to join his nephew’s family and the sizable Litvonian émigré community in Inland.
“No rumors of wrongdoing?” Linda asked.
“Not that we could find, but he did purchase a large estate and install a considerable security system. That could suggest he embezzled money, but it doesn’t prove it.”
“He’s pretty fragile, physically. Janet worries about him living alone.” Linda frowned. “It’s quite a coincidence that all these people just happened to end up with the same real-estate company. Especially one that doesn’t have any objection to accepting money from untraceable sources.”
“On the other hand,” Wick said, “none of these people are being sought by police agencies. Sarah checked that out.”
“If you can believe her.”
“I don’t see that we have much choice. Besides, I think she was telling the truth about most things.”
“Okay, let’s go on that assumption.” Linda clicked her tongue impatiently. “If the Lyme Company isn’t doing anything wrong, Granville would have no motive to try to kill you.”
“Unless he just doesn’t like being betrayed,” Wick said.
“But surely he could have tracked Sarah down sometime in the past four months if he wanted to get the files back. Why didn’t he find her until now?”
The puzzle pieces kept forming partial patterns but never a complete picture. “Let’s focus on whoever was chasing us today,” he said. “I don’t think Granville would do it himself. Neither would Yuri, or, most likely, any of the others on the list. They’d have hired somebody.”
“Okay,” she said. “Where does that leave us?”
His brain was chugging into high gear. “Whoever it was, he’s probably reporting back to the person who hired him, right now.”
Linda sighed. “We can hardly tap everybody’s phones.”
“But someone could,” Wick said. “We don’t know what is involved here, maybe even some foreign agents. I don’t think they’d use the phone.”
“You think they’ll be meeting in person?” Linda said.
It was a thin possibility, but all they had to go on. “Our best suspect is Granville Lyme, so let’s start with him. Doesn’t he knock off early on Friday afternoons?”
“He likes to play golf,” Linda said. “At the Inland Center.”
“I’d better take your dad’s motorbike,” Wick said. “The killer knows my car.”
She regarded him uneasily. “Oh, Wick, it’s so dangerous. You don’t know who he is, but he knows you. If you get caught.”
“Let’s not dwell on what-ifs. Got a key?” he said.
She fetched some from a drawer. “There’s one for the front, and another to the bike.”
“It’s hard to picture your dad as a biker,” Wick admitted. An insurance salesman, John Ryan wore a tie even on the hottest days.
“Mom hates it, but I think it’s part of his second childhood. Anyway, I just remembered, there’s a helmet and goggles. That ought to help disguise you.”
Linda stretched sleepily. With a flash of guilt, Wick reflected that if he hadn’t abducted her, she would now be napping safely at home.
But not his home. Avery’s. Or rather, this very vacation cabin.
They had been planning to come here after the wedding, Wick reminded himself. The irony of the situation took the sting from his thoughts.
“If Granville’s not at the golf course, I’ll cruise by his house and see if I can sneak a look through the fence,” he said.
“Be careful.” Linda gave him a hug, but stepped away before it could develop into anything more intimate.
SHE AWOKE on the couch from a deep sleep. It seemed as if half a day had passed, but when she checked her watch, it had only been an hour.
Still, Wick could have returned by now if he’d located Granville. What if he’d run into the killer? Or been spotted by the police?
As he’d said, it was useless to dwell on what-ifs. Besides, her stomach felt like a hollow pit. Linda went into the kitchen and fixed herself a peanut butter sandwich.
It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d been calmly preparing for a wedding. Even after their close encounter at the mall, she kept feeling as if this were all make-believe.
She wished she could wash the sandwich down with a glass of milk, but she hadn’t prestocked dairy products because she wanted them fresh. Now she felt a strong craving for milk and cheese. Besides, she was tired of being confined indoors.
Peering through the oval window over the sink, Linda surveyed the street. There were no vehicles in sight, and the only people around were a couple of teenagers walking arm in arm.
It was two blocks to the grocery store. On a weekday, the commercial strip would be nearly deserted except for a few people dropping by the senior center. There seemed no reason to keep herself locked indoors.
The Ryans alw
ays tucked a few twenty-dollar bills in a desk in case they ran short of cash, and she pocketed one, vowing to repay her parents later. Next, in the spare bedroom, she rummaged through the bureau drawers, examining odds and ends left by various guests as she sought a disguise.
Linda smiled as she noticed an open box of handmade, crystalline fish lures that her friend Janet had declared too beautiful to use. The two of them had weekended here often before Linda’s marriage.
Replacing them, she opened the bottom drawer and retrieved a worn baseball cap and bent sunglasses. It was no wonder someone hadn’t bothered to reclaim these, she mused as she put them on. Regarding herself in the mirror, she decided they made an adequate, if slightly disreputable, cover.
After leaving a note for Wick and locking the house, Linda set out. The cloud cover had burned off and the day was warming, but being outside filled her with relief.
She had never so appreciated the freedom to come and go as she pleased. As she strode along alternating stretches of sidewalk and bare dirt, she felt anger rise at whoever had forced Wick and her into hiding.
It seemed bizarre that two ordinary people could find themselves entangled in such a web. If only Wick hadn’t confided in Sarah in the first place, none of this would have happened.
But the matter wasn’t that simple. If Granville Lyme were involved in wrongdoing, then she and Wick had been a part of it. Continuing to work there after they suspected what was going on would make them guilty, too—certainly in the moral sense, and possibly in the eyes of the law, as well.
As she skirted a deep crack in the sidewalk, Linda wondered if Avery knew what was going on. Had he been trying to protect her from his own father? Or was it possible that Avery had set up Wick’s murder in order to marry her?
But the man she had known in high school was gentle and humorous. She couldn’t believe him capable of such evil.
At the edge of the shopping center, she stopped to take stock of the parking lot. A karate school had opened at the site of a former knit shop, and two young boys were emerging from it wjth their mother. Other than that, she saw only an older woman getting out of a BMW near the senior center.
Linda pulled the cap visor lower on her forehead and strolled along the walkway. The biggest problem ahead, she reflected, would be deciding how much milk and cheese she could carry home without straining.
She was almost past the senior center when the older woman finished locking her car and swung around, the flounces on her peasant blouse ruffling as she moved. They were only a few feet apart.
In the thud of a heartbeat, Linda realized that she knew this woman. It was Janet’s neighbor, Mrs. Barash, the one who’d witnessed the kidnapping.
She didn’t expect to be recognized, not in sunglasses and a hat, but her rounded figure must have drawn the woman’s attention. Linda hurried forward, anxious to avoid further inspection.
“Good Lord! This is not possible!” The accented voice stopped her cold. “I could swear…Linda, can that be you?”
Fleeing would only force the woman to report the sighting to police. Harvey would note the vicinity of the cabin, and half the force would be there by the time Wick returned.
From the jumble of Linda’s thoughts emerged one conclusion: there was no choice but to confide in Mrs. Barash and hope she would agree to help.
Chapter Six
With a sigh, Linda turned. “Yes, it’s me. Could we talk privately, please?”
“Of course.” Thank goodness the woman didn’t insist on calling someone. “I was on my way to an aerobics class. I have a heart condition, so I need the exercise. Perhaps we could walk together?”
Two blocks hadn’t tired Linda now that she was wearing comfortable shoes, so she agreed. They strolled out of the center and toward the pier.
As they walked, Linda explained in a low voice what had happened. She saw no point in holding back. Mrs. Barash, or Mina as she insisted on being called, could hardly be expected to keep a secret unless she understood why it was necessary.
Besides, Linda knew she and Wick needed someone who could move about openly. Not that an elderly lady could be expected to act like a secret agent, but Mina might be willing to help with such mundane matters as shopping. Also, she had a car the murderer wouldn’t recognize.
On the far side of the shopping center, they reached the pier. Deserted in the midday sun, it offered a canopied bench where Linda and Mina made themselves comfortable.
Bathed in filtered light, the older woman listened intently to the rest of the story. She had a square jaw and wide cheekbones, with expressive green eyes from which fanned deep wrinkles.
“So. This is exciting!” she said when Linda finished.
“Exciting?”
“Like an opera,” she said. “Or a movie. We must outfox the fox! Of course I will help you. Such an opportunity as this, I did not expect.”
Although she appreciated the woman’s eagerness to help, Linda wasn’t sure she wanted an accomplice who saw this deadly business as a game. “It isn’t something to take lightly.”
“Of course not,” Mina agreed. “I do not mean that. But I have sympathy for your situation. In Litvonia, it was often not possible to trust the police. Especially not if the bad guy has influence. Or if there was money that the police could steal.”
“I hardly think Captain Merkel is corrupt.” Linda gazed across the water at the sun-swept far shore, where children played on a manmade beach at the Inland Shore Club. “Do you?”
The older woman shrugged, a world-weary gesture that encompassed a lifetime of dealing with unpleasant realities. “Perhaps nothing is as it seems.”
It was hard to imagine what life had been like in Eastern Europe. Janet’s great-uncle Yuri did not like to talk about it; he obviously had painful memories.
Linda had read a newspaper interview once with several leaders of the large local Litvonian community. They had spoken of police brutality, people vanishing in the night, fear of trusting even one’s closest friends. No wonder so many of them had emigrated, even after democracy came.
“So tell me, who do you suspect?” Mina rubbed her hands together in excitement.
“The obvious person would be Granville Lyme,” Linda said. “You know who he is?”
“Your fiancé’s father, no?” Mina smiled. “Almost your father-in-law. But surely if he is involved in something, you would have found it in those files your husband took.”
Linda shook her head. “Wick just took files about clients, not the business itself. Besides, Granville wouldn’t put his confidential data where other people could see it. He’d either encode it or keep it at home in his safe.”
“Interesting.” Mina tapped her fingers against her leg. “So there might be secret files!”
“Mrs. Barash, I know this sounds like a movie to you, but it isn’t.”
The woman put a finger to her lips in conspiratorial fashion. “Mum’s the word, isn’t that what they say? But Captain Merkel comes often to visit Janet. I can pretend I am worried since the kidnapping, and spend some time with her. That way, I will find out what the police are doing.”
Linda wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but she didn’t see that she had much choice. She and Wick desperately needed an inside contact, and Mrs. Barash was in a position to fill the role. Like it or not, she was going to have to trust this woman not to get carried away.
“Please don’t ask too much,” she said.
“Now, I will start by doing your shopping while you wait in my car. Your picture was on television, and someone in the store might recognize you.” Mina took Linda’s arm as they walked back. “Then I will drive you home. It is best for you to stay hidden.”
She was right, Linda knew. One venture into public, and she’d already been spotted. It was pure good fortune that Janet’s neighbor was willing to serve as an ally.
A short while later, they pulled up in front of the cabin with a load of groceries. There was no sign of Wick.
As Linda collected the sacks of food, the older woman gave her a smile of childlike delight. “I am so glad we met. Now I can be like that lady on Murder She Wrote!”
“You’re amazing,” Linda said, and hoped Mina’s eagerness wasn’t going to create more problems than it solved.
WICK PULLED INTO the golf-center parking lot and made a quick circuit. He had no trouble spotting Granville’s late-model Cadillac with personalized plates. So the Lyme Company’s owner was here, just as Linda had surmised.
Next to it sat Avery’s red sports car. Wick stared at it with an aching mix of emotions.
Since learning about the planned wedding, he had regarded his former friend as an enemy, possibly even as his would-be murderer. Yet beneath the anger there lingered an undercurrent of affection for the mellow, upbeat young man who had buoyed Wick’s spirits time and again during college.
He couldn’t believe Avery’s motives in offering him the job at the Lyme Company were anything but good. And Linda, who had known him since high school, was convinced Avery had only meant to protect her and the baby when he proposed marriage.
Perhaps the Lymes were simply playing a game of golf today, just the two of them. He certainly didn’t see a Chevy like the one that had pursued Wick and Linda.
Of course, a professional killer would once again have dumped the car and picked up another one, Wick reflected as he parked the motorbike on the far side of the lot. Still, if the hunter had been Avery, he wouldn’t need to meet his own father in a public place to fill him in on the morning’s events.
The only way to determine whether they’d met a third person was to stick around and watch. Although he wasn’t sure the helmet and goggles could disguise him from two people who knew him so well, Wick decided to give it a try.
From the walkway, he could view only a small part of the course, most of which was discreetly tucked between luxury condominiums. He decided his best bet was to hang out at the pro shop. From its location on a rise near the cart-return station, he should be able to see the golfers as they finished their game.
And The Bride Vanishes Page 7