The Sierra Files Box Set: Books 1-3: Plus a bonus Christmas novella!

by Christy Barritt

  His scowl deepened. “He thought we only loved him for his money, and we thought Anise only loved him for his money.”

  “A tangled web, indeed.” Families were complicated. That was for sure.

  “You can say that again. In the end, Anise won.”

  “Sounds like motive for murder to me.”

  He clenched his jaw before responding. “I have an alibi. I didn’t get into town until Saturday evening. I gave in and listened to the local news after we talked so I could hear more about her death. The report said she died Friday afternoon.”

  “You did your research since we last talked.”

  His face continued to redden. “You know who you need to look into? Her sister. Thyme.”

  “Why would I look into Thyme?”

  “Because Thyme is the one who told me about the supposed nonprofit. She sold her sister out.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Apparently, she thought she was going to get part of the cut if she helped her sister. She didn’t. Maybe she thought if her sister ended up dead, she would finally get some of the money she was due.”

  “How do you know that?”

  His scowl was replaced by a smug, satisfied grin. “Thyme told me. In fact, she was supposed to be in Aruba now, right after she blackmailed her sister for some money.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Why would Thyme tell you that?”

  Tom paused and put his hands on his hips. “She wanted more money. She’d stood by her sister during the entire trial. She thought her loyalty deserved a reward.”

  “Did Sage know that her sister had sold her out?”

  He nodded. “She found out and she was furious. Sage immediately removed her as president of her fake nonprofit. Last I heard, they hadn’t spoken in several months.”

  “But Thyme is here now to help plan the funeral. And that just so happens to be the same week you’re in town.”

  He sighed. “Okay, look. It’s like this. No, it wasn’t a coincidence that I came to Virginia Beach on vacation. I did want to talk to Sage. Thyme had tried to blackmail her, but it hadn’t worked. I was going to try my hand at it.”

  “And when she wouldn’t give you the money, you killed her?”

  He wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced around, as if to make sure no one had heard me. “No. I would never kill her. I’d just want to drag her name through the mud with the media and expose her for who she really is.”

  “What about Thyme? Would she murder for money?” I remembered the red, tear-filled eyes she’d had the first time I saw her. I’d assumed she was weeping over her sister. Had it really just been allergies?

  “It’s like this. Sage was worth more alive than she was dead. Now that she’s gone, none of us have anything. She left everything she had to Paws and Fur Balls. Her net worth wasn’t much, but Thyme didn’t get a cent.”

  “Tom, when exactly did you get into town again?”

  “Saturday evening.” He scowled. “Want me to prove it?”

  “Can you?”

  “Of course.” He pulled out his cell phone and typed something in. The next moment, he showed me an electronic ticket on the screen. “There’s my flight in. I couldn’t have killed Sage. I was in Oregon.”

  Back at my apartment, I tried to process everything.

  I rubbed my temples, wishing life as it was at this moment would simply disappear. But, since it wouldn’t, I decided to make a few phone calls and try to find someone to keep an eye on my cats for me. Everyone seemed to have an excuse.

  If I wanted to maintain any kind of self-respect, I was going to have to take my cats from Chad and bring them back to my place. I’d stay with them all day, if that’s what I had to do to protect them. The problem was, if I stayed here all day to keep an eye on them, then I couldn’t hit the streets to track down whoever was doing this.

  Therefore, I was in a quandary.

  I set aside those thoughts for a moment, and, out of curiosity, looked up Brandon Channel, the guy who’d come up with these hypoallergenic cats. I wasn’t buying the whole concept, but I needed to do some research before I formed too many judgments.

  The company was called BioCare, and it was founded by Brandon Channel. Brandon, apparently, had a degree in biology and had spent five years researching what it was about cats that triggered allergic reactions in so many people. He claimed his was the first cat that was scientifically proven as hypoallergenic.

  I scanned the rest of the information. The company claimed that a protein found in cats’ saliva and skin called Fel d1 caused allergies. Brandon bred cats with lower instances of Fel d1, and the result was a feline that didn’t trigger allergies in the same way.

  There were yearlong wait lists. Price tags in the five digits. Moving testimonials.

  However, there were no photos of Brandon, which surprised me.

  There was an endorsement by Andre and his lab.

  Now that was interesting. Andre had endorsed Brandon’s cat? Maybe Andre was Brandon. Maybe he knew how to work the system, to make the lab results look believable.

  Out of curiosity, I searched for complaints about BioCare. And, boy, did I find them. Apparently, Brandon Channel made everyone sign an ironclad contract that basically made it impossible to get any money back, even if the cat still made the new owners sneeze.

  Impulsively, I went back to the company’s website, grabbed their email address, and composed an email to them. I used a generic account I had, just so my name wouldn’t be known. I had to be subtle here, because whoever wanted information from me obviously knew my name and what I looked like.

  I wrote that I was very allergic to cats and interested in purchasing a cat from them. I’d done my research on their company and felt like we’d be a good fit. I also explained that I’d loved cats, had always dreamed about having one, and when I heard about their company, I felt the first touch of hope that I had in years. Blah, blah, blah. I made sure to include that money was no issue. I even added that I’d received a nice life insurance payment from my late husband that would pay for the cat. For the final kick, I signed my name as Ivy Livingston.

  It seemed like the name of someone who was older, someone a man like Brandon might want to take advantage of. I thought the money was important to mention and might encourage him to respond sooner.

  I hit send. I doubted I’d hear anything, especially considering the waiting list, but it was worth a shot.

  The information still fluttered around in my mind, though.

  A secret nonprofit used to funnel a dead spouse’s funds.

  A man pretending to have developed a miracle cat.

  A research lab testing allergens.

  A faceless CEO of a company raking in big money.

  What did you get when you put all of that together? Could Brandon Channel be more than one person? A team of people in cahoots with one another?

  For that matter, maybe Tom and Thyme were both working together? Maybe they were plotting to somehow get their own share of money they felt entitled to?

  Or maybe Bryan had mishandled some funds donated by Ernest, and Sage had come here to pay revenge.

  Rupert . . . his only connection was Chicago, unless there was something I was missing. Murdering one of his own employees didn’t seem like something a successful businessman would do. Unless he was certain he wouldn’t be caught. However, he’d just come to town on Sunday night. He wasn’t even here when Sage died, so I could probably rule him out.

  There was still the fact that someone—most likely Bryan—had a crush on Sage. Unrequited love had started wars. Certainly it could be cause for murder.

  What was I missing?

  I had to figure it out if I wanted to get back to my regularly scheduled life. And, boy, did I ever want to do that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  An hour later, my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number—it was an out-of-state area code—but I answered anyway.

  “This is Sierra.�
�

  “Sierra, it’s Rupert.”

  I straightened. “Hi there. How are you?”

  “It’s almost the end of the week. I wondered if you had an answer for me yet? Will you be taking over Paws and Fur Balls?”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip a moment. “I still haven’t decided, Rupert. I’m afraid this week has been a bit hectic.”

  “I see. I’m coming back into town on Monday. I was hoping to start the process by then. I really think you’re the person to do this job, Sierra.”

  “I’m so flattered. Can you give me until tomorrow?”

  “Until tomorrow. But I’m afraid that’s all the time I can give.”

  “I appreciate that, sir. Thank you.”

  I hung up, still trying to process all of my thoughts. They were just giving me a headache. I didn’t want to be in the middle of all of this. But, even more than that, I wanted my cats to be safe.

  So I resisted my urge to abandon this investigation. I resisted the impulse to pull the covers over my head and ignore this mystery. I was Sierra Nakamura. I was a fighter.

  With that thought, I hopped on my computer to do some more research and saw that I had an email from BioCare. I blinked in surprise at their quick response. By some miracle, the company had a cat that seemed to fit the description of what I wanted. In fact, if I sent them a one thousand dollar deposit, they’d hold the cat for me. They even sent a picture of a beautiful black feline with striking green eyes and told me they just happened to have a representative in town.

  What happened to the yearlong wait lists? Was that a fabrication to make the cats seem more popular and therefore more valuable?

  If these cats weren’t hypoallergenic, then where exactly was this company getting their felines from? Were they breeding cats in their home and trying to pass them off as “special”? If not in their homes, then where?

  Out of curiosity, I jumped onto a local online website that advertised pets for sale. I searched for kittens that were eight-weeks-old and black. I scrolled through tons of pictures.

  Finally, I found the exact same picture that BioCare had sent me. It had been cut and pasted from online. This woman was selling her litter of kittens for only $50 each, however. BioCare was charging $25,000.

  Outrage blazed through me.

  I jotted down the number listed on the online ad and grabbed my phone. A woman answered on the second ring.

  “I’m calling about a cat you advertised online. An all black cat with striking green eyes. Please tell me he’s still available.”

  “Wouldn’t you know a woman just bought him about ten minutes ago?”

  A woman? What? I hadn’t been expecting that. “Oh, no. I missed Black Beauty. That’s what I was going to name him. That’s too bad. I’m hoping my daughter bought him for me. Please tell me the woman who came by was skinny with dark hair. Please! I’ll be heartbroken if you don’t.”

  The woman laughed. “I don’t want to give away any surprises.”

  “Come on now. You’re ruining my birthday.”

  “Well, I can’t ruin a birthday,” she murmured. “Here’s what I can say. You could very well have a cat waiting for you.”

  I squealed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she said with a laugh. “But happy birthday.”

  I hung up and only one face stood out in my mind now. Thyme. She had to be the one behind this.

  I turned back to my computer, ready to type out a response to my email. “Is there any way I can see the cat before I send the deposit? I’ve heard about too many online scams. I get very nervous about these things.”

  I hit SEND and stared at the computer screen, wondering how the company would respond to that. When would I hear back? In time to save Freckles?

  I pushed out images of someone hurting my precious cat. How could someone be this cruel? It was almost like the person behind these threats knew exactly how to get to me.

  But Thyme wouldn’t know that. Nor would Tom. And BioCare just happened to have a representative in town. Both Thyme and Tom were in town. Maybe they were working together.

  The answers seemed so close, yet so far away.

  A reply came back immediately. “I can meet tomorrow with the cat.”

  My pulse raced. I nibbled on my lip as I typed my response. “Name the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

  Five minutes later, I had the name of a park and a time to meet.

  Finally, I was getting somewhere.

  Maybe, just maybe, I could relieve my state of anxiety. My state of feeling like a cat on a hot tin roof.

  And maybe, just maybe, I could finally get Freckles back.

  As I scooted myself away from my desk, a picture fluttered to the floor. I bent down and picked it up.

  It was a photo of Chad and me. At the beach. His arm was around my shoulders and I had a dopey grin across my face.

  Love could do that to you.

  Had I just said love?

  That’s what we had. I loved Chad. I’d known that for a long time.

  I’d been an idiot this week.

  I’d overreacted this week. And, for some deep psychological reason, I was projecting my feelings toward my father onto Chad. I was ruining one of the best relationships in my life, and I had no idea what to do about it.

  Spontaneously, I grabbed my car keys and hurried out to my car. I headed to Pastor Randy’s place, almost surprising myself that I was going there instead of to Chad’s. But I needed someone to talk to, and Pastor Randy knew Chad.

  I’d been to his place before. Gabby had brought me to a Bible study and I’d liked it okay enough. I just didn’t think the whole religion thing was for me.

  I pounded on the door to Pastor Randy’s small but neat house. A moment later, he pulled the door open. When he spotted me, he smiled. “Sierra! Come to check on your cats?”

  “Yes. Kind of.” I shifted on the porch, suddenly anxious. “I think I need to have a time of confession. You don’t have some kind of booth at your church, do you?”

  A wrinkle formed between his eyes. “Booth? No, not quite.”

  “Do you practice confession?”

  “Not as much as we should. But confessing our wrongs is healthy. I encourage people to do it more.” He nodded affably.

  I swallowed hard, nerves getting the best of me. “I need to confess something, then.”

  He opened the door farther and swept his hand toward the living room. “Why don’t you come inside? We can talk, and you can love on your cats some.”

  I nodded and stepped inside. It was kind of weird to be with Pastor Randy alone. It was kind of weird to be seeking counsel from a minister, period. Some might say that God worked everything for a higher purpose and that He’d worked it out so that the pastor would have my cats and I would be here.

  I wasn’t sure I believed any of that, though the idea did sometimes have its appeal. I’d never thought my friend Gabby—a huge skeptic—would ever change her way of thinking. But I guess a few near brushes with death had opened her eyes.

  I sat on his couch and picked up Mr. Mouser. Poor cat. He’d been through so much.

  “What’s on your mind, Sierra?” Shaggy pulled up a dining room chair and sat across from me.

  It wasn’t exactly a confessional booth, nor was I anonymous. But this would have to work. “Never once in my entire life have I questioned my priorities and my ways of doing things. Until now.”

  “What happened to cause this change?”

  I shook my head, not believing the words I wanted to say would actually come from my mouth. “Chad happened. I’ve been miserable this week because we’ve been fighting. I’ve realized how much I do care about him.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “Except, I think I may have pushed him over the edge. I was being stubborn and standing my ground about not getting the police involved in something I was investigating because it would put my cats in danger. And I do love my cats. But I
love Chad, too.” Despite how I’d royally screwed things up between us lately.

  “Have you told him that?”

  I shook my head and pulled Mr. Mouser closer to me. “Not yet. My pride keeps getting in the way. I keep hoping he’ll meet me halfway or he’ll initiate a conversation.” Was that what he’d been trying to do earlier? I couldn’t be sure. I was so blinded by my own feelings and agenda.

  Pastor Randy leaned forward, looking all . . . well, pastor like. “Maybe you’re both being stubborn. Or maybe somewhere along the line your communication has broken down.”

  “Check and check, on both counts.” I rubbed my hands against my jeans. “The problem is that I don’t know how to make things right.”

  “Maybe you should have this conversation with Chad instead of me.”

  “I know! But something’s holding me back.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I know things will have to change. On one hand, I want that change. I want compromise. On the other hand, I fear it.”

  “Love can require sacrifice—on both ends.”

  I watched him, waiting for what I was sure would come next. It didn’t. “Aren’t you going to tell me about Jesus now and how He practiced the ultimate sacrifice when He died on the cross to give us life?”

  “It sounds like you already know.”

  “Gabby’s mentioned it a few times. I’ve studied the Bible, you know. It’s a fascinating text.”

  “It can be more than that.”

  “Agnosticism is in my blood.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.” He leaned forward. “Look, there are a lot of things I value about the Christian life. For the sake of this conversation, I’ll keep it simple. Before I had Christ in my life, I lived for myself. I lived for today, for the temporary. When I became a Christian, I was able to live for a greater good. A greater good than even saving all of the animals on the earth. I found hope beyond the failures I see in this world today.”

  All of the deep thoughts in the world did nothing for me at the moment, and that realization made me uncomfortable enough that I fell back on my typical spiel. My animal talk spiel. “Do you think Jesus would be a vegan?”